Page 5 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

A girl I vaguely recognize from the beach today stares up at me. “There’s no fire,” she says, as though I’m the asshole in this scenario.

“And it’s a good thing, too, or we’d all be burnt little marshmallows right now,” I snap back.

Eight sets of eyes glare at me, and once again, I want to point out that they are the ones who’ve decided to turn a freaking stairway into a game room. Instead, I sigh and try to play nice with others.

It’s not something I’ve ever done well, but there’s a first time for everything, right?

“Can you make some room so I can get through, please?” I ask.

They grumble, but they all shift enough for me to play a game of hopscotch through their little camp.

My prize is another set of stairs. Finally, I make it to the exit, and I have a momentary vision of pushing on the door handle only to find it locked.

Thankfully, though, it’s wide open and I walk right through.

I’m not sure why someone left it open, but?—

“Coming through!”

Plastering myself against the brick wall, I narrowly avoid being plowed over by a parade of frat boys carrying cases of beer.

What. The. Fuck.

It should not be this hard to leave my room and grab a bite to eat.

And this is a dry campus. That was expressly stated in the agreement we all signed .

It’s not that I’m against drinking. I can hold my own, thankyouverymuch. I’m not even against bending the rules for a little fun. But these rules aren’t bent. They’re twisted up like tiny little pretzels and smashed to a powdery dust.

My annoyance propels me down the path toward the little strip of shops and cafes where surely I can grab a slice of pizza or a burger.

Scanning the buildings, it looks like my options are limited.

Option number one is Manny’s Pizza and Beer.

They get points for being straightforward.

I like it when a restaurant’s name is also its menu.

What you see is what you get. But it’s way too crowded, so I opt for the spot next door.

It’s just called Smitty’s, but at this point, I can’t be picky.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a dimly lit bar wasn’t it. Bright lights are a headache trigger for me, though, so Smitty’s walnut paneling and burned out lightbulbs already hold a place in my heart. My heart’s a small, dark, abandoned little cave, but that’s not important.

What is important is that it smells like deep fried heaven in here. I take a seat at the bar and a big biker dude wipes the space in front of me before tossing a coaster down.

“What can I get you?”

“Water, please. Two glasses.”

Biker Dude blinks at me before walking off, presumably to get my water.

“Two glasses of water? You got a hot date joining you?”

“There is no way the universe hates me this much,” I say out loud. “Not after the floor sex people and the gamers and the frat brigade.”

“Floor sex?” Pete says, his brow quirking up. And dammit, he should look stupid. Idiotic. Ridiculous. Instead, he just looks sexy. And what is he doing in my bar? Granted, he got here first since his plate is empty, and I literally just found the place, but still.

If I weren’t hungry enough to gnaw on my own arm, and if I had a modicum of the patience required to make it through the maze of debauchery and back to my room, I’d walk right out of here.

“Wow. You must be pretty hungry then,” he says, making me realize that my internal tirade was, well, external.

Biker Dude sets two large glasses of water in front of me, and then adds a third, this one just full of ice.

Bless this man.

“Alright. What’ll it be?” Biker Dude asks.

Shit. I haven’t had time to look at the menu. I’m not even sure there is a menu.

“She’ll have a large order of fries, cheese on the side.”

Biker Dude, whose real name needs to be Smitty, nods and heads back to the kitchen while I turn my gaze on Pete. “Did you seriously just order for me?”

He shrugs and I swear to god there’s not one shred of audacity left in this world. He’s hoarding every bit that ever existed.

“Yeah, but you’ll thank me when your order gets here.”

I start to shake my head, but it hurts too much. “I won’t,” I tell him. “I can’t imagine a scenario where I will ever thank you again. You got one the other day and that was under duress. But it’s all you’re ever getting from me.”

Pete taps his meaty paw on his thick chest. “Then I’ll treasure it always.”

I’m sure he’s got a sarcastic grin on his stupidly handsome face, but all my attention is on his hands.

They are giant. Beefy. I’ve never seen ham hocks, but the next time someone says ham hocks, I will think of Pete’s hands.

And now that I’m thinking about it, ham hocks is the weirdest phrase ever. I can’t suppress a giggle.

“Something funny?” he asks.

“You have the hands of a giant,” I say, the words spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Pete spreads his arms out and laughs. “I’m basically a giant. So…the hands fit the rest of me.”

Before I can think about what other parts of him are likely gigantic, too, Biker Dude drops off a basket of fries and a little tub of cheese sauce.

Pete’s grin is wide, and that pisses me off. “I’m still mad at you, just so we’re clear,” I tell him, picking up a piping hot fry and dipping it into the cup of cheesy goodness.

“When have you ever not been mad at me?” he asks.

“Fair point,” I concede, popping the fry into my mouth. There’s a burst of salty goodness, followed by a burning sensation that sears the roof of my mouth. Immediately, I start to fan myself, muttering, “Hot, hot,” as if recognizing that I’ve been burned will lessen the pain.

Pete, ever-fucking-helpful, hands me a glass of water. I take it, but only because I need it, and it’s the least he can do after ordering me blistering hot food.

And, yes, I know I sound ridiculous.

“You might want to wait until your food cools down a little,” he says, showing off that damn smile again.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I take another sip of water and wait for the feeling to return to the nerve-endings in my mouth. You know, the ones that weren’t singed off.

There’s a little plastic utensil in my basket that resembles a pitchfork. How convenient. I use it to push my fries around a bit, letting some steam escape, and then I point it at Pete’s face and give it a little wave.

The man just laughs. Is he a masochist or something?

After stirring my cheese sauce with the pitchfork, I decide the fries might be safe to eat now, so I stab one—with way too much force—before dunking it and taking a tentative bite.

Oh. My. God.

This fry is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth. I mean, ever. A look of ecstasy washes over my face and I don’t even attempt to hide it.

“Told you,” my nemesis says smugly.

I scoff. “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Wow. First I’m a giant and now I’m a broken clock. You better be careful, Claire, or I might start to think you don’t hate me as much as you say you do.”

“I can’t stand you,” I assure him. “Sometimes I find you mildly tolerable, but that’s only because everyone else I’ve encountered today has been a total shithead.” I munch on my fries as he reasons out what I’m saying.

“Got it,” he nods, running one of those aforementioned paws through his beard. “You still hate me, you just hate other people more.”

“Exactly,” I say, pointing a fry at him. “Don’t go thinking I’m going soft on you. I had a shitty day. And a shitty headache. And a shitty roommate.”

“Well, that sucks. If you want, I could meet up with you right after breakfast tomorrow so you can make up the lab that Kinsey screwed up today.”

“I already made it up,” I say, piercing another fry with my new favorite utensil.

“That’s why I missed dinner, which only made my headache worse.

Kinsey’s disappearing act just started the downward spiral of my day.

There were many highlights along the way, including being woken up by the soothing tones of heavy metal, and nearly getting run over by the beer brigade on my quest for food.

And now, I’m having dinner with you. It’s the cherry on top of the shit sundae that is today. ”

He winces. “A lesser man would be offended, you know.”

“As you should be,” I return.

He leans in close and for half a second, my brain forgets that we hate him.

The only data coming through the headquarters of my mind is that he smells good and that his thick fingers are unquestionably bigger than my last boyfriend’s dick.

Well, calling him a boyfriend is generous.

We didn’t last long, and it wasn’t only because he was clueless about what to do with the pencil between his legs.

Pete swipes a fry from my basket and takes a bite. I’m outraged. I’m also fascinated by how plump and pillow-y soft his lips are, but mostly, I’m outraged.

He doesn’t even apologize. He just tips his head toward the empty basket in front of him, as though the fries’ deliciousness excuses his pilfering. I roll my eyes.

“What?” he asks as he grabs another. “This is my tax. Afterall, if I hadn’t ordered for you, you might have asked for the pretzel bites.”

“You wouldn’t have stolen those?”

“Hell, no,” he says, shuddering. “You could crack a tooth on those things. Smitty is barely competent in the kitchen, but the man can deep fry a potato and heat up cheese sauce.”

I reach for another fry at the same time Pete does, causing my fingers to brush against his.

Our hands still for a moment and I absorb the shock of electricity that jolts through me at our contact.

Pulling my hand back, I’m tempted to grab the pitchfork just to keep my distance. Or, you know, to stab him.

“Stop eating my food,” I say, my annoyance fueled not only by the fact that he’s eating my dinner, but more so by the zing that ran through my body when our hands touched for a second .

Good. Lord. If a thrill like that can come from an accidental touch, I can’t help imagining what the man could do if he put his mind to it.

“Don’t,” I warn as he aims one of his killer smiles in my direction.

“Don’t what?” he asks, his tone innocent.

I take a sip of water as if that will ward off the headache that simply will not go away.

Closing my eyes for a minute, I let the cold water roll over my tongue and down my throat, hoping it can douse the fire threatening to escape.

But it’s all too much. Every stressor has taken its toll.

Every irritation has piled up. The stupid smile on Pete’s face is the very last straw.

Does he really think this is a game? That my ire toward him is all in good fun?

God, the arrogance on this man fucking blows me away.

After pushing my half-eaten basket of fries toward him, I reach for my bag and toss some cash on the bar, then level Pete Santos with a glare I’ve saved just for him.

“You think because you’re charming that you can get away with shit.

And ok, you have. Almost everyone at Bainbridge adores you.

And what’s not to love? You’re sweet and funny and smart.

You’ve got that whole teddy bear thing going on.

One look at you and most people can’t decide if they want to cuddle you or let you fuck their brains out.

I can only assume you specialize in both.

But so what? You think you’re the only hot guy on campus?

Newsflash: you’re not.”

“You think I’m hot?” he asks, his eyes going wide.

“I’m just stating a fact. Objectively, you’re hot,” I tell him, practically screaming now.

“But don’t think that because you’re this perfect combination of good guy and sexy lumberjack I’m going to fall at your feet like everyone else does.

If that’s what you’re waiting for, Pete, get comfy. You’ll be waiting a long damn time. ”

“You hate me.”

I sigh. “That’s been established.”

“But you think I’m hot?” he asks, and I’m beginning to wonder how the hell he ever scored high enough to win one of the two full-ride academic scholarships the university offers every year.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I advise. “You can be hot and still be a dick. It happens all the time. Like, constantly.”

“Constantly?” he asks, as though he’s having trouble following this conversation.

“Yes. There are hot dicks everywhere, Pete. I’m surrounded by hot dicks.”

He blinks at me, and I notice, not for the first time, the little flecks of gold and amber in his warm brown eyes. “You’re surrounded by hot dicks?”

“And you’re lucky enough to be one of them,” I say, with no trace of humor. “And sadly, you’re the hottest and the biggest.”