Page 7 of Tempt

None of these douchebags have asked yet, and I don’t know if that’s because my rep isn’t as good with them as it should be, or if they’re not sure they’ll get into the game.

Dude-Whose-Sister-I-Banged, though, his eyes light up.

That’s a great sign.

“Sam,” he says, a little breathless. And his breath is whew, heavy with the vodka. Good, he won’t remember that I don’t know his name.

“What’s up, bro?” I scruff him a little. “Haven’t seen you around. You guys having a good time tonight?”

One of the others puffs his chest up. “Always.”

“Great. Good.” I wink and point finger guns at them all. “See you soon, buds.”

An hour later, Dude-Whose-Sister-I-Banged shows up at the table we’ve scored. He’s greedy, I can see it in his eyes. Behind him is a waitress with a bottle, and it’s good stuff. He didn’t cheap out.

“Guys,” I say expansively. “Introduce yourselves to our new friend.”

It works. They all shake his hand, and he tells each of them—unnecessarily—that his name is Cody. Cody Dewar. Over and over again, and then we drink his three-hundred dollar bottle of whiskey.

I’m barely into my second glass when I see Hazel at the bar.

She’s looking at me, where I’m holding court, like I’m a piece of shit. She’s not wrong.

I gesture for her to join us, and she shakes her head, but then something makes her change her mind, and she shrugs.

The way she stalks in our direction is fucking hot. Like she doesn’t give a fuck if anyone thinks she’s mad—she’s not, Hazel doesn’t get mad. She just goes cold. The worst thing Hazel can give you is indifference. It fuckingcuts.

And since she’s bulldozing her way to my table, she is not indifferent. Not tonight. I’m grinning when she stops next to us.

“Cody,” I bark. “There’s a lady present. Get up and give her your seat.”

She snorts. “I’m not staying. Just stopped by to remind Sam that he still has a paper due on Monday.”

We had one class together in four years. It just ended. Well, it ends on Monday, but the joke’s on Hazel. “I turned it in this afternoon.”

Her eyes narrow. “You only started writing it yesterday.”

“I know, I don’t usually spend that much time on an assignment,” I drawl. Then I stand up.

Cody tries to stand, too, but stumbles.

I shove him back into his seat.

He’s misread the situation badly, because he thinks it’s a good idea to tell Hazel she should smile more.

She acts like she didn’t hear him. That indifference, whew. It hurts.

“I said—”

She leans right into his face and nods. “I heard your bro tip. I disregarded it immediately.”

“A bro tip is a pro tip.” He says it like it’s fucking clever. It’s not.

Hazel visibly cringes, and something hardens inside me. A need to prove to her I’m not that guy, even though I clearly am—or at least, I’m a guy happy to drink that guy’s booze and take his money. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes flash. No. The answer is no. It has to be.

I move in and lower my voice. “Please.” She watches my mouth. Maybe she didn’t hear me over the music. I reach for her hand, circling my fingers around her wrist, and she doesn’t pull away. “Come on,” I say. Calculating the odds. Making my bet.

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