“No. Don't worry about me. I'm a warrior.” He waved his hand dismissively as we took our seats at the end of the bar. “Did you enjoy the game at least?”
“Totally. You were a stud out there in the third period, Beau. Of course, as you could probably tell from my texts, I was completely freaked out by seeing you get smashed into the glass.Ugh, just thinking about it turns my stomach.”
“Funny, 'cause I would've thought that'd make you happy,” Beau said wryly. “I seem to recall seeing the bird just before the lights went out.”
“Yeah … sorry about the middle finger.” I could feel my cheeks burning bright-red. “But why were you looking at my rack during a hockey game, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be focused on the action?”
Beau gave a cocky half-smile. “I thought I wassupposedto look at your rack?”
“I don't know what you mean,” I lied. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and averted my eyes. Beau took advantage of the opportunity once more. His hungry gaze on my cleavage gave me a wild rush …
“You're a bad actress.”
I played up my bad acting. “Hm, I just don't know what you mean.”
Beau played along. “The all-black outfit. The see-through blouse. The fishnet leggings.” He reached for my thigh and hooked his finger through the large hole in my jeans. Suggestively, he fingered the leggings that peeked through the frayed denim. The tease of his thick finger against my bare thigh stole my breath and inspired a flash of steamy memories from last night … but I tried not to let it show too much on my face.
Beau's lip curled with a knowing smirk. “You dressed like this one night after I told you that I thought you were hot as a goth. I like it.”
“Fine. Caught red-handed,” I admitted.
We paused to put in our orders. The bartender turned away, and then it was just Beau and I again. His starving eyes were all over me.
“So what do you wanna do after our date?” he asked, his voice gritty and lusty.
“Beau!”
“I told you if I scored two we were doing something after.”
“Yeah, and I knowexactly what you want to do after, too.”
The smile on his face didn't deny the accusation.
“But, Beau, I have to confess to something awful.”
His eyes lit up—he apparently liked the prospect of me confessing to terrible things. “Oh yeah? I'm listening.”
“You're probably going to hate me.” I gritted my teeth. “So I told Piper I wore this outfit because I wanted to distract you while you played. Iwantedto see you get hurt on the ice. And the fact that it actuallyhappened that way? I feel so rotten to the core. I'msosorry.”
After a pause, Beau gave a hearty laugh.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Well, for one, I like how twisted you think. That's somethingI'ddo—if I were a vengeful girl with fantastic tits, anyway.”
I rolled my eyes at his brashness … but I still gave a small laugh.
“Two, it's not your fault. Yeah, I saw you in the crowd for a split-second. But I've been fucking with Leroux all night, and I had my back turned to the play. He had it out for me, and I gave him a golden opportunity to get even.” Beau gave a shrug. “I know the hit looked bad, but jeez. I didn't almost die, and I definitely didn't almost die because of you, so you don't have to feel guilty about it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Really? You're sure?”
“Really. In fact, don't worry, I'll get hit worse than that a few more times this year alone.”
I reeled back. The reality of caring for a professional athlete, and having to worry about him getting seriously injured on a routine basis, struck me like a sharp smack to the cheek.
Beau raised an eyebrow. “But uh,whydid you want me to get killed?”
I paused.Should we really get into this? Here and now?
