“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.”
