Page 20 of Pinkie Promise

Suddenly she pauses and the fingers on my shoulders begin biting in harder.

“Why areyouhere?” she demands, eyes narrowed and blazing.

Hell if I know. I lift and drop a shoulder and then vaguely say, “Hockey.”

Her eyes narrow even further. “So this is what you do after your games, is it? Come to a place like this for a little post-game relief?”

I can’t think straight and my balance is getting worse by the second. I see a patron needing to squeeze between us and the rammed table behind me so I clutch Fallon tighter, pinning our hips tight against the table’s edge.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“If this place is so damn bad, then what the hell do you think that you’re doing here, Fallon?”

“I need a job, Hunter. Something that rich hockey boys wouldn’t understand.”

“I’ll help you get a job. It doesn’t have to be something like this.”

“Why not? Seems like you’re into it.”

I duck down to her level and look her hard in the eyes. “You keep this job and I’ll be here every night, baby.”

She tries to shove me off of her but I hold her tighter.God, it feels so good to just hold her.I drop my forehead to her shoulder and swear that I almost fall asleep.

“Hunter,” she whispers, maybe realising how gone I am. “You still need to… to…” She squirms her belly a little so that I’ll understand what she’s talking about.

I groan into her neck as my erection thumps against her. “That’s not helping, baby.”

“Oh God, d-don’t call me that, I’m not your… yourbaby,” she whispers frantically, and she starts steering us away from the booth. I don’t know where we’re going but I’ll happily go along with it if it means that I get to stay wrapped all over her.

I pull back and everything is spinning. She’s the one thing that I can focus on in this neon red blur.

“You could be,” I rasp, hooking my forearms around her neck from behind. She ignores everything that I’m saying to her and throws apologetic smiles to the tables we weave through, clearly steering me towards the front door.

When I catch a guy smiling back at her I promise him a long slow death with my eyes.

I’m aware that she’s trying to politely kick me out but, without knowing it, she’s actually taken me back to the hockey table. Most of the guys have stilled on their seats, jaws in their laps as they watch Fallon’s colleague going to town on the bull. Tanner’s on his phone and he glances up as soon as he senses us.

He raises his eyebrows at Fallon and she grits out, “Don’t. Even. Ask.”

“I wanna get you a different job,” I murmur, resting my stubble-coated jaw in the soft curve of her neck. “I can tell that this is what had you stressin’ last week.”

“Stop it,” she hisses. “I need you out of here, now.”

“Why?” I ask, pulling her around so that I can look down at her. “Let me take care of you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she says desperately. “I can’t lose focus right now, Hunter. I have too much going on to let myself have a distraction–”

“Jesus Christ, Ford. I told you: no boyfriends.”

Fallon claws her way out of my arms and I steady myself on the table behind us. She has a pleading expression on her face as she walks over to the woman who just called her Ford.

“He’s not my boyfriend, I swear–”

“That is not what it looks like, Ford.”

“I’m trying to get them out of here, but they’re–”

“You’re trying to get rid of my clients?”

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