Page 50 of The Wrong Play

Like I was supposed to know.

The linemen, who I could only assume were linemen because I didn’t think most athletes were built like that, stood in a perfect formation, arms slung over each other’s enormous shoulders, swaying like they were drunk on a rocking boat.

And then—like the gates of hell had opened and Lucifer himself had decided to ruin my life…

The linemen parted down the middle, their giant bodies shifting like the Red Sea making way for the world’s most obnoxious golden god.

Jace. Freaking. Thatcher.

Striding into the bookstore like he owned it.

Shirtless. With my name painted boldly across his obscenely muscular chest in bright red letters. The smuggest, sexiest smirk I had ever seen stretched across his perfect, infuriating face. His ridiculous, Troy-era golden-blond hair flowed behind him like he was some kind of Grecian war hero.

I forgot how to breathe.

Because he wasn’t just shirtless. He was tan, all perfect flexing abs, walking like he was about to take over the world, and he had…props. A gold microphone—because why wouldn’t he?!

His insufferable smirk only got wider as he lifted the mic and growled out the next part of the song like he was in a sold-out arena.

“Meeeee!” he finished, as he threw the microphone over his shoulder, dropped low like he was about to start a whole strip routine, and rolled his hips.

I. Wanted. To. Die.

College coeds in the store literally screamed as they recorded him. One girl dropped her iced coffee and let out an excited sob. Rachel, my coworker, was openly fanning herself, while Eddie looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Jace didn’t take his eyes off me. He dragged his hands down his abs, flexing in a way that was obscene before popping back up and pointing directly at me.

The bookstore erupted into even more chaos, and I was a little afraid there was about to be a stampede of screaming fans.

Jace spread his arms wide and grinned at me like he had just won something. “So, Riley-girl, what do you say?”

For a long, excruciating moment, I juststaredat him.

At the cocky tilt of his head. The golden glow of his skin under the fluorescent lights. The way his entire body looked like it had been sculpted by some higher power with an unnecessary attention to detail.

At mynamepainted across his bare chest like a brand.

Jace didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just watched me.

And something in his expression—something dark, knowing,certain—sent a surge of panic straight through me.

I turned on my heel and sprinted out the back of the bookstore.

My heart beat against my ribs as I shoved past shelves, darting into the dimly-lit hallway that led to the only possible escape—the elevator. Waiting with its doors open like my saving grace.

My fingers were shaking as I slammed the button, my pulse thundering in my ears.Come on,come on,come on.

The doors started to slide shut, and I exhaled, pressing my back against the wall, closing my eyes. Okay. Deep breaths. Everything was going to be all right. I’d get to the lobby, slip out the side entrance, and by the time I got to my dorm, this would all be a bad?—

A foot slipped through the gap.

A strong, muscled arm followed.

And then, before I could process what was happening, Jace was inside the elevator with me.

I froze, my entire body locking up as the doors sealed shut behind him, trapping us together in the tiny, too-small, airless metal box.

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