Page 67 of Puck Prince

“Drama, like, you dated a coworker? Like, you’ve done this before?”

I nearly guffaw at that. “Trust me, I have never done anything likethisbefore.”

But Owen is unconvinced. “Apparently, you have, because he brought it up. And the accusation was enough to make you sign the papers and run like your ass was on fire.”

“I don’t think my dating history has anything to do with you and me,” I spit the words like acid.

Owen recoils a little, and I feel kind of bad. He’s actually being decent right now. Despite the entire situation we are in, he’s not being an ass at all.

I’m picking up the slack for the both of us.

“But maybe…” I sigh. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get to know each other a little better.”

“Oh, it’ll hurt. But most things with you do.” There’s that missing snark. “It’ll make the fundraiser ball less awkward, though.”

“I never actually said yes to going with you.”

He also never actually asked.

“No, you just signed a contract.”

“Details, shmetails.” I wave a hand and it makes him laugh. I like that more than I probably should.

“Alright. Be a brat about it.” Owen takes my hand formally. “Callie Coleman, will you go to the ball with me?”

I scrunch up my face, pulling my hand back and swatting at him. “Ew. Not when you ask it like that. Try again. A little less Prince Charming this time.”

“Alright.” He shakes out his shoulders and goes in for round two. “Hey babe, wanna go to that mandatory charity thing Coach is making all of us do? I’ll buy you a drink and pretend to like you.”

This time, I laugh. “Do you have any concept of middle ground?”

“None whatsoever. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy.”

I have to stop myself from pressing a hand to my womb.Yeah,I think miserably.That’s exactly the problem.

“We’ll circle back to it, then. You’re right, though?—”

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth,” he mutters.

I ignore him. “You’re right in the sense that this will be easier if we’re not making everything up on the fly. If we know actual stuff about each other, it’ll be easier to lie.”

“Alright, what do you wanna know?” He reclines and spreads his arms along the back of the sofa. “I’m an open book.”

I tap my finger to my lips in thought. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

Owen nearly spits out his beer. “Really? What is this, kindergarten show and tell?”

“What? Dessert is great!”

“But it’s irrelevant.”

Spoken like someone with six-percent body fat.

“Fine.” I narrow my eyes. “If you didn’t make it as a hockey player, what would you have done?”

“I’d work in social services.”

I do a double-take. “Really?”

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