Unfreakingbelievable.
Ducking around a corner, I press my back to the wall and suck one shaky breath after another until the spots behind my eyes finally clear, along with any wayward thoughts about a third Slayers hockey player needing a bed in the ER.
I can’t believe it. After all these years.
Quinn O’Brian.
Two feet in front of me. Giving me that same smile. The one that put my belly into free fall the first time I saw it. Left me breathless. And then less than a day later, left me humiliated. Devastated. Working up fantasies about the wrath I’d rain down on him if I ever saw him again.
So much for that badassery. My knees barely held me when I looked up to find those stupid sea-green eyes twinkling back at me like some Disney hero come to life.
Stupid eyes.
Stupid shoulders and muscles-everywhere body.
Stupid sandy blond hair standing up like some foolish girl just had her hands in it for the last hour.
And that introduction.
Blowing out a breath, I shake my head.
He didn’t even recognize me. Though why I ever thought he might is beyond me. Six years later and I’m still reading more into that night than there ever was. More into those soul-deep stares and slow touches. More into those tender words that turned out to be total lies.