Page 85 of Beautiful Collide

“It’s not going to be us,” Dane responds flatly.

Josie pouts harder.

“Since Molly and I are besties now, we can adopt him,” Hudson announces with that infuriatingly chipper tone of his.

I pivot so fast that I nearly fall over. “What?”

Has the man lost his mind? Does he ever think before he speaks?

“It’s a great idea, right?” His voice is sugary sweet, and his grin is so wide I want to smack it off his face.

Damn bet. Seeing as everyone from the team is here—and they’re all officially in on the bet—I plaster on my fakest smile, aware of the watchful eyes.

“Maybe. Seeing you with a dog would be a highlight of my life.” I move closer, lowering my voice so only he can hear. “Watching you clean up shit, that is.”

He throws his head back in a boisterous laugh. “I think it’s a done deal.”

Hudson leans in close, his voice a low murmur, sending heat prickling along my neck. “I know you want to kill me.”

“Guess I owe Mason twenty bucks. I bet you’d break before the end of the event,” Dane chimes in, smirking.

Hudson leans down so only I can hear. “Double or nothing, I make you snap before dinner?”

I open my mouth, ready to fire back, when I catch sight of the photographer stepping in front of us. The last thing I need is photographic evidence of me losing my temper.

“I need you guys closer,” the photographer says.

Hudson obeys immediately. “Perfect. Almost there.”

Before I can react, Hudson wraps me in his arms, smooshing the Maltese puppy between us.

The warmth of his chest seeps into me, and for half a second, I forget to be annoyed. The camera flashes, the puppy wiggles, and for just a moment, I feel something dangerously close to contentment.

I smile broadly, mustering the fakest one I have inside me. But for a moment, as the camera flashes and in the warmth of his arms, I almost smile for real.

Almost.

A small part of me wonders what it would be like to have a dog. The unconditional love, the companionship . . . but then reality sets in. There is a “no pets allowed” rule in my apartment. Not even a goldfish. If I want unconditional love, I’ll have to get it elsewhere.

Or in my case . . .

Never.

29

Molly

Dinner before a hockeygame is always chaotic.

Dinner with the Redville Saints before game one of the eastern conference semifinals is something else.

It’s loud. It’s ridiculous. And apparently, it’s now my personal hell.

Like tonight, it’s like I’m trapped in a bad 1990s sitcom, and I’m the punchline.

When I walk into the room, I make a beeline to sit as far from Hudson as possible. I don’t even look at him, knowing his smirk is probably locked and loaded.

Of course, the whole team has different plans.

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