Page 4 of The Enemy Face Off

"Yes, I am." I zip my hoodie up a little. "Don't worry. I won't sue you."

A line forms between his eyebrows. "Sue me? For what?"

"For barreling into me."

"We rounded the corner at the exact same moment. I don't think anyone's at fault here."

I fold my arms across my chest. "Of course you'd say that."

"What's that supposed to mea—you know what, nevermind. You're not injured. That's what matters."

I huff out a noise that's somewhere between annoyed and hopefully a tiny bit sexy.

Wait. What?

I amnottrying to sound sexy in front of Milo…am I?

Gosh, maybe I have a concussion.

"Look," he says. "No one was hurt. Can we try and be positive here?"

"Okay, fine. I'm positive this is all your fault."

Ah, Snarky Beth has fully booted up and is back online. Good. I'm going to need her. First order of business? Eliminate that peskywanting to sound sexyvirus that has infiltrated my system.

The muscle in Milo's jaw twitches, and his eyes darken. His massive shoulders heave up and down with every breath he takes, staring at me like…like I don't know what.

He's the goalie for the LA Swifts, the same team Fraser and Culver play for. Fraser and Culver are your typical, all-around nice guys.

But Milo?

He's known as the NHL's resident grumpy goalie. Not to mention he has a reputation for being a bit of a player.

I'm not into hockey—or sports in general—so I wouldn't know if that reputation is accurate. But a little harmless online sleuthing confirmed he's got a thing for pretty girls who seem clueless and probably hang on his every word, thinking he's the greatest guy ever.

I've only met him once. He showed up at Hannah's karaoke night a few weeks ago and, as I suspected, he's cocky. Just not exactly in the way I thought he'd be.

He's got swagger, sure, but it came across more as quiet arrogance rather than some over-the-top alpha display. He didn't say much, mostly sticking with Fraser and Culver, and he never sang. He seemed content to stay in the background rather than be the center of attention.

And if I'm not mistaken, his gaze drifted to me a few times during the evening. I made sure to look away quickly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. If he thinks he can just blink at a woman and she'll fall under his spell, I wanted to be the one to prove him wrong.

So what if his resting grump face was kinda cute—man bun aside, of course.

Or if I found myself stealing glances at him, too, for some weird reason.

Or if I may have wondered a few times since that night whether he's genuinely grouchy or simply the quiet type who gets labeled that way.

Not that any of it matters.

I'm sure Milo hasn't thought about me since karaoke. He can have any girl he wants—why would he be interested in someone like me?

"I don't have time for this," I say, pushing past him. "I have a bookstore to open."

"Wait." His deep voice cuts through the morning air, and it does something to my feet because I immediately freeze on the spot.

He jogs up until he's in front of me, blocking my way. "You're blocking my way."

He backs off and sweeps his hand to the side, pointing to the sidewalk. "There. I'm not blocking you. You're free to leave whenever you want."

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