Page 72 of The Players We Hate
He was across the barn, leaning against a post in the shadows. Dark flannel rolled to his forearms, arms crossed, eyes sharp under the low brim of his trucker hat.
Of course he had to look ridiculously handsome, and don't even get me started on those arms.
He saw me almost instantly.
Then he straightened, pushing off the beam as if he’d been waiting. My stomach dipped.
No pretending to play it cool. He cut through the crowd, boots hitting the floor hard. By the time he stopped in front of me, he was close enough to block out everything else —the music, the lights, the room.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped.
I raised a brow, pretending I hadn’t been plotting my escape for the past five minutes. “Good to see you too, Talon.”
He ignored the jab, jaw tight as his eyes dragged down the length of me and stalled at the strip of skin showing beneath my knotted flannel.
“This isn’t your scene.”
I shrugged, forcing calm. “It’s a free country.”
His nostrils flared. “Not tonight, it’s not.”
“I came with Alisa.”
“I don’t care who you came with. You shouldn’t be here.”
My spine straightened, chin lifting. “Why? Afraid I’ll see something I’m not supposed to?”
His eyes narrowed, heat sparking there. “I don’t trust you.”
“Says the guy who’s already proven how much of a dick he can be.”
“Don’t forget it either.” His voice dropped lower, rougher, the sound sliding over my skin. Too close. Close enough to catch the mix of cedar and sweat clinging to him. Close enough that my pulse betrayed me.
I hated him. I hated that he made me feel like I had to prove something just for standing my ground.
“I don’t need your permission to be here,” I said.
“No,” he countered, stepping closer until I could feel the heat rolling off him, “but you should be smart enough to know when you’re walking into a fight you can’t win.”
His breath skimmed my skin. “Tell me, Wren. You after trouble?”
I forced my voice steady. “You don’t scare me.”
His mouth tilted, almost a smirk. “Maybe you should be scared.”
A sharp laugh slipped out of me. “You really think this is about you?”
That made him pause, his eyes cutting sharp, unsure if he wanted to argue or close the space left between us.
I leaned in first, enough that he couldn’t ignore it. “You don’t get to question me. You don’t get to corner me in some barn and act like I’m a threat to your world.”
His jaw flexed, words caught somewhere between his teeth.
“I meant what I said before,” I muttered, my mouth close to his. “So, you can stop trying to prove how big of an asshole you are, Talon.”
His inhale was quick, sharper than I expected.
“And from here on out,” I said as I pushed past him, “stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t exist.”
