More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“One day, some girl is gonna walk into your life and flip your whole world upside down and you’re not gonna know what the fuck to do with yourself except drop to your knees and beg her to never leave.”
“Captain of the Vancouver Vipers. And you can take that ‘sweetheart’ and stuff it up your ass.”
“No shit.” My thumb skates across my jaw at the idea of messing around with a girl who has a decent grasp on the concept of hockey, let alone one who played the game. “House league?” She snorts again. It’s fucking adorable.
“My condo’s right down the street.” “How very convenient for you.” “It’s only a ten-minute walk.” Olivia lifts her beer to those kissable lips. “So close.” “I can get us an Uber if you prefer.” She chokes out a laugh, slapping
“Oh, Mr. Beckett. You are as naïve as you are pretty.” She gives my chest a patronizing pat. “The very last place I’m going is home with you.” “Why?” My face dips closer, and I notice the exact moment her breath catches in her throat. Her tongue peeks out, wetting her bottom lip, spurring on my next whisper. “I wanna fuck you silly. Maybe put you in the penalty box.” Olivia’s face breaks with a snicker, and it’s as cute as the snort. “You can’t seriously tell me you pick up women with lines like that?”
“I have absolutely no desire,” she starts slowly, enunciating every word, for my benefit I’d guess, “to be another notch in your bedpost. I’m sure this whole messy hair, pretty green eyes, crooked smile bullshit you’ve got going on melts many panties, but not mine.” I dip my head, smiling. “So you admit it. You think I’m pretty.” Olivia rolls her eyes. “There’s not a bit of me that’s surprised that that’s your takeaway.”
“Has anyone ever been able to tell you no?” she asks on a whisper. My chest puffs with pride. “Never.” She grins, and Christ, it’s a glorious sight. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.” My forehead crumples as she steps out of reach. “What?” “Enjoy the rest of your night,” she calls over her shoulder before she squeezes through the crowd, disappearing, and Jesus Christ, I’m actually gonna have to go home and do what she told me to: fuck myself. Well, fuck. I don’t like this.
“Winter is coming.” “Winter is here,” she replies, the Game of Thrones reference going where I thought it would—clear over her head.
“It’s gonna be a no from me.” I watch that smug smile melt right off his handsome face before it disappears behind the door I slam. Damn, that felt good.
That’s what battery-powered boyfriends are for, and I keep mine in a drawer at home. In fact, I pulled it out as soon as I got home Sunday afternoon after leaving Carter with his jaw dangling. And yes, I thought of his stupid, hot face while I used it. I’m not ashamed. I’ll never tell anyone.
“Liv, Liv, Liv, Liv, Liv,” Carter chants, punctuating each call of my name with a tap on the glass. “What?” I whisper-yell, finally spinning his way, throwing my hands overhead. His grin is explosive, handsome, sexy, infuriating. Leaning over the boards, he stares down the length of his stick at me, the tip resting on top of the glass. “Hi.” Good Lord, I can’t. What is happening?
But Carter’s not done. Oh no, of course not. He wouldn’t be Carter Beckett if he simply ended it there. He jumps onto the bench, gloves pressed to the glass, grinning down at me. “You like that, Olivia?” he hollers. “That was for you!” By far the worst part, though? My crimson face all over the motherfucking jumbotron.
“Liv’s gonna hollow your eyes out with a spork,” he says, toweling off in the change room. Seems like something she would do. But still, I ask, “Why?” “Why do you think?” It could be a plethora of reasons. Everything I do seems to piss her off. But if I had to take a wild guess …” Because I landed her on the jumbotron?” “Bingo.” I sweep my arms out. “I only showed the world how beautiful she is.” Adam snorts. “That’s good. Save it for when she’s jabbing your eyes out with that spork. Might be your saving grace.”
“Did you call me a manwhore?” I ask as I slide in beside her, catching the tail end of her conversation with Cara. “I would never call you something like that,” she insists, swiping her beer from my hand. “Yeah.” Cara accepts her own drink with a smile. “She called you Mr. Manwhore.” Olivia hides her guilty grin behind the rim of her glass. “It’s much more distinguished.” I give her elbow a gentle pinch. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?” “Me? You literally never stop.” “I’m like a puppy,” I tell her. “Annoying, untrained, and requires a lot of work?” I lean into her, dropping my voice. “I’m
...more
“You walked yourself right into that one. You know you’re tiny, Ollie, right?” “I’m not—” I stick my nose in the air. “What I lack in height I make up for in attitude.” That’s what my dad says, anyway, and I tend to agree with him. “You don’t fucking say,” Carter muses sarcastically. “How tall are you?” “Five-three,” I lie. “Bull-fucking-shit.” He chuckles, pulling back to take me in. “I’m giving you five-one.”
“I like it when you smile,” he murmurs. “It makes me want to smile too.”
“It’s fine. Olivia wanted to hang out with me.” “Uh, that’s not how it happened. You dragged me—” He wraps his arm around my head and yanks me into him, burying my words. “Shhh.”
“I wasn’t. I was doing some last-minute Christmas shopping and got dragged here against my will.” A handsome blond appears at Emmett’s side, giving me a sheepish smile. “Carter doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”
“This is not a date.” “Pretty sure it’s a date, Ollie.” I cross my arms. “Pretty sure you have to ask someone on a date, Carter.” “Eh, whatever. Ask, drag; it’s all the same.” He threads his fingers through mine and hauls me forward. “C’mon, pip-squeak. Let’s go get our faces painted.” “I’m twenty-five. I’m not getting my face painted.” * * * I got my face painted.
“I’m twenty-five. I’m not getting my face painted.” * * * I got my face painted.
“I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.” He nods. “Not a date.” “Not a date,” I repeat. Then he shuts the door, hits me with two finger guns, and yells, “It’s a date!”
It’s in this moment that I realize how earth-shatteringly fucked I am.
“Why are you smiling so big, Auntie Ollie?” I fix the Vipers toque on my niece’s head, covering her ears. “I’m just happy, honey.” She grins up at me. “Happy looks good on you.” Feels damn good too.
And then she fucking smiled at me, and it’s like somebody hit the button on a stopwatch and time restarted, flew forward. Now I’m racing into the weekend, eager to see her.
“Address, please. So I can pick you up tomorrow for our date.” “I—” “Now, Olivia.” Oh look. The feminism has left my body.
