Page 20 of The Kiss Class

She staggers back slightly. “My Knight in an Ugly Christmas Sweater. Guess Chard won’t bother me again. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,milady,” I say gallantly.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a cute smile. As the moment lengthens, her teeth sink into her lip. I’m about to say something flirty when the situation at hand rapidly comes into focus. What was going through my mind? The guy was harassing her, but it’s like I’m cursed. I can’t step out of my house without having some kind of interaction with a woman, and more than likely, the kiss was captured on camera.

Attempting to be a gentleman rather than be associated with the nickname the Frenchman, I say, “I’d been listening to him hassle women all night. When I saw him approach you, It looked like unwanted attention.” But was mine?

She presses her hand to her lips and then says, “I should go.”

A deep male voice at my back echoes nearly the same words. “We all should.”

I turn around to find Micah looking unusually stony. The guy is tough but typically pretty cheerful—a ray of sunshine like his last name.

When I turn back to the stranger I just kissed, she disappears into the crowd. I only catch the back of the Knights jersey with the number seventy-four emblazoned across the back.

And my name. My girlfriend.

A sense of warm possession rushes through me when I spot Richard watching her leave as well.

Mine.

Suddenly, the guys on my team flank me as if escorting me away for disorderly conduct. Their silence is grim, but I’m not sure what I did other than rescue the woman from Chard.

They can’t be too mad or surprised. They don’t know what went on in Badaszek’s office earlier. And they’re well aware that flirting and kissing is kind of my thing. If they were so concerned, we shouldn’t have gone to the highest-profile sports establishment in Cobbiton.

I’ll admit, given the Christmas decorations and this sweater, I fitted in rather well.

When we get away from the crowd, tension rolls off my teammates in waves.

“Dude,” Hayden says, voice a growl.

Micah’s lips pucker like he’s holding back saying more.

Ted shakes his head slowly.

Redd runs his hand down his face.

Liam’s nostrils flare.

Of course, Beau remains silent, stoic as always.

“Sorry, not sorry.” I start to explain what happened.

“It’s not that,” Ted says.

“What did I miss this time?” I ask.

When they don’t answer, I turn to our goalie, hoping for an assist, even though that’s not typically his move. “What’s going on?”

Micah mutters, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

And that’s it. They disperse, leaving me standing on the sidewalk in an ugly Christmas sweater in the cold and completely clueless.

Most of the guys live in Cobbiton, but my place is in Omaha proper. Even though it’s a Thursday night, it feels too early to go home, but I head back to my condo anyway, racking my brain, wondering why the guys got so serious.

Is it another bet?

Did I do something wrong?

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