Face Off (Seattle Serpents, #2)

by Teagan Hunter

Me: Parrots masturbate. Keller: Nope. No. I’m out. Hayes: Wait. How do you even know this? Fox: ^ What he said Fox: Have you, like, SEEN it? Me: Don’t be fucking weird, Foxy. Me: I’m sitting at a bar, and I overheard this guy telling his buddies about his brother’s pet parrot who got attached to him and literally masturbated to death. Keller: That’s not possible.

Fox: I need more information on this. For example, HOW? WHY? WHEN? WHERE? And most importantly…WHAT THE FUCK? Hayes: That pretty much sums up all my questions, too.

This place belongs to Rory Sinclair, the twin sister of my teammate’s girlfriend. She’s standing right in front of me. And she hates me.

I’m still at the clinic, trying to convince my ever-faithful client, Mr. Duhaime, his dog does not need his anal glands expressed simply because Petey licked his butthole.

A smile overtakes his face, putting on display bright white, perfectly straight teeth that I am sure are fake. They have to be, right? He’s a hockey player. No way he has teeth that good looking playing in the NHL.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was embarrassed, but I do know better. The guy has far too much confidence to be embarrassed.

Is it wrong that I prefer the mouthy version of her?

“Don’t feel too flattered. That’s not exclusive to you. I love watching the world burn.”

I want nothing more than to see her cloud burst.

“You, Lucas Lawson, are a player. And I don’t mean a hockey player. You use. You take, take, and discard like it’s nothing. You think you’re a godsend to everyone and walk around with a smug, obnoxious grin. You’re the exact kind of guy I want nothing to do with, and your whole schtick of playing cute and innocent with rescuing the dog last night isn’t going to work on me. I see through you, and I don’t like what I see.”

“Can you believe these assholes?” She thrusts her thumb toward the group. “Get here early if you want to sit together. Dicks.”

“You… I…” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, you brought home-cooked bacon for the dog?” “Uh, yeah? Everyone likes bacon.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t.” “Oh, fuck off.”

“I didn’t expect you to say something so psychotic like you don’t like bacon.” “Of course I like bacon, Lawson. I’m not a savage. Anyway…”

“Aye, aye, Wednesday.” She pauses. “Wednesday?” “Yeah, Wednesday Addams.” Her brows shift inward. “From The Addams Family. Black hair, black dress, black outlook on life. She’s pale and⁠—” “I know who Wednesday is, Lawson. I’m asking why I’m Wednesday.” “Why, your sunny disposition, clearly.” “Clearly,” she says dryly.

“Please, the only favorites that woman has are her favorite bottle of wine and her favorite crystal.”

“Did you say hi to our daughter?” Rory sighs heavily. “Once again, we’re not co-parents, Lawson.”

I care that she’s wearing my jersey. I care entirely too fucking much. I’m standing here trying my damnedest not to cross this room and rip it off her, and not for the reasons she thinks.

“For you, Rory, I’d gather every star in this sky and string them high somewhere only for you, just to see you smile like that again.” Her breath stutters. “Making you a key is the best I can do until then.”

Lawson: But to be fair, she’s perfect. Keller: tO bE fAiR

To be fair

Locke: I’m with Fox. Let’s settle down, eh? Lawson: Eh? Want some maple syrup to go with that eh? Or some sweet, sweet O Canada?

Hayes: Actually, he said, “Fuck you, you fucking fuck. I’ll fuck your mom next time you come for me. Heard she knows how to handle a stick, unlike you.” Lawson: Oh shit. Yeah, I did say that. Lawson: But they deserved that chirp! Swear they were out for my blood, and I did nothing wrong.

Locke: I don’t know…that check in the first was ROUGH, even from the bench. Hayes: You tried to send that guy straight to Jesus. Keller: Even I was impressed by it. Lawson: I’m screenshotting this and framing it.

Does he know when I’m thinking about him?

“How’s my girl doing?” “I’m good.” He tucks his lips together, his already vivid gray gaze burning brighter. “I was talking about Daisy.”

“It’s not okay. That was extremely unprofessional and not to mention gross. I hate…” She shudders. “Feelings. I hate having feelings.” I chuckle. “Feelings are normal.” “No. No they are not. I hate them.”

“I’ll go with you…on one condition.” I narrow my eyes skeptically but nod. “Okay…” “I’m bringing my cat.” I laugh. “Deal. You can bring your cat.” “Yes!” She fist-pumps the air. “But, Wednesday?” “Yes?” “Bring my jersey too.”

I never knew watching a guy drive was something I was into, but I’m slowly starting to realize there are a lot of things Lawson does that I shouldn’t find attractive yet do.

“Sure. There’s the Ways Lawson is a Total Asshole list. The Ways Lawson Resembles a Human list. The Places I Could Hide Lawson’s Body list, which is not to be confused with the Ways I Could Murder Lawson list. And of course, there’s the one I just mentioned.” “That’s quite a lot of lists. I’m surprised there’s no Ways Lawson Continues to Turn Me On list.” He grins wolfishly. “Unless there is.” “No,” I answer quickly. Too quickly.

“I’ve never brought anyone else here,” he continues. “Just you and just her. I don’t share this place with people who don’t matter.”

When she’s finished, she wipes her forehead, and I try not to notice how her shirt rides up, or how cute she looks with her cheeks red from the heat of the water…or how adorable it is when she picks up the bourbon I poured her and crinkles her nose when she sniffs it. To my surprise, she tosses it all back in one go. “Ahh.” She wipes her lips. “That was awful.” I laugh. “It’s my favorite bourbon.” “Well, you have shitty taste,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy again, which we all know has like eighty seasons, so I have plenty to do anyway.”

This thing we’re doing is temporary. That’s all it can be, because I’ll be damned if I do something stupid like go and fall in love with him.

“She’s so mean,” I mutter before I realize I’m saying it. Panic races through me, because even I heard the desire in my words. I will myself to act cool and unaffected, even though every cell in my body is itching for me to track her down and show her how much I love that mouth of hers.

“So let me do this. You’re always so busy taking care of everyone else. Let me take care of you.”

“Wait, people bid on items signed by you?” “Yeah, baby, you’re dating a hockey player. People are kind of obsessed with me.” “Are they, or are you just obsessed with yourself?” “Well…”

“If it makes you feel any better, I love you more than I love myself. And I love myself a lot.” “Thank…you?”

“Rory? Like that smart kid? You know, the one with the mom who talks too fast?” “Yes, just like Rory from Gilmore Girls,” I tell him, even though it’s not true.