Page 22 of Puck & Make Up

He lets his hand drop, steps back, and stomach twisting, I turn to face him.

“I’m sor—” But my words cut off because the moment I see his face, I realize I’ve been had.

Jesus, he’s laying it on thick.

“Just go,” I mutter.

His beautiful brown eyes are dancing—clearly recognizing that I’ve picked up on his shenanigans. He holds up a bag. “But if you kick me out, I’ll keep these for myself.”

My stomach rumbles.

That zip top bag is full of his cookies.

The best fucking chocolate chip cookies on the planet.

“Seriously?” I glare. “You’re going to tease me like that?”

A wicked smile. “Oh no, sugar. I never tease.”

I shiver, his words stroking like fingers between my legs. “Fox,” I warn.

His smile just widens, and he shakes the bag. “So, you going to tell me why you don’t like me?”

“That’s easy,” I grumble, reaching for the bag, which, annoyingly, he sweeps out of reach, “because you won’t share the cookies.”

“Pft.That’s not the only reason.”

Ugh.

I clamp my lips together, reach for the bag again.

He chuckles. “Thought so. Well then”—a nod to the door—“I’ll just take my treats and leave.”

“Fine.” Scowling, I start to step back.

He reaches for the handle, stops. “Unless….”

Right. I’m this close to pushing a certain hockey player over the second story railing. “Just go, Fox.”

“Unless…you want tosharethe cookies,” he offers.

My temple throbs. “And what doyouget in exchange in this arrangement?”

There’s a long pause, the tension in the room seeming to ratchet up before he grins again. “Got any beer?”

Andthat’show—somehow—I end up spending the night with the man I hate the most.

Or maybe that’s how—somehow—I finally start coming back to myself.

Seven

Fox

“You know,” she says, the words slightly slurred, several hours later, “I don’t hate you.”

We’re on the second bad movie—because the crazy woman apparently likes to watch movies with plots that make no fucking sense.

Case in point?

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