He doesn't know the coworker is him.
I'm safe.
I'm totally, completely safe.
Except…
Except nowIknow it's him.
And I still have to work with him for the rest of December.
And every time I look at him, I'm going to think about that picture. His torso. The way I imagined his face while I—
Nope. Not going there. Not thinking about that.
I splash cold water on my face, take several deep breaths, and give myself the most unconvincing pep talk in history.
You're fine. This is fine. Just… avoid him and you're golden.
My reflection looks skeptical.
I dry my face, square my shoulders, and head back out into the bar.
Devon's still there, now helping Kayla arrange bottles behind the counter. He's laughing at something she said, head thrown back, and the sound hits me right in the chest.
Two weeks.
I just have to survive two more weeks.
I grab the abandoned Christmas lights off the floor—might as well have something to do with my hands—and station myself as far from Devon as physically possible while still being in the same room.
Becker appears at my elbow. "So? Reindeer? Door or bar?"
"What?" I blink at him. "Oh. Uh. Bar. Definitely bar."
"Ha!" Petrov pumps his fist. "I told you! American marketing is garbage!"
"That's not what he—you know what, fine. Bar it is."
They drag the inflatable reindeer toward the bar, arguing the whole way.
I focus very intently on the Christmas lights.
I do not look at Devon.
And I definitely don't think about the fact that somewhere on his phone, there's a picture of my stomach covered in cum.
CHAPTER 15
ACE
THE PUCK'S COMING straight at me and my brain decides now is the perfect time to remember the exact curve of Devon's smile.
I swing my stick. Miss. The puck sails past me, hits the boards, and ricochets back toward center ice where Petrov scoops it up with an ease that's frankly insulting.
"Ace!" Coach Martin's voice booms across the rink. "You planning on joining us today or should I mark you absent?"
I'd answer, but I'm too busy skating in the wrong direction. Toward my own goal.
