Page 10 of The Kiss Connection

He turns his head, glancing at me. “Excuse me?” His jaw is taut, his nostrils flare, and I can’t help but notice the darkness in his eyes.

“You heard me. You got us kicked out of the hockey game.” I’m still wearing his stupid jersey. I swim in the damn thing. I bought a jersey two sizes too big because they were out of my size and I thought that at least wearing it over my clothes it would look okay.

News flash, it looks ridiculous.

“I’m sure you did that yourselves.” His gaze moves over my clothes. It’s not like he can see much other than the jersey and maybe a peek at my black leggings tucked underneath.

“We didn’t do anything!” Rowan chimes from behind me. “We were cheering for your stupid team when one of your goons told us to leave.”

His gaze tightens, and he glances behind him toward the guys. “Like I said, I’m sure whatever it is that you did got you kicked out.”

The bartender hands him a bucket of beers, and he takes it, carrying it back to his reserved seating.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, climbing off my barstool. I’m not sure where I’m heading, but I’m pissed that he’s to blame for getting us kicked out. We paid for those seats, a pretty penny, and he’s pretending he had nothing to do with it.

“What’s that?” he grinds between clenched teeth. He puts the bucket of beers down and turns around, closing the distance between us.

We’re just a few feet from his reserved table, and I’m fairly confident most of his teammates are eavesdropping on our conversation, but I don’t care.

They can listen in all they want and hear what a jerk he is!

“You heard me. I called you an asshole.” I stare up at him. He’s well over six-feet and I’m five-one. I should be intimidated by his size, but I’m not. It helps that we’re in a public place, and I’m aware that he’s a public figure. He can’t so much as touch me without destroying his reputation.

He leans down, his face in mine. “Do you want to say that again?”

I laugh up at him. “Sure. I called you an ASSHOLE!” I shout. “In case you can’t hear me up there.”

He grabs my arm, dragging me away from his buddies. They’re already talking smack, mostly about him getting manhandled, and now he’s doing the manhandling.

“Get off me!” I yank my arm free and elbow him in the ribs in the process.

He doesn’t even flinch, though I imagine it had to hurt a little. He releases his grip, letting me free as he keeps me in the back hallway near the bathroom, away from his friends. Rowan has an eye on me from the barstool, and I nod, silently letting her know I’m fine.

“I’m the asshole?” he asks, his face once again in mine, his neck leaning down to reach me. He’s close enough to kiss me, but I’d never do that with him. His breath smells like mint. His shampoo almond and oranges as he’s clearly showered since playing the sport.

He tugs on my jersey, the length down to my knees, embarrassingly big, and I bite down on my lip, humiliated that I’m wearing his jersey.

“Yes,” I say, my voice softer, mellower. I’m still fuming, but not nearly as much as before. Somehow, he’s disarmed me, and I’m not sure how and when it happened. He’s definitely inside my personal space, a little too close, close enough the smell of him lingers in my nose. I could kiss him if I lean in just a fraction of an inch, but I’d never do that with him.

Myles nods slowly, gestures with his finger for me to turn around and walk away.

“Why?” I grumble up at him, this time the action a bit more forced. The anger is dissipating, but I refuse to let him see that side of me. He doesn’t get to see it; he’s the reason we were kicked out of the arena.

“Just do it, Pint Size.”

I scoff at his nickname for me. “I’m not pint size.”

Myles quirks a faint smile down at me. “Yeah, you are. Go back to your friend. Stop trying to cause fights in bars. It doesn’t suit you.”

“You don’t know what suits me,” I growl up at him and stand on my tiptoes to try to reach his height. It doesn’t work and I trip on my feet, the slight heel I’m wearing not helping.

Myles grabs me by the hips, catching me, steadying me before I can fall and make an ass out of myself.

The moment I’m steady, he releases his hands, swiftly, like he didn’t just touch me. “Stop causing fights,” he grumbles and brushes past me, leaving me standing alone in the hallway while he heads back to his buddies.

I stand there for a good thirty seconds, alone, before I finally clear the cobwebs from my head and grab the seat at the bar with Rowan.

“Tell me what just happened.” Rowan’s eyes are wide, hanging onto my every word.