Page 153 of A Little Tempting

Flexing my fingers, I look down at his massive sausage fingers strangling my arm and smile. “You should squeeze tighter.”

Frustrated, he shoves me against the cinderblock wall behind me, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Don’t tempt me.”

My gaze flicks to his. “Keep on squeezing, Mr. Reeves. I want to make sure you leave a mark, so I have evidence of what a dipshit you really are.”

His nostrils flare, but he lets me go. “This isn’t over.”

“I think we both know it is, but if you’re still on the fence, I suggest Googling my dad, Colt Thorne. You know, the guy you called out of the blue and lied to, warning him about his daughter’s boyfriend without taking into account how he might actually respect his kid enough to actually talk to her instead of believing a random man’s accusation. Or better yet? Maybe skip my dad and go straight to my Uncle Henry. HenryBuchanan,” I punctuate. “Billionaire businessman with political connections all across the world and a penchant for putting pathetic men like you in their place.” With a syrupy, sweet smile, I step around him and grab the door handle. “Have a good evening, Mr. Reeves.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” he calls.

Ignoring him, I slip out of the exit without a backward glance and head back to my seat.

Come at me again, Officer Reeves.

I dare you.

40

DYLAN

The rest of the game passes by in a blur. I don’t even watch the plays. I’m too busy scanning the rink for a familiar officer with stalking tendencies. I want to simultaneously throat punch him and avoid him like a bad flu. By the time the final buzzer sounds, ending the third period and the game, Finley loops her arm through mine. We follow Mav and Ophelia to the door leading to the locker room, where the team exits once they shower.

I’m not sure how long Finley’s been talking, but I’m too lost in my head to really listen, let alone respond. Staring blankly into the distance, I chew on the edge of my thumb, debating whether or not I should tell Oliver about what happened in the bathroom. I mean, I know I should, but the idea of him flying off the handle after the fact seems…not great, especially when his father’s entire motive when he approached me was to get under his son’s skin. Playing into it feels wrong. But keeping my interaction with his dad feels evenmorewrong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Finley snaps her fingers an inch from my nose, and I jerk back.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are. You. Okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes thin, and she opens her mouth to continue pushing, but the heavy metal doors open at the same moment, the groan from the hinges cutting her off.

With his hair still damp from his shower and a duffle bag full of hockey gear hanging from his shoulder, Ollie appears. Sporting the same smirk I’ve most definitely fallen for—okay, Fin and Lia might’ve been onto something when they mentioned the L-word earlier—my knees go weak in an instant when his eyes land on me.

“You were fast,” Finley notes as she pushes herself away from the cinderblock wall she was leaning on.

“Excited,” Reeves clarifies. He gives her a wink as the rest of the guys file out behind him.

“Hey, good game,” Mav congratulates him.

“Thanks, man.” Reeves returns. “ Hey, Lia.”

“Hey, Reeves,” she replies. “Mav’s right. You killed it on the ice today. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to impress someone.”

“You know, you’re not wrong,” he notes, turning to me with a shameless grin. “Hey, Pickles.”

“Hi.”

As he takes in my fake smile, it causes his lips to turn down. “What’s wrong?”

“I asked her the same thing,” Finley interjects. She folds her arms and gives me a stern look mirroring my mom’s anytime I’m in the doghouse as we all start walking toward the exit.

“Seriously, nothing’s wrong,” I tell her—tell everyone, thanks to the curious stares of my brother, Ev, Mav, Ophelia, and Finley. Desperate to change the subject, I add, “Well, except for Griffin’s lack of scoring.”

“Hey!” My brother shoves me playfully, pretending to be offended, until Everett jumps in and gives him shit while the chatter grows around us. When Mav pushes open the door to the parking lot, a gust of cold wind hits my cheeks, so I tug my jacket a little tighter around me, preparing for the short trek to the cars while avoiding a certain someone’s knowing stare.

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