Page 39 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"Fine, Mr. Know It All, what am I thinking?" I challenge, meeting his eyes across the table.

He laughs, a low rumble that echoes in the empty rink. "You're thinking about that night and how it was the biggest mistake and now you're here out of guilt, refusing to acknowledge that you and I have more chemistry than you and my brother." He takes another sip like it's a beer, eyes never leaving mine. "You've been with the wrong brother, Hannah."

He takes another sip to fill the silence that follows, and I find myself studying the strong line of his throat as he swallows. The confidence with which he speaks should irritate me, but there's something disarming about his directness. No games, no pretense—just raw honesty that cuts through all my carefully constructed defenses.

"Give me some of your drink. What is it?" I say, needing something to do with my hands, something to break the tension that's building between us.

He looks at it like he doesn't know. "On tap root beer."

"Oh-Kay." I grab it and take a sip. The sweetness hits my tongue, rich and familiar. "It's missing something."

"Missing something?"

I nod, giving him eyes. "Ice cream."

"I'll make sure to get that next time."

I hand him back the drink and wonder why he thinks there will be a next time. But I'm also not immediately shutting down the possibility. The old Hannah—the one from a week ago, before all this madness—would never have entertained the idea of a second date with someone like Sanderson. But that Hannah seems increasingly like a stranger to me now.

"Or we could go for ice cream right now?" he suggests, leaning forward slightly.

I watch him closely, not knowing if that's a good or bad idea. I really don't want to be seen in public with him. Not yet. Not when the wounds are still fresh, when Cade's anger is still so raw. Not when I'm still trying to understand what this pull toward Sanderson even means.

"Admit it, Hannah," he says, his voice softening. He studies for my face, not continuing.

"What?" I ask, though I think I know what he's about to say.

"It's okay to like me after liking my brother. We're different cut, same bread."

"God, that sounds wrong in every possible way." I shake my head, but I can't help the small smile that forms. "And you're just so keen, so fine with dating your brother's ex?"

He laughs, a sound that's becoming dangerously familiar. "First of all, you didn't sleep with him, so yeah. And second, you like me much more, so yeah."

"I—" I stop myself because even though we're in a difficult circumstance, this moment is fine—comfortable, enjoyable, easy. Things that my nerves were too wired for when near Cade. I had to always make sure I was saying the right things or acting a certain way. I put on an act for Cade, and I am not doing that with Sanderson.

For now. Until he gets over me, then we'll be fighting like cats and dogs.

Because that's what this is, right? A temporary fascination. A forbidden fruit thing. Once the novelty wears off, once he realizes I'm not just some challenge to conquer, he'll move on. That's what guys like him do. That's what his reputation says, at least.

"We can sit in my car and eat a cone," he offers, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Your car?" The suggestion sends an unexpected thrill through me.

He nods. "Tinted windows, anyone who sees you will think you're just another girl."

The words hit differently than he intended, reality crashing back like a wave. "Wow, well that's quite the proposal. Very nice to know you have different girls that often."

"That's not what I meant," he says quickly, regret flashing across his face.

"I know you didn't mean it that way, but that's how it sounds."

"And you say I don't have a filter?" There's a smile in his voice, an acknowledgment.

I smile back, unable to help myself. "Guess we both don't."

"That's why it'll work…between us." His eyes hold mine, and there's that flutter in my stomach again, a sensation I'm becoming alarmingly familiar with.

I laugh, but it's forced. "There's no us."

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