“Please don’t break my fiancé before the wedding,” Jessie says to Luc, and everyone laughs loudly at that.
As we all move on to talk about other things, I turn and see Callie whispering something in Avery’s ear. He smiles smugly and laughs lightly. His arm is around the back of her chair. I tighten the grip on my beer and force myself to turn away.
She doesn’t do repeats. She’s made that her very public life motto. She won’t sleep with him again because she broke that motto for me and me only…Right?
Chapter 44
Callie
This quirky little pub that the players like to frequent is having a country night, and trying to teach Avery Westwood how to line dance is amusing and adorable all at the same time. I know he has rhythm—I danced my ass off with him in Atlantic City this summer—but country is clearly not his thing. He keeps tripping over his own feet and can’t figure out right from left. We turn with the group doing the line dance on the floor with us, but Avery double-steps to his right instead of his left and bumps me hard, almost knocking me over. I laugh.
“Aw, fuck this,” he says in a bit of a growl as he grabs me and starts swinging me around, holding my body to his and dancinghisway.
I burst out laughing. “I guess maybe two-stepping is genetic and clearly you weren’t born with the gene!”
“But I was born with many other abilities and skills,” he murmurs in my ear, still holding my body to his as he guides me around a small corner of the dance floor.
“Yes, you were,” I confirm, because it’s true. He’d been great in bed.
“I’d like to show you my skills again, Callie,” he says softly and lets his lips graze my cheek.
“Umm…” I can’t help but murmur, but find myself shaking my head without hesitation. “Sorry, Avery. I’m a one-night-stand type of girl. And the key to one-night stands is they’re once.”
“Really?” he questions, not buying it. His hands around my waist slip a little to rest at the top of my ass. “Can’t you make an exception?”
“I can and I have…” I reply. “But that never ends well.”
“That’s too bad…”
I look over his bulky shoulder and see Devin standing by our table. Luc is sitting across from him talking to him but Devin’s eyes are on me. He’s holding his beer glass so tightly I can see that his knuckles are white.
It makes me angry, but not as angry as it should. The anger is being diluted by desire. Once again, I want him so badly I can barely stand it—even though he’s clearly itching to get me away from Avery and any other guy I might possibly want to fuck. That, in the past, would make a guy so unattractive to me, but not with Devin.
The song ends and Avery and I break apart. I take his hand and lead him back to the table. Devin’s narrowed eyes are burning a hole in me but I refuse to even look at him.
“I think we need some shots!” I announce and head to the bar.
I’m a foot from the bar when his hand grabs my arm. I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. I can tell by the way he feels against my skin. He pulls me off toward the corner of the bar.
“I slept with Avery, remember?” I snap before he can open his mouth. “I’ve slept with a lot of guys. If that bothers you, then fuck you.”
He doesn’t even seem bothered by my words. That perturbs me. He should be furious. He should be repulsed. I yank my arm out of his grip.
“And he’s not the only NHL player,” I announce belligerently, shoving my hair off my shoulders and crossing my arms over my tight, lacy purple top. “When I was living in Los Angeles, I ran into a bunch of Milwaukee Comets at a bar who were in town for a game and I slept with Jude Braddock.”
“Braddock? That dude’s a total tool.” He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t look angry, just unimpressed with my selection. I glare at him. He stares back with serious eyes. His full lips are straight, not smiling but not frowning, like he doesn’t know how to react yet. God, I love those lips.
“Are you going to sleep with Westwood again tonight?” he asks point-blank.
“That’s none of your business,” I snap back, instead of telling him the truth, which is no, I have absolutely no intention of touching Avery ever again. All I want is you, Devin Garrison.
“Don’t.”
I sigh and uncross my arms.
“I’m not going to, but it has nothing to do with you,” I explain swiftly before he can look triumphant. “It’s who I am. I don’t do relationships. Even casual ones. I get what I want and I move on.”
“Not always,” he counters and takes a step toward me.
