Page 66 of Silver Fox Puck

“Let me guess.” He sets his mug down. Takes a step toward me. “One of those plans includes pretending last night didn’t happen?”

My pulse ticks up. He’s right. And I hate that he knows it.

I grab my phone off the counter and start texting Allie. Need a distraction.

Grant’s voice lowers. “Texting your escape plan?”

My thumbs hover over the screen. I don’t answer. Because I don’t have to. His smirk says he already knows.

Smug asshole.

I clear my throat. “I have brunch with Allie.”

He tilts his head. Studies me.

“You’re a terrible liar, Flight.”

I narrow my eyes. “And you have a team to coach. Shouldn’t you be scaring rookies and barking orders by now?”

He shrugs, stepping closer. “I’m taking the morning off.”

Of course he is. Because why wouldn’t he make my life more difficult?

I exhale sharply and move toward the bedroom. “Well, I don’t have the morning off. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

But before I can take another step, his hand brushes my waist. Just for a second. Just long enough to send a shiver straight down my spine.

I freeze.

His voice drops to a gravelly murmur.

"You in a hurry, Flight?"

My stomach tightens. Because he’s not asking. He’s challenging me.

I swallow hard and step away, pretending like I don’t feel off-balance now that he’s not touching me.

“I just think if I’m late, Allie will assume I’m tangled up in another bad decision.”

Grant lets out a low, rough chuckle.

“That what this is?” he asks, amusement threading through his tone.

I grab a hair tie from the counter, twisting it around my fingers. “What else would it be?”

Grant doesn’t answer right away.

And that silence? That silence is dangerous.

Then he takes a slow step forward.

And another. Until he’s so close, I can feel the heat of his skin radiating through the space between us.

He reaches past me, plucks my coffee mug off the counter.

Takes a sip.

Then—without breaking eye contact—he grins.

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