Page 8 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

I pull up my big girl panties and stride down the hall, my gaze focused on the scuffed paint instead of on him.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, grinning at me.

"It's Cara, not beautiful."

"Right."

I keep walking. He falls into step beside me, his loud steps drowning out the sound of my heels on the concrete.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Just thought I'd see what you were up to," he murmurs. "You here because of the rumors?"

"Rumors?" My brows furrow. "What rumors?"

"Guess not then," he chuckles, his dimples flashing. "You excited about covering your first game?"

"What rumors?"

"Just some bullshit." He waves his hand like he's waving them off. "You know how people make a big deal about nothing."

"Uh-huh," I say, eyeing him sideways. He's being weird. I don't know him well enough to have a great grasp of his normal behavior, but evasive and dodgy doesn't really seem to fit what I do know about him. What rumors is he talking about? And why doesn't he want to tell me anything about them?

"So…the game," he says in a patently obvious attempt to change the subject. "You excited?"

"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking the questions?"

He grins, flashing those dimples again. "Shit. I guess so. Fire away."

I pretend to look at the time on my phone. "Lucky for you, I don't have time. I have an appointment," I lie, stopping at a juncture in the hall that leads toward the locker rooms. "If you'll excuse me…"

Before I can dart down the hallway, he reaches out, placing his hand on my arm. "Let me walk you."

"No, thanks," I say, shaking him off. "And don't touch me."

"Aw, come on. I don't bite."

I narrow my eyes at him, not buying the puppy dog look. The man is photographed with another woman every week. He absolutely bites, and I've never been less interested in being bitten than I am right now. My vagina is literally shriveling at the thought. "Liar."

He just laughs in response. "Fine, but only if you want."

"I don't want," I say firmly. "We've covered this already."

"People change."

"Not that much," I say. "I'm not dating you. Stop trying."

"But this little thing we have going is so much fun, Cara."

I just roll my eyes at him before turning to walk down the hall. Hell would literally freeze over first. But I don't think he wants to hear that. Just like Phoenix doesn't want to hear no.

Corey is easier to figure out than Phoenix, though. Corey will sleep with anything that moves. It's his MO. I'm not so sure about Phoenix. As far as I've been able to tell, he isn't like that. He's never photographed with anyone, never linked to anyone. He lives and breathes the game. So…why is he so dead set on dating me?

It makes no sense. Perhaps that's why he feels like a bigger threat than Corey. Men like Corey are easy to deal with. Eventually, they lose interest. Their egos can only take hearing no so many times before they either turn psycho or cut their losses. Since Corey doesn't strike me as the psycho type, I'm guessing he's the cut his losses type. He'll get bored and move on to someone else soon enough. But Phoenix? I don't know.

Maybe he's already gotten bored and moved on. Is that why he's been radio silent all week? For some reason, I doubt it. It feels more like the calm before the storm, as if he's springing a trap. The man doesn't give up. He doesn't quit or go quietly into that good night. He's up to something.

I'm ready to crawl out of my skin, waiting to see what that something is.