Page 25

“I’m just saying,” Camden says, trying to recover, “it’s something to think about, that’s all.”

Dmitri’s gaze stays on me. “He’s thinking about it,” he says, flat and calm. “Look at him. He’s thinking about it very hard.”

I force myself to look up, affecting an unbothered attitude, and what I hope is a convincing shrug.

“Wait.” I blink slowly, like I’m just now tuning in. “Oh, you were talking to me?”

Jordan barks out a laugh.

“Asshole,” Camden mutters.

I grin and go back to my skate, pulling the lace tighter.

Except Dmitri’s right.

I am thinking about it.

Just not in the way Camden wants me to.

Because apparently the moral of his story is supposed to be stay the fuck away from Quinn Brennan, and instead, all I can think about is the way she looked at me last night when she told me exactly what she thinks of guys like me.

Puck bunnies. Hookups. Girls whose names I probably forget before I make it home.

She’s got me figured out.

At least, she thinks she does.

And maybe I haven’t exactly given her a reason to think otherwise. I like women. I like flirting. I like sex. I’ve never pretended I’m looking for a wife every time I buy someone a drink.

But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing else to me.

Quinn looks at me and sees the loud player who never shuts the fuck up. The guy who kisses women because they’re there and he feels like kissing them.

Fine.

I can work with that.

Because the more she pushes me away, the more fucking curious I get.

Most women I meet already know what they want from me. A night. A story. A picture they can send to their friends the next morning. Nobody’s getting lied to, and I’ve never had a problem with that arrangement.

Quinn wants none of it.

Hell, she seems personally offended by the entire concept.

And somehow that makes me want her attention more.

Not because she’s playing hard to get. Quinn Brennan wouldn’t know how to play hard to get if someone handed her a fucking instruction manual. When she tells me no, she means no.

But she kissed me back on that Ferris wheel. I felt it.

Maybe I can’t do anything about her dad.

Maybe I can’t change what she thinks about hockey players in general.

But I can sure as hell show her she’s wrong about me.

Camden’s warning should probably have worked.