Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)

by Meghan Quinn

She knew what this life would be like. I didn’t see her complaining when she got her expensive purses and brand-name shoes. I stare at her, the woman I gave my heart to, and as anger fills me, I say, “Fuck you, Sarah.”

. . I could kick her right in the crotch. Not sure if that’s petty, but it sure as hell would make me feel better. A toe to her camel toe. Blam-o, instant joy for me. “I know nothing about hockey, and

“Please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second. Also, you’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

That makes me smirk. “Damn, and I didn’t even have to do anything to earn the title.” I catch her glance over her shoulder, so I quickly say, “I’m Silas.”

“Did you just try to use some alpha-hero voice on me?”

“How old are you?” She tilts her head. “Twenty-one. How old are you?” “Thirty-one,” I answer. “Ew, you’re in your thirties?” The fuck? “It’s not like I said I was sixty,” I snap. “Still . . . thirties, so old.” “It’s not that fucking old,”

Ew, I kissed an old man.” “You kissed an experienced man,” I point out, growing irritated. “More than I can say for your ex who looked like he still watches Rugrats on Saturday mornings.”

“So . . . would I be your pretend girlfriend to fend off their concerns? Make her jealous? What’s the proposal here?” “You don’t have to. It was a stupid idea,” I say. Her hand lands on my thigh, drawing my attention back to her gleaming eyes. “Maybe it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” “Well, I feel like we could help each other out. I have this assignment to take care of, and I know nothing about hockey. You have friends to fend off and an ex. I think we could, you know, work things out. But . . . the offer has to be good.” She lifts up and smiles.

“Here, enter your phone number and your name. What is it again? Simon?” “Silas,” I say. “Jesus Christ, every hockey fan in the city is crying right now that you got it wrong.” I type my phone number into her phone.

“Ooo, sorry, Mr. Big Shot. Wasn’t aware you were so popular.”

My life had order and structure a few days ago. Same place to live, same friends, same job. Now? It’s been somewhat upended. Where the hell did Ollie Owens, the pint-sized ballbuster, even come from?

“Am I making you mad?” I ask, sensing the tension in his shoulders as well. “Yeah, only because I can’t stand guys who don’t put in the effort.” “Are you saying you put in the effort, Silas?” I ask teasingly. He makes another right, then slowly pulls in front of a lavish hotel. When he puts the car in park, he turns toward me and says, “I don’t come until she comes.” And with that, he’s out of the car and moving around the front to open my door.

It’s easy to forget just how large he is, how his presence can eat up all the air around you. I realized that the moment I first kissed him, and I’m realizing that now as he holds me protectively in front of Yonny. Not just protectively but . . . he’s claiming me. He’s showing everyone in the room exactly who I belong to.

“He’s, uh . . . very protective.” “I can see that. I’m pretty sure every person in this room knows you’re off limits.” “That’s only because he commands the attention.” Yonny shakes his head as he picks up a beef Wellington nugget. “No, he commands nothing from the room other than your attention.”

“Ah, so the grumpiness is just for me to experience.” “Yeah,” I say. “Not like I need to impress you or anything. I already have a signed napkin stating you’re mine.” “Something you should be grateful for.” “Trust me, in that sweater, I’m very fucking grateful.”

She’s so good at being vulnerable. It comes so easily to her that whenever she is vulnerable, it’s almost like those feelings transfer over to me as well.

“Please don’t leave my side. Yonny would do this thing where he took me to events and expected me to hit it off with other people without him. It’s intimidating. I’m much better around people when I’m comfortable.”

“This might sound weird, but I’m comfortable with you around.” “I’ll be at your side t...

“When I say I want nothing to do with Sarah, I fucking mean it. I’m not leaving you. You’ll be by my side the whole time, okay? Remember, you’re doing me a favor, so I’m here for you.”

“God, I’m sorry. I’m stronger than this.” I watch as she steadies her shoulders, lifts her chin, and poises herself for what’s to come. It’s interesting to see someone just drop their fear and anxieties like that, as if to say, I’m done worrying and now I’m moving on.

“Don’t take a page out of my book,” I say. “It’s not a healthy way to live.” “You say that,” she says, tilting her head as she looks at me, “yet you don’t listen to your own advice.” “Never said I was an expert at handling emotions. I just know if you have feelings, you’ll feel better when you get them off your chest.” I run my thumb over her cheek.

“Remember, no ditching me.” “Babe, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” “Babe?” she asks, with a raise of her brow. I just shrug my shoulder, choosing not to address it because honestly, the term of endearment just slipped out. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much I can control these days. Like the way I keep glancing over at her stunning eyes.

“Shame, I could really impress you.” “Stats mean nothing to me. How you treat the people around you, now that’s something to talk about.”

“Do you trust me, Ollie?” “I think so,” she answers. “Then know when I say I won’t let you fall, I’m not going to let you fall.” Her eyes connect with mine, worry etched in them. “You promise?” “Promise.”

“I never noticed your dimples before and how deep they are.” “I got them from my mom,” I say. “Your eyes too?” “Yes,” I say. “How did you know?” “Because despite the stark color that gains someone’s attention from across the room, they’re soft, warm, inviting, the type of eyes I’d expect to see on a mom.” “Not sure anyone has called my eyes soft or warm.” “Then they haven’t been looking hard enough,”

The door unlocks and opens, and when his eyes meet mine, I feel a sense of belonging. It’s odd. Like this man completely understands me despite him not knowing everything.

“We’re friends, right, Ollie?”

“Yes. We’re friends.”

“That means we don’t owe each other anything. You ask, it’s yours.”

And why did you even need me there? I was useless.” “You were anything but useless,” he yells. “Prove it. What could I have possibly offered⁠—” “A shield,” he yells. “You were my goddamn shield. I don’t want to be around Sarah, I don’t even want to be near her, especially since Posey said she’s trying to win me back.” He takes a deep breath and pulls on the back of his neck. “I don’t . . . I don’t want her knowing she has a chance. That’s what you’re for. That’s what this was all about. It’s not my goddamn fault that you’re using me a different way, a way to get ahead.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to do that article. Jesus, Silas. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Are you listening to yourself? Fuck, Ollie. I told you I don’t want Sarah. If I want anyone at this fucking point, it’s you.” Frustrated, he growls out an angry ...

“Wait,” I say, running up to him and standing in front of the door. In a defeated voice, he says, “Move.” “No, I’m not going to let you leave like this.” “Oliana,” he says, unable to look at me. “Just let me go.” “No,” I answer again and step up to him. With my hand that’s not covering my breasts, I press against his chest. “Why don’t you talk to me?” “Beca...

“I can’t talk to you. I can’t tell you how I’m feeling. I can’t tell you how fucking frustrated I am with you. How irritated I am. How I wish I never met you because then I wouldn’t be in this situation of wanting to fuck you so bad that I actually can’t think when I’m around you. And I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want to be buried between your legs because you’re not right for me. We are not right for each other.”

“Just move, Ollie. Please. Let me go.” I press my trembling lips together and shake my head. “I want you to stay here.” “I’m not fucking you,” he says. “Then don’t. Just stay with me, sleep in my bed, don’t be alone.”

“Please, Silas. Stay with me.”

“I’m not talking.” “Then don’t. You can just lie down with me.” He scans me and asks, “Why?” “Because it’s clear you’re hurting.” “I don’t need you to fix me,” he says, trying to move past me, but I stop him. “I’m not trying to fix you, Silas. I’m trying to offer you comfort.” “I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do. And I’m going to tell you right now, if you leave this room, I’m chasing after you, just like this. Nearly naked. Is that what you want?” He wets his lips, looking me up and down again. “No.” “Then stay. Please, Silas, just stay.”

When he glances up at me through his hair, I feel a wave of euphoria hit me all at once. He stayed. He might not say it, but he finds comfort in me, in my small dorm, and this is where he wants to be. Not alone in his large apartment . . . but with me.

I’m in way over my head, and I know I shouldn’t want him in any way, but that damaged look in his eyes, it’s destroyed me. I’ve never seen such demons, such strength when it comes to keeping everything to himself. I want to help him, be there for him, let him know he’s not alone.

I don’t believe he would have said something. Even though he’d probably never admit it, I know he cares about me. I know he wants to protect me.

And that trust he has, it’s very thin, and he’s willing to take it away without blinking an eye. Which just means Sarah must have done the same thing.

But even though his presence electrifies me, I can see something different in his eyes. Not anger, not pain, but vulnerability. It’s right there, in his worn, tired irises. He might not say it, talk about it, or acknowledge it, but I can see it, and that makes me feel like I’m something special to this consuming man.

“I’m sorry, Ollie.”

“Silas, you don’t⁠—”

“Please let me apologize,” he ...

“O...

“I feel like I’m constantly apologizing to you because I keep fucking up, but that’s what...

“You’re not. You’re just...