Page 53 of Silver Fox Puck

I gape. “Nothing is interesting. Nothing at all.”

He arches a brow. “Oh really?” He turns to Grant. “Because I was under the impression you were just here to pick me up, Coach. But I’m starting to think… maybe not.”

Grant doesn’t blink. Doesn’t react. Just sips his coffee like Kingston isn’t stirring up trouble. I, however, am not as calm.

“Don’t you have bags to grab?” I snap.

Kingston’s grin doesn’t budge. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. I can multitask.”

I freeze.

Because what the hell did he just call me? We are not so chummy as to be using any terms of endearment.

My gaze whips to Grant, who lowers his coffee cup just slightly. And that’s when I see it. The flicker of something dark. Something possessive.

Oh, shit.

Kingston notices the tension spike.

“Well, well well,” he crows out. Then he just slaps Grant on the shoulder, still grinning.

“Better be careful, Coach. I hear flight attendants are real heartbreakers.”

Grant’s smirk instantly disappears. I don’t get a chance to shut Kingston up before Grant sets his coffee down on a nearby bench and takes a slow, deliberate step toward me.

The shift in his energy is subtle, but I feel it like a physical touch. The teasing glint in his eyes is gone. What’s left is darker. He doesn’t look mad, exactly. But there’s an edge to him now, a quiet intensity that sets every nerve in my body on high alert.

Kingston, completely into the tension flying around him grins. “Man, this is fun. Maddox, I never thought I’d see you looking this—”

“Go get your bags, Kingston,” Grant says smoothly, cutting him off.

It’s not a suggestion.

Kingston hesitates for half a second, then lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m going.” He throws me a wink before turning toward the baggage carousel.

The second he’s gone, Grant steps in closer, his voice dropping low. “You want to keep playing games, Flight?” His fingers skim the inside of my wrist, slow and deliberate. “Fine. But don’t expect me to join you if the game is multi-player.”

My pulse spikes, but I keep my face neutral. “I don’t know what you mean, Silver Fox.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “I think you do.”

I swallow hard. “If this is about Kingston, I was just—”

“I don’t give a damn about Kingston.” His voice is still calm, but there’s no mistaking the heat underneath.

A shiver rolls through me, and I hate that he sees it. I hate that I don’t push him away, that I don’t throw some snarky comeback and walk off with my head high. Because the truth is, I like this new side of him. Too much.

His fingers brush the inside of my wrist again, and this time, my breath catches. He leans in, just close enough that only I can hear what he says next.

“We both know how this ends, Flight. Keep playing hot and cold if you want but keep this between us.”

He steps back, picks up his coffee, and walks toward the carousel without another glance.

And I just stand there, pulse hammering, stomach tight, because I know—

He’s right.

And I have no idea how much longer I can keep pretending otherwise.

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