Page 38 of Puck Block

I snake my hand across her body and place it beneath the glucose monitor. “Stop acting like this is a flaw instead of a perfect addition to this killer body, Taytum.”

I nearly twitch from the compliment I give her but it’s the truth, and she clearly needs to hear it.

“Perfect addition?” She continues to stare at her arm, and I want to growl, just to make her look at me. “It’s…the furthest thing from sexy. Can you imagine some guy taking off my shirt and the first thing he sees is this?”

“This”—I circle the device with my finger—“keeps you alive,” I remind her. “So, to me, it’s a fucking gift.”

Taytum says nothing, and the longer we stand in the mirror with nothing but our heartbeats to fill the space, the more I feel obligated to prove to her that she’s perfect–which isn’t in my plans for this evening—orever.

“Spin.”

Taytum doesn’t budge, which isn’t surprising.

I forcefully turn her, and my fingers slip into her tight leggings. In a single whoosh, I shove them down her smooth legs, ending at her ankles, and rip them from her cute little feet.

My teeth clank together when I turn and grab her ripped skinny jeans that make every guy salivate, and I beg myself not to drop my eyes to her panties when I turn back around, but I’m not thatself-disciplined.

Matching bra and panties. Fuck me.

I hold out her jeans, and she snatches them with frustration. As soon as she buttons them, I move her to the bed and make her sit. I slip the cowgirl boots onto her feet, and I’m honestly a little surprised when she doesn’t kick me. Her high-pitched yelp makes me chuckle when I pull her to her feet. “You ready?”

She throws her hands up before they land on her hips. “I don’t know! Am I?”

“Oh, you’re ready.” I wink at her, and we head for the door.

To make myself feel better for the dirty little thoughts coursing through my head at the sight of her in nothing but a bra and a pair of panties, I glance behind my shoulder at her. “Give me some space, will ya? I don’t want your hot sorority sisters to get the wrong idea and think we’re together or anything.”

Taytum’s eye roll is the first of many for tonight, I’m sure.

[ 17 ]

TAYTUM

The neon signthat flashesThe Rodeo Barevery few seconds is probably tempting to every girl my age, inanyother situation except the one I’m currently in. Ford opens my door, and I peer up at him through my thick lashes that I coated with mascara on the drive over and immediately laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask through a laugh, all while ignoring his outstretched hand.

My cowgirl boots crunch against the gravel as I erase the short distance between us. I tip my chin and meet his lazy smile, but even with my boots giving me an advantage, Ford is at least a head taller than me.

His cowboy hat is at leasttwoheads taller than me.

“What?” How he keeps a straight face, I’ll never know.

My father always said Ford had the best poker face, and at this moment, I agree.

Another laugh falls out of my mouth, and before I know it, I’m placing my hand on his crisp white tee to steady myself as my shoulders shake with laughter.

“Excuse me,ma’am...” Ford has a Southern drawl to his voice that typically makes an appearance when he’s been drinking, but I know for a fact he’s sober, because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to stay in character. “Is something funny?”

I snort, and there’s the tiniest dimple digging into his cheek.

“Come on.” I flip my blonde hair over my shoulder to get a glimpse of the business behind me. “What is all this?”

Ford gestures to the bar sign flashing. “It’s our stage.”

I bite my lip with confusion, but Ford grips my hand and tugs me to the front of the bar before I can ask any questions. Blue lights illuminate his tight t-shirt, and I can’t help but stare at him for a second too long. Who would’ve thought that a hockey player in leather boots, blue jeans, a perfectly clean white t-shirt–hugging his biceps–and a cowboy hat could look sohot?

I briefly touch my forehead with the back of my hand when shame heats my skin. Even though he's dressed up as a cowboy like it’s Halloween, he’s stillFord.He’s still the guy who sabotaged every date I’ve ever been on and the one who helped my brother spread rumors around our high school so no one would ask me out. He’s also the same broody hockey player that has interrupted every kiss I’ve ever encountered in the last several years.

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