Bates Finnegan makes me feel uneasy, like he’s slithering beneath my skin every time he looks at me. His gaze today felt like it had the last time we locked eyes, at the team dinner this past summer. But today … it was the same yet different. Heavier. Hungrier, like a wild animal that hasn’t eaten in days.
I knew that seeing him again would likely stir up the excitement I’d felt the first time I met him, when he tried to flirt with me and ask me out. But even if he were to ask me again today, my answer would be no, regardless of my secret masked admirer.
Although I’m nervous that I scared him off after our first meet because he’s been damn near radio silent for the last week. I feel like I’m going mad. I came to the rink to get a distraction—something I didn’t want from Bates.
I’m certainly not going to get involved with one of mydad’s players. It would only end messily, and I refuse to even entertain the idea. My dad has worked so hard for his career, and I won’t play a role in jeopardizing or complicating it. The team he has now is damn near unbeatable. They’re the best chance he’s ever had to win the cup. I want nothing more than to watch that dream of his come true.
Awareness skates across the tops of my shoulders and the back of my neck—a feeling I’ve become far too familiar with as of late. A feeling of being watched.
After lunch with my dad in his office at the rink, I’m heading back to my car, and I can’t shake the sensation that I’m being followed. I step through the door that leads into the parking garage, wondering if whoever it is will continue as it clicks shut.
Is it my masked man? Did he follow me here? Has he been lurking in the shadows since then, waiting for me to be alone?
My heart rate kicks up when I think of seeing him again. He disappeared so fast out of that closet that I couldn’t even process it before he was already gone. And his silence since then has only sent me down a spiral of what-ifs and worry.
The door clicks shut again, but when my head whips around, I see no one. No movements, nothing.
“Hello?” I call out behind me as I continue to walk through the nearly empty parking garage toward my car, clutching Freddie a little tighter in my arms. “Is anyone there?”
I mentally slap myself for the cliché questions. Have Ilearned nothing from all the movies I’ve seen? You are never supposed to ask this.
“Never mind!” I call out, trying to correct my mistake.
My steps halt while my eyes slam shut with self-loathing. I’m such an idiot.
I’m pretty sure if this were a scary movie, I’d be the dumb female character they kill off in the first act.
Creepy, silent parking garage? Check.
Cute heeled boots that are nearly impossible to run in? Check.
Asking stupid questions and giving away my exact location? Check.
My only saving grace is that I have Freddie. Maybe my cute pup will deter the killer. Let’s hope the director of my horror movie is an animal lover.
Unless the killer just wants Freddie for himself. Oh God, in that scenario, I’m the only thing in his way.
Stop.
I physically lift my hand up, halting my racing mind. I chuckle at myself in disbelief, opening my eyes, and coming face-to-face with Bates Finnegan.
I jump out of my skin, and shriek, “Fuck!”
Bates stands five feet from me, staring down at me with a curious and humorous gaze. He snickers. “Relax. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
His pressed lips and slight smirk do little to hide that scaring me was exactly what he wanted.
“Right,” I murmur sarcastically, easing up on the death grip on Freddie, who seems excited to see Bates.
He wiggles in my arms, trying to get free, but I hold him in place, shushing him to settle down.
A shiver runs down my back, but I don’t miss the warmth burning into my cheeks beneath his stare. He has no shame in the way he looks at me, not bothering to hide his amusement.
Bates’s deep blue gaze makes me shift in place. While he stares unabashedly, I try to refrain from doing the same. But it’s hard when he looks likethat.
He towers over me. He’s not just tall; he’smassive. He’s got to be well over six feet tall. Light to medium brown hair.
In the thin, long-sleeved Sinners shirt he has on, I can see the way his body ripples beneath the material, his upper arms filling the sleeves, even more so when he crosses them over his firm, bulging chest.
