Page 100 of The Wingman

I stare at him with my mouth hanging open. “Are you going to explain?” I ask, incredulous.

“When we get home.”

I make a noise of frustration. “Hayden?—”

“When. We. Get. Home.”

The drive home is short, thank god, and when we step into the elevator, tense energy radiates off him in waves.

Rule number seven of being a player, I add:Don’t date your wingman’s friends.

A tiny, hopeful, stupid little shard of me wants this to be because he’s wildly jealous, but Hayden doesn’t get jealous. I would have seen it by now.

When we get home, he doesn’t even look at me. I catch the sharp lines of his profile as he throws his coat over one of the kitchen chairs.

“I’m going to bed. Good night,” he says in a low tone, kicking his shoes off and not even putting themaway in the closet like he always does. Then he heads down the hallway to our bedrooms without another word.

I stand in the foyer, still wearing my jacket and shoes, listening as his bedroom door closes.

Oh, hell no. I shake my head to myself, frustration growing in the pit of my stomach.

In seconds, I’m outside his door, rapping my knuckles against it. “Hayden.”

No answer.

I knock again. “Hayden.”

“Not now, Darce.”

“Yes, now.” Without thinking, I open his door. “I’m coming in,” I add, when the door is already open.

Hayden stands in only his tight boxer briefs, glaring at me. Even his dark mood can’t detract from how gorgeous he looks, all powerful, toned muscle and golden-blond hair.

God, he’s so hot.

“Where are your clothes?” I sound outraged, like I’m not the one who threw his door open.

He puts his hands on his trim hips. “I’m going to the gym.”

“Now?” He even has those V-muscles pointing into the waistband of his boxers. I didn’t notice those the other day because I was too busy having the most intense orgasm of my life.

“Yes.”

“I thought you were going to bed.”

He exhales a rough noise, pacing across the room, agitated. “I need to do something.”

“Read a book,” I suggest lightly. I hate fighting with him like this. It feels all wrong. “WatchThe Northern Sword.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t sit down right now.”

“Rip into me, then.” I give him a pointed look. “Maybe that’ll help. I’ve clearly pissed youoff.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”

A humorless laugh of complete fucking disbelief slips out of me. “Hayden. Look. I’m sorry I went out with Alexei. I’ve learned my lesson. But you acted like a complete asshole to both Georgia and Alexei all night. And then when I actually tried to practice these things you’ve been teaching me, you dragged me out of there like a teenager out past her bedtime.”

His throat works, and he gives me a pained expression.

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