Page 6 of Best Man on Campus

“Whoa, baby. Take it easy with the beer. You might get tipsy and then I might take advantage of you.”

“You enjoy being outrageous, don’t you?”

“Can’t help who I am. May as well enjoy it.” Her smile falters, just a small crack in the façade, but I see it. Of course I do. I have a talent for finding the broken girls. For trying to fix them. But this isn’t the time or place for that and Jazzy is not the right broken girl. Because there is no right broken girl.

My mug is empty and I force myself to a stand. I’m ready to leave to rejoin my team, when she lifts her mug and drains it.

“Watch out,” I say, serious as fuck. “That beer might go to your head after blood loss.” My concern is real.

She laughs like I’m a comedian and slips her arm through mine.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too serious? It’s a good thing you’re a gorgeous hunk or you’d never get any girls. Let’s go see the rest of the hot hockey players.”

My grin is automatic though I’m not exactly flattered. And exactly sure that it’s not a good idea to hang out with the she-devil. But short of being a rude dick, I can’t turn her away. So I go with her.

We reach the tables where most of my teammates are gathered, surrounded by half a dozen girls, none of them with Jazzy’s spark or sex appeal. Not just because of her damn wet T-shirt. I think she would be the sexiest woman in the room even if she were in a fully padded goalie uniform. The appeal goes deep, down to her cells, to her soul, with her passionate voice and the innate sensuality that she wears freely and proudly.

“Jazzy, meet my friends Kace and Stone and Voz—Noah Vozeniek.” She nods and the guys say hello, the glint in their eyes betraying their more than polite interest.

Voz, a defenseman on the team, winks at her. “I know Jazzy.”

Figures. He might have been the guy who originated the rumors I heard about her. But she doesn’t react to him, doesn’t give him any sign of recognition or acknowledgment and shows no embarrassment.

“Guess you don’t know her that well,” I say and move on. I introduce her to Lara, who nods with a half smile, and three more guys until Jazzy throws up her hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Just sayin’, don’t expect me to remember a single one of your names tomorrow.”

Stone tells her he likes her voice and she says who doesn’t. They talk hockey and Lara catches my eye. She pouts and slides up to my side, the one not occupied by Jazzy, who’s still hanging off me like she needs the stability. Maybe she does. Her cut must hurt like a bastard.

“Hey, Ben,” Lara says. “You wouldn’t mind giving me a ride home, would you? I could make it worth your while—”

“That sounds like a no-brainer invitation,” Jazzy cuts in, her attention fully on us, holding onto my arm tighter, as she stares at Lara with a vicious smile.

“What would be even better,” she says, “is if I come along for the ride. We can have ourselves a threesome. How about it, blondie?”

I suppress a laugh. Lara shoots me a glare.

“You’re disgusting,” she says to Jazzy. I feel Jazzy stiffen at my side and the last thing we need is a repeat of her earlier venture into catfighting.

“Disgusting? You don’t even know.” Jazzy lets go of my arm and her chin juts in the air. Moving quickly, my arm goes around her shoulders. I pull her close to me and hold her in place, tight. Lowering my head, I whisper in her ear.

“Don’t worry, Jazzy. I’m not going home with her.”

Lara gives me one last glare and flips me the finger before she walks off. I can’t blame her.

“You’re just full of piss aren’t you?” I say to Jazzy. “Someone kill your kitten today?”

“I don’t believe in kittens. Or unicorns.” She gives me an evil sexy smile and I have no trouble believing she dislikes kittens and is allergic to the unicorn concept. Her smile is designed to light my cock on fire and I can’t say I don’t feel a spark. Her shirt is almost dry, but her nipples still show through loud and clear. I’m trying not to stare, to keep my eyes on her falsely innocent-looking dimples. But she knows what she’s showing and she’s not above using her tits as weapons in a war of wills.

“But I do believe in fucking hockey players. What are you doing tonight, hot stuff? What’s your name again?”

I snort. She knows my name. If she doesn’t, all the better. I turn away.

“Not up to it, eh?” She says it loudly, meaning for my friends to hear it. Meaning to embarrass me, not knowing that I don’t give a shit because I have nothing to prove.

“I thought you hockey guys were manly.”

A chorus of oohs comes up from the crowd gathered around our table, distracted from whatever conversations they were having. The guys are egging her on now, giving me shit for nothing because that’s what they do. Not that I care about peer pressure. And not that I want anything to do with the likes of Jazzy.