“Excuse me,” a female voice says, and I turn to see a brunette in a tight dress smiling at me. “You’re Tate Barnes, right? From the Raptors?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so. I’m Sarah.” She extends a hand, and I shake it because I’m not an asshole. “I’ve been watching you play for years. You’re amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I buy you a drink? I’d love to talk hockey with you.” Her lips lift into a seductive smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zane’s jaw tighten. His knuckles are white around his beer bottle.
“That’s nice of you, but I’m good,” I tell Sarah, holding up my full beer.
“Oh, come on,” she says, moving closer. Her hand lands on my forearm, long fingernails trailing along my skin. “One drink. I promise we’ll have fun talking.”
I really should make up an excuse and go back to the guys but I’m enjoying Zane’s reaction too much. His eyes are dark, focused on Sarah’s hand on my arm like he wants to break her fingers.
“Maybe later,” I tell her.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says with a wink, then disappears back into the crowd, shaking her ass in the dress that barely covers it.
The silence between Zane and me stretches taut like a rubber band ready to snap.
“Fan of yours?” he asks, annoyance dripping from his words.
“Apparently.”
“She seems friendly.”
“Yeah.” I take a swig from the beer bottle.
“The kind of friendly that involves her hand on your arm,” he says.
There’s an edge to his voice now, barely controlled jealousy that makes something hot and reckless unwind in my chest.
“You got a problem with that?” I ask.
“Why would I have a problem with it?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
We’re playing with fire, having this conversation in public where anyone could overhear. But I can’t seem to stop myself, can’t resist pushing at his buttons. I want to hit them all, to drive him absolutely crazy.
“I need some air,” I say, putting my nearly full beer on the bar.
I head toward the back of the bar where the restrooms are. I need a few seconds to think.
The bathroom door swings shut behind me, muffling the noise from the bar. It’s a single-stall room with a lock. I reach for it but the door opens again before I get a chance to lock it.
Zane steps inside, eyes blazing, and clicks the lock into place.
“What the fuck was that?” he demands.
“What was what?”
“Don’t play dumb. The flirting, the hand on your arm, the way you looked at me like you were trying to make me jealous.”
“Were you? Jealous?”
