This is a terrible idea. It’s going to end badly. So badly.
I should leave right now, show the Valentine’s Day card to Liz, let her handle it. She’s good at confrontation. To be honest, she’s good at everything I’m terrible at.
But then I remember what was written on that card—the words seared into my brain—and I swallow hard.
I have no choice.
I’ve positioned myself in a recessed section of the hallway where I can see the players leaving but they can’t see me unless they turn and look directly this way. The perfect spot for stalking. Or ambushing.Holy shit, I’m really doing this.
Laughter and deep voices drift toward me, full of the easy confidence the team always carries. I press my spine into the cold plaster and peer around the edge of the wall.
And there he is.
Devlin walks slightly apart from the others, his gym bag slung over one massive shoulder. His black hair is still damp from the shower, falling across his forehead in a way that makes my stomach clench.
He’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, dark jeans that hang low on his hips.
Even exhausted from practice, he moves with that predatory grace that makes him look dangerous.
Beautiful and dangerous.
He’s almost to the exit when I pull back into the shadows, my heart hammering. I’ll wait thirty seconds, then secretly follow him. Catch him when he’s alone. Simple.
I count to thirty, take a deep breath, and turn the corner to execute my brilliant plan.
I slam directly into Devlin’s chest.
A startled cry escapes me before I can stop it. Strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying me, and I look up into those dark, unreadable eyes.
Several hockey players turn to look at us.Great. Perfect. Exactly what I needed. Shit, I’m so stupid.
“Hey.” My voice comes out too high, too nervous. I force a smile. “I need to explain everything. We need to resolve this situation.”
“Situation?” Devlin’s voice is cold, flat.
The other players are still watching. I can feel their eyes on us, curious, maybe amused. My skin crawls with discomfort.
Devlin notices. Of course he does.
“Are you afraid?” His lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile. “That’s good. Fear is useful.”
There’s something predatory in the way he’s looking at me, in the way he’s positioned his body to block me from the hallway.
But there’s something else too—something almost feverish in his eyes, like it’s taking effort to maintain this cold exterior. Like he’s restraining himself.
That small observation gives me courage.
“I know you’ve decided I’m a jerk who decided to joke with you,” I say, lifting my chin. “And I know it’ll be difficult to convince you otherwise. But that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t write any Valentine’s Day cards and didn’t plan any jokes. I was busy with other things.”
“What things?” His eyebrow arches. “Oh, yes. Saving animals with charity fundraisers.”
“Yes.” I finally meet his gaze directly. “And I care about animals in general. You know, without any charity parties, and while no one is watching. But I didn’t come here to discuss that.”
Devlin leans his elbow against the wall, caging me in slightly. “What is it, then? Tell me.”
“Something strange is happening.” I try to keep my voice steady. “You need to understand that it’s very suspicious—”
“I understand perfectly well.”
