Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Not Riley,” I say confidently. “She’s got more sense than that. Not all women want to fix broken men. Some want men who come fully assembled.”
“And that’s you, is it?”
I shake my head. “Who the fuck knows, Shawn? She doesn’t want me.”
“Talk to her. Work it out.” Shawn claps me hard on the shoulder. “But lose the Eeyore glum expression, dude. It’s not working for you.”
He strolls away, his usual swagger returning now that he’s got whatever this was off his chest.
Talk to her.
I want to. I don’t like her mistakenly thinking I’m some kind of asshole. Even if she doesn’t want a repeat of Friday night, we need to clear the air.
I want a repeat of Friday night. Instead, I get another two hours in the library, mostly taken up with fantasies of Riley’s hands on me, interspersed with her kissing my brother.
Damn, my mind is fucked.
13
RILEY
The music swirls around me, my noise-canceling headphones creating a bubble of sound that makes my spine tingly. The stupid party last night left me tired and grumpy, and I had an assignment I’d forgotten to complete before my afternoon class.
The coffee shop is busy, but I’m tucked in a corner, chewing my pen and waiting for inspiration to strike. I suspect I’m going to be here for a long time. When a shadow looms over me, I assume it’s a barista clearing my empty cup and hinting that I need to find somewhere else to work, so I keep my head down. Then, the shape pulls out a chair and sits at the table next to me.
When I look up and find Hayes Drayton curled into a too-small chair, his hair damp, and his blue eyes fixed on me, the rush of heat careering through my body makes me woozy. I didn’t know arousal could hit so hard, but the memories of his lips and hands on me spin me out whenever they resurface, which is always at the most inappropriate moments.
I tug off my headphones and straighten.
“What do you want, Hayes?”
“To talk. To explain.”
“I don’t have time for this right now.” It’s the truth, but it sounds like a huge brush-off.
He has such broad shoulders, and on the ice, he can defend against the hugest forwards, but here, my words wound easily. His head lowers, and he lets out a long breath.
“Whatever you thought I meant, you were wrong. I don’t know what else to tell you. I would never hurt you, Riley. And I wouldn’t ever use a woman to get revenge on my brothers or whatever else you might have assumed. I’m not that kind of person, and I don’t like you thinking I am.”
“I’m not the kind of person who appreciates being played,” I say, raising my eyebrows and dropping my pen on the table. “And that’s kind of what it’s like. All of you messing with me out of a need to take revenge for the past.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Riley. And I’m sorry that you feel that way. I spoke to Shawn, and he’s not playing with you, either. He really likes you, but he told me he’d back off if I could fix things with you. Well, he talked about sharing you first, then suggested he’d back off.”
Sharing me? Jesus. I don’t probe any further, scared of what I might uncover.
“And Jacob? Because he’s still hitting on me.”
“He’s what?” Hayes looks like he might burst a blood vessel.
“Last night, he suggested fucking me might fix his headache.”
Hayes grits his teeth so tight that his jaw pops, and he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what to say about that. I’m sorry.”
Is he really? Can I believe him?
If I listened to my instincts about his body language and tone, I’d say he’s being truthful. He seems torn up about what he’s suggesting is a misunderstanding between us and is angry at his brothers for not treating me with respect. When his eyes meet mine, it takes me back to a day when he’d been too sick to play hockey with his brothers and had stayed home with me. We’d sat on the sofa, me with my favorite fantasy book and him watching Star Wars. We hadn’t talked much, but I’d been so conscious of his nearness and his quiet intensity that all the hairs on my arms had stood up in awareness.
I’d wanted to talk to him about my book and find out if he liked to read. I never saw him with books, but he wasn’t like his brothers. He had an introvertedness that I’d understood at the time.
“What are you hoping for?” I ask. “Coming over to me like this with your explanations.”
He stares at me, the intensity of his gaze sharpening into something hungrier. “I want to take you out again. I want to…” His eyes drop, focusing on the torn sugar packets littering the table. “I want to get back to where we were.”