And then he’s off, his head bobbing through the crowd as he makes his way to the back door where people are spilling out onto the deck.

I turn and look for Zack on the steps, my eyes going up to the top of the staircase, and there he is, his face in a bit of a scowl. Wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and a tight black shirt with the HU Lions logo on the sleeve, he draws the eye—straight to his muscled chest and those rock-hard abs below it. He motions with his head for me to come to him.

You come to me, my eyes say, and his nose flares.

Even though I know he’s annoyed, even that small action makes my heart jump. He’s like dynamite, and I never know what’s going to set him off.

Why do I like it?

I lift my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and take a sip of my drink.

He exhales a breath and eases down the stairs, pushing past the people who’ve taken up residence there. A girl calls his name and while he gives her a smile, I know it isn’t real, because I’ve seen his real smiles. He keeps moving, coming down, and I eat him up. What man has the right to look that damn good? Lithe and graceful, he jumps the last three steps and lands at the bottom, and never once has he taken his gaze off me. I swallow. It’s intimidating to be the center of his undivided attention, and I wonder if all his girlfriends get this treatment. There’s an earthy, dominant warrior quality to him, one that calls to the softness in me. He’s confident and has purpose, and shit, he wants me. I know it in the way he can’t take his eyes off me.

I count the seconds it takes for him to cross the room. One, two, three, four, five and here he is. I try to speak—even a hello would do—but nothing comes out.

Why does he make me so tongue-tied?

“About time you got here,” he says in a gruff voice.

18

Zack

My cock gets hard the second she walks in the door, her face uncertain as she looks for a place to stash her coat. I’ve never known someone who was so attached to a coat. Maybe it’s a Southern thing. It makes me want to dig deeper into her past, into her family and figure out who she really is.

Her dress blows my mind, tight and short and hugging her tits.

The entire day I’ve been itching to see her, and my eyes follow her, taking in the long legs and the way her blonde hair spills down her back.

My hand is shaky as I stick it in my pocket. I want her. I fucking want her and it has shit to do with any resemblance. She ticks all my boxes. She’s introverted and awkward and funny—everything I didn’t know I liked—and her luscious lips with that indentation on the bottom are made for kissing me.

My breathing deepens, watching her face as she speaks to Veronica, and the male in me wants to jump over this railing and get between them. Something in her expression makes me pause, though, and I watch as she handles Veronica with a smirk on her face. Good job, babe. I smile as she flips around and flounces into the kitchen, ass swinging. Veronica glares after her, color rising on her cheeks.

I lean down to watch her walk into the kitchen. Between hockey and therapy, we’ve spent scant time together lately, but I want to change that.

I know she doesn’t know what to think of me yet, but I’m not giving up. There’s no quit in me. I’m a persistent, stubborn sonofabitch, and I’m going to be the last man standing until she’s mine and in my bed.

Reece comes up behind me and exhales.

I can feel his displeasure even though I’m not taking my gaze off her.

He leans over the rail with me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, brother.”

“So you’ve said a hundred times already.”

He sighs. “Look at her. She could be Willow’s sister, man, and you don’t get a redo with someone who’s dead.” He pauses. “She makes me uncomfortable.”

“I’m well aware that she looks like her. That isn’t what this is. If you got to know her like I do, you’d see what I mean.”

He holds his hands up. “Really? Are you listening to yourself? I know you’ve been having nightmares. I hear you. You’re willing to do anything to make those stop.”

“You don’t understand.” My hands tighten, and I look over at him. He’s been walking on eggshells with me since the night I kissed Sugar in front of everyone at the Tipsy Moose, and I’ve been too busy to address it. Frankly, I have too much on my plate right now to indulge his pettiness. Dr. Cole says I need to remove stressors from my life, and fuck if he isn’t one. Sugar isn’t.

His hand strokes his scruff. “Look, I’m just worried about you. You carry all that guilt…” His voice trails off and he lets out a long exhalation.

I do feel guilty. I’m the reason Willow is dead. I’m the reason—

Stop. I take a deep breath.

Part of me is tempted to tell him my relationship with Sugar is pretend, and though it might ease his mind, he’d tell Veronica, and she’d blab it everywhere, so I don’t.

“Just mind your own business, Reece.”

“I just care about you,” he says with a grimace, and then he’s walking past me and down the stairs.

I focus back on Sugar, who’s getting a drink from the bar. Eric runs up to her and twirls her around. I know he’s just clowning around, but, dude, stop. She’s different…

He says something to her, she turns and looks up, and we have one of our stare-offs. I watch her chest moving up and down in that tight dress, the way her lips part when she sees me.

I make my way down to her, pushing through the crowd, barely noticing anyone.

She’s waiting on me.

19

Sugar

“About time you got here,” he says in a gruff voice before cupping my face and kissing me.

It’s hard and sweeping and possessive.

I shouldn’t like it.

Fire and need all mixed together consume my body and I kiss him back, our mouths clinging. Each time we kiss, it’s as if it’s the first time, and I’m baffled by the intense desire that rises up inside me. Keeping his arm wrapped around my waist, he ends the kiss and stares down at me, his face shuttering, as if he doesn’t want me to know how it affected him.

I swallow, ignoring the stares from the players and girls in the kitchen. Some of the gazes are speculative, and a few are just downright jealous.

My voice is shaky. “Academy Award for your acting skills.”

“Not pretending.” His hand reaches out, toys with a piece of my hair, and he pauses, almost as if he might say something else but then changes his mind.

We’ve been here for a few minutes just talking about our week when a pretty girl comes up to us and throws her arms around Z. With honey-blonde hair and a perfect bow for a mouth, she’s dressed in a mini skirt and a flowy white shirt that’s nearly see-through. I wonder if she’s as cold as I am.

“Z! Happy Birthday!” she says, fluttering long black lashes up at him.

He arches a brow. “It’s Eric’s birthday.”

“Whatever. It’s the same.” She titters and rubs his arm. “We can celebrate everyone’s birthday any way you want.”

Z is unsmiling. “Have you met my girlfriend? This is Sugar.”

She swivels her head and gives me an envious glance, her gaze raking over my dress and sizing me up. “Hi, I’m Lola. Cute dress.”

I don’t even speak. I just glare down at her from my taller height and arch my brow with as much disdain as I can muster. Who the hell does she think she is? I don’t want her hands on him.

Her gaze sharpens. “Oh, hey, are you the girl who dated Bennett? The singer?” She gives me a knowing look and then smirks. “Lucky you. First him and now Z—you won the lottery.”

Z isn’t someone to win, and I cringe—not that she notices, already turning right back to him, her hand on his arm, talking about hockey and how great he is and how her brother wants to play for HU.

I want to pluck her eyeballs out, throw them on the ground, and stomp.

And that terrifies me.

My heart picks up the pace and I swallow down a wave of fear. Bennett had girls with starry eyes all over him, but this feeling…I might turn into a cavewoman if she doesn’t step off.

But he isn’t really yours, I remind myself.

Right.

She laughs up at him, her breasts straining against her shirt, and the room grows hot and oppressive. I try to get a read on him, to see if maybe he’s slept with her before, and the mere idea of it makes me queasy.

Fuck this.

“I need some air,” I murmur then brush past them toward the back door, but he catches up with me, holding my hand and leaving Lola mid-sentence with a frown on her face.

“Hey, don’t go. I need you next to me to help with this very thing.”

“Z, be honest—you can handle these girls. You don’t need me.”

“I do.”

His voice has softened, and I don’t think he means running girls off.

And that scares me too.

I unlace our hands. “I need a minute alone, okay?”

He frowns and exhales then watches me walk out the door. I suck in the cold air as I press hot hands to my cheeks.