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Chase: And say hi to my BFF Morrison? It would be my pleasure.
What was hockey, again?
Chase glanced over my shoulder at the door, raising his voice a level. “I said, Paul is an asshole. He can’t fucking skate, either. Feel free to quote me.”
“I love you,” she said softly. She beat me to it.
Then I set a motherfucker straight.
Didn’t need to be a psychic to know he was a cretin.
“Fuck around and find out.” I turned, then, and strode toward my girl.
He extended his hand, offering me a firm handshake—way firmer than necessary. Were we doing this now? Maybe we could pull out a ruler next.
She wound up and slapped him so hard it echoed through the concourse. Oh snap. I wasn’t expecting that. And neither was he. Sucker. God, I fucking loved her.
Luke dropped his hand, exposing a red handprint on his face. It was beautiful. Really suited him.
