Page 5 of Hooked On Them

Carter was one of those guys who had looks, money, and charm. Yet somehow, you couldn’t even hate him for it. He made it impossible with his golden retriever energy for literally everything. The guy could probably charm a nun into breaking her vows if he really put his mind to it.

I eyed the professional-grade camera. “What’s with the camera? Do you moonlight for the paparazzi?”

He snapped a casual photo of me before I could object. “It’s what I went to school for, and when Leo decided to run the foundation and asked me if I knew any photographers and social media managers, I jumped at the chance to help. Plus, someone has to document all these beautiful people pretending to care about charity.”

I snorted into my champagne. At least someone else saw through this circus we were part of. “You’re one to talk. Isn’t your family’s foundation hosting three different galas this year?”

“Four, actually.” He adjusted his lens, scanning the crowd like a hunter looking for prey. “Speaking of beautiful people...”

I followed his gaze and nearly choked on my drink. Because there, looking completely different from the stern coach who’d been riding my ass all week, was Nora. She wore a deep blue dress that hugged curves that I definitely hadn’t noticed under her team jacket and definitely shouldn’t be noticing now. Her usually pulled-back brown hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and she was smiling.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell is she doing here?” I muttered, more to myself than to Carter, fighting the urge to loosen my bow tie.

“What?” Carter followed my gaze, then broke into a slow grin that made me want to punch him. “Nora? You know her?”

“She just started as the team’s skills coach.” I threw back the rest of my champagne, wishing it was something stronger. “We don’t see eye to eye. Wait. How do you know her?”

“She’s best friends with Paige.” Carter was still watching her with an interest that made my jaw tick.

“My brother never mentioned that his girlfriend was best friends with my coach.” It seemed like a pretty important detail to tell your little brother. The kind of detail that might have prepared me for seeing her here, looking like... that.

I watched as Nora laughed at something someone said, her whole face lighting up in a way I’d never seen at practice. It was... disconcerting because now she looked like she belonged on the arm of a billionaire, not barking at me about my edges.

“Well...” Carter straightened his bowtie with a determined expression I’d seen too many times before. “I think it’s time I make my move.”

My head snapped toward him so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “What?”

“Come on, look at her. Smart, gorgeous, and from what I’ve heard, she takes absolutely no shit. That’s basically my kryptonite.”

“What? No.”

Carter’s eyebrows rose. “No? Any particular reason?”

“Because you’re...” I gestured vaguely at all of him, from his perfectly tailored tux to his carefully tousled hair. “You.”

“Devastatingly handsome? Charming? Wealthy beyond reason?”

“A manwhore,” I finished flatly, feeling like a complete fucking hypocrite.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Carter’s grin was insufferable, mostly because he wasn’t wrong.

“She’s my coach, Campbell.”

“And? I’m not on your team.” He was already stepping away, completely ignoring my objections. “Besides, you clearly can’t stand her, so what do you care?”

I didnotcare. At all. It was professional concern. Carter had a reputation with women that rivaled my own. He collected phone numbers like hockey cards and discarded them just as easily. The thought of him adding Nora to his collection made me furious.

“She’s not your type.” The words came out sharper than intended.

“My type is stunning and standing within arm’s reach, and she qualifies.” He clapped me on the shoulder a little too hard, and I wanted to punch him. “Don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you with your coach.”

I watched him stride confidently across the room, and something dark and uncomfortable churned in my gut as Nora turned toward him, a smile still lighting up her face.

“Fuck this,” I muttered, heading for the bar. I needed something stronger than champagne if I was going to watch Carter work his magic on my... on Hastings.

Not that I cared. She could date or fuck whoever she wanted, even if it was a trust fund playboy who collected women like some people collected art.

I didn’t care. I had better things to worry about, like not punching Carter in his smug, pretty face.

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