The guy hasn’t said a single word yet, and already my skin is buzzing with awareness. How is it possible that his steady gaze sliding over my body feels more like a physical caress than anything else?
It doesn’t make the least bit of sense.
I’m not into his brand of handsome.
He’s way too attractive for his own good.
Even worse than that?
He knows it.
And uses it as a weapon of female destruction.
I’m well acquainted with his type.
And I’m not interested.
If only it were possible to stomp out the arousal that has settled at the bottom of my belly like an unmovable stone.
Ever since stepping foot on campus in August, I’ve been inundated with the stories that circulate regarding Colby McNichols. At this point, they’re more like urban legends or Western University folklore. Tales that will be passed down for generations to come. Even if I hadn’t heard about him, it would be impossible not to catch sight of all the girls that cling to the guy like baby rhesus monkeys.
And not one at a time, either.
These chicks don’t care if they need to share him just to get a small taste.
Can you even imagine?
Ummm….no thanks.
In fact, I just threw up in my mouth.
Gross.
On both accounts.
Mr. Too Hot to Handle needs to move it along, because I am definitely not a puck bunny who’ll fall onto her back and spread her legs wide. Or a groupie that’ll hang on his every word, hoping to be chosen for the night. This guy eats girls up like sugary cereal in the morning before moving onto the next thirty minutes later.
I’m probably giving him way too much credit.
More like fifteen.
I bet his starfish impression is dead on.
Sadly, they love him for it.
I just can’t.
“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he says, deep voice smooth and brimming with confidence as he interrupts my conversation with Carina.
I got to know the pretty blonde dancer during the fall semester and really clicked with her. She seems more like a girl’s girl.
Which is refreshing.
And I enjoy her friends just as much. Juliette, Stella, Viola, and Fallyn are all great girls who have welcomed me into their tight-knit group with open arms. This is the first time in almost a decade that I can actually say I have a handful of genuine female friendships. They have no idea just how much that means to me.
Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll get the hint and exit stage left.
A second or two ticks by before he turns up the wattage of his smile. It makes the dimples in his cheeks pop and flash. It takes effort to stomp out the zip of electricity attempting to sizzle its way through my veins.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
Sigh.
So much for him picking up what I’m laying down.
When it becomes obvious that he isn’t going to get lost until I double down on my disinterest, I flick a steely look in his direction.
One that will hopefully shrivel his balls.
“I’m not interested. So, feel free to move it along.”
Dismissing him, I resume my convo with Carina.
That hard-edged tone is usually enough to cause the most obnoxious of men to deflate like a popped balloon and slink away with their tails tucked firmly between their legs.
I’ve spent years honing it so that it’s razor sharp.
And just as deadly.
I’ve handled men twice my age who are execs in the biz and think that makes me fair game. So, putting this college hockey playing hottie in his place should be a piece of cake.
I wince at the unconscious descriptor.
His brows pinch as he blinks in confusion. “Excuse me?”
I’m forced to turn more fully in his direction before annunciating carefully as if talking to a two-year-old, “I said that I wasn’t interested. Hockey players aren’t my thing. Now, if you’ll—”
The muscles in his face soften as he flashes another dazzling smile that’s even more swoonworthy than the first before giving me an—are you cray-cray look. Confidence drips from every word. “Sweetheart, I’m everybody’s thing.”
Thrown off by his response, my eyes widen as a burst of laughter escapes from me. This guy really is full of himself.
I mean…sure, I’d heard he was, but seeing it in action firsthand is another matter entirely. All I can say is that it’ll be an absolute pleasure to disabuse him of the notion that he can have any girl he wants simply by flashing his dimples. As I reach out and pat his clean-shaven cheek, another surge of desire flares to life before I douse it like an out-of-control kitchen fire.
“I’m sure that you are, pretty boy. But not mine.”
Genuine interest ignites in his eyes as he invades my personal space. It’s tempting to retreat a step, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“Here’s an idea—how about you let me buy you a shot and we’ll see just how wrong you are when I roll out of your bed in the morning?”
Irritation ignites inside me.
This guy has some serious nerve.
I’m barely aware that Fallyn’s jaw has become unhinged as her gaze bounces between the two of us.
Refusing to back down, I shake my head.
Now it’s a matter of principle.
“No thanks.” I point toward the crowded table in the back that buzzes with puck bunnies hoping to get lucky and slant him a cool look. “You seem to have your hands full. My advice is to stick with the groupies. You wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like me.”
A roguish grin slides across his face that makes him look even hotter. “Is that so?”
I lift my chin a notch. “Yup. Accept defeat gracefully while you still have the chance.”
“Oh, I think we’re way past that now. Don’t you, firecracker?”
“Firecracker?” A gurgle of laughter escapes from me as my eyes narrow. “Do the cutesy names actually work for you? Is it so you don’t have to remember someone’s name in the morning?”
His blue eyes flash like lightning in a bottle.
It’s almost mesmerizing.
Before the situation can escalate any further, Fallyn picks up her loaded tray and turns to Colby. “Hey, look—I have your shots. Why don’t you follow me to your table?”
He continues to pin me in place with the heat of his gaze. I can’t tell if he’s ignoring Fallyn or if his focus is so great that her voice isn’t able to penetrate it.
It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone stare at me so intently. Even with the dim lighting in the bar, I have to force myself not to squirm beneath his scrutiny. It’s the first time since stepping foot on campus that I’ve felt unnerved. I shake away the panic that floods my system and remind myself that I couldn’t look more different.
My hair is no longer lavender in hue, and it’s shoulder length. I’ve changed it back to its original rich, caramel color and chopped off about ten inches.
After all these months of living in plain sight, I’ve gradually lowered my guard.
My hand rises automatically before I realize that there isn’t a ball cap to tug over the upper portion of my face. Air gets clogged in my throat as I steel myself for what will happen next.
Just as the atmosphere turns oppressive and I’m seconds away from bolting out the back door, Fallyn taps him on the shoulder to reclaim his attention. The fear holding me paralyzed dissolves when he glances at the waitress.
“Here’s the shots you ordered,” Fallyn presses. “Ready to head back?”
Colby’s gaze returns to me. “Yup. Let’s go.”
With one final look that skewers me to the core, he swings away, moving through the thick press of bodies with the ease of a king walking among his loyal subjects. People scurry out of his way.
Just as a relieved breath leaks from my lungs, he twists back around and recaptures my gaze.
“This isn’t over, firecracker.”
Even though I’m rattled, I force a smile. “Actually, it is. You’ve just been hit in the head with a hockey puck too many times to realize it.” With a tip of my beer bottle, I turn and dismiss him.
Taunting this guy is a terrible idea and yet, I can’t seem to help myself.
It’s almost a surprise when he whips around and follows Fallyn instead of making his way back to me.
The only thing I can say with absolute certainty after that explosive encounter is that avoiding Colby McNichols for the foreseeable future is now at the top of my to-do list.
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