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

by Meghan Quinn

“Ugh, come on, can’t you think of something? I mean, I’d offer sexual favors at this point.” He raises one brow in question. “But as we established, this is a business transaction, not a whorehouse.”

Don’t worry, dude. I’m not happy either because now I need to run with this story.

“What the mind wants, the mind gets,” I respond. The way he snorts steam in my direction makes me believe he doesn’t like that response.

Go ahead, man. I’m exhausted.

After the chicken tender–donkey debacle, he could be guzzling it.

“Embarrassing me. Was it worth the minuscule leap you must have taken in his eyes?”

“Well, control yourself. Jesus. If you’re going to make moves in this world, in this career, then you’ll have to grow up, Ollie.”

He pulls away just enough to cup my cheek and stare into my eyes. From an outsider looking in, it looks like we’re head over heels in love. But I like this. I like that this gentle man, who I’m coming to see could have an ego the size of Mike Tyson’s, has chosen to make our moment of apology look like something romantic. I certainly chose a good one for my fake boyfriend. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally try to make me look like a donkey-loving pervert.”

“Pretty sure you lost all credibility when it comes to explaining or telling any kind of story. You’re a loose cannon, and I won’t allow it to happen again.”

“Is that what was happening?” I ask, the back of my neck growing hot at the thought of him possessing and acting on that sort of attitude in real life.

And then there’s Ollie and what might come out of her mouth.

“Listen, I might be a loose cannon, but now that I’m seasoned, I totally got this.”

She nods. “Okay, yeah.” She lets out another deep breath. “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. Not sure I even can do that. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“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.

Ollie is fun to be around, and I appreciate her keeping my mind off my demons.

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

“Why do I feel like that’s an innuendo to call you daddy?” I nearly choke as I glance down at her. “How the hell did you get that?” She shrugs. “I don’t know. You just seem like one.”

She glances up at me, those beautiful eyes of hers penetrating right into my soul. “I can say with full confidence that this will be the beginning and the end of my ice-skating journey.”

Filled out in all the right places. Poised. Confident. Styled. I feel like a child compared to her.

If there is one type of person I know how to deal with, it’s a bitchy one. “Thank you, I can give you the name of my night cream if you want. It works wonders.” Her face falls flat.

What happened to not leaving me behind? Good God, this man.

I just shrug. “He’s not with her. He’s with me. That’s all I need to know.” “You know, I might have a girl crush on you.”

That makes me chuckle as I take the last bite of my meatball.

I shouldn’t be offended by that. It’s a job after all. This is what I signed up for.

And as I stare at him, I wonder if I would have flirted if I had randomly seen him at the bar that night rather than using him to prove a point. Probably not.

Evil . . . but also fucking pretty.

She looks away and says, “It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

Yeah, she’s upset. From her downcast eyes to the slump of her shoulders, it’s plain as day. I fucked up . . . again.

She turns her back toward me, and I realize I have two options here. I can either let her be and probably end up fucking this friendship up more than I want, or I can stay and let her know that she isn’t just an accessory. I choose the latter.

I rub my thumb along her skin again. “To fuck with you. That’s what they do. They try to mentally fuck with you. They try to keep us holding on to what we used to have.” “Did it work for you?” she asks. “It did. What about you?”

She moves an inch closer till our knees touch and says, “If you were mad at me. Or obsessed maybe. Or in some passionate—yet fake—moment when you call me by my birth name, thinking it will make me weak in the knees. It won’t happen.”

“Well, I’m feeling like I have a touch of whiplash with you. One second, you’re incredibly sweet and helping me through this odd arrangement we have, then the next, you ignore me completely, and now you’re back to the first guy.”

Her one brow hooks in the air. “When did you become my chauffeur?”

“Did you want me to stay?” I ask. “I don’t care what you do with your life.” “Clearly, you do if you’re making a comment.”

“When I’m with a woman, I’m hers and only hers.”

I want to be touched like that. I want to be worshipped. I want to feel fucking wanted.

“You’re real mature. You know that?” He snags the chicken tenders from me and takes a bite of one.

And I’m curious what it would be like to sit in this moment with him, eating ice cream, and then to simply kiss his jaw just because I can.

He huffs out a heavy breath and looks away. “That’s what I thought. Don’t treat me differently. I’m really okay. I had fun, and I appreciate you going to the zoo with me and making me laugh . . . even if it was at your expense.”

And when he leans in another inch, I feel my heart stop . . . just as he pulls away, putting so much space between us that a wave of cold

trickles down my spine, as well as embarrassment.

“I think something is wrong with me,” I say to Ross as I sit next to him in the lecture hall. For such a small class size, we sure do have a large classroom. “What’s it this time?” Ross asks as he brings his coffee to his lips.

“Thanks.” I smirk. “Someone left it in my dorm, and as I like to say, finders keepers.”

“Not really,” he answers while picking up his glass of water. “The goal was to play hockey professionally. I didn’t have a backup plan, didn’t want one. I studied kinesiology to educate myself on my body and understand how to take care of it so I could reach my goals.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.” He shakes his head. “You can call me Silas or babe. Those are your options.”

“I understand that, but you’re never going to get anywhere without integrity.”

“And you can do damage to a girl that young if your head isn’t on straight.”

“What are you? Her fucking father? Jesus, Posey.”

She can be incredibly convincing, and for some stupid-as-shit reason, I’m easily convinced.

“We have an event to go to, sweet cheeks,” I say, but my voice sounds more menacing than anything.