3
FIRST TIMES SUCK
Carter
OOOH, THE HEAT ROLLING OFF my new favorite brunette when I sidle up next to her is sizzling.
She can’t not know, but she sure as shit does a good job of acting like she has no clue I’m standing here, pretending to be interested in the commercial on TV.
It’s one of those SPCA ads with Sarah McLachlan and a fuckton of cute puppies, and I can tell it’s killing her to keep watching. One look at her has me pinning her as the type that cries when she watches this.
I sink down to the stool beside her, my thigh brushing against hers when I do that man-spread thing my sister hates. Her gaze slowly falls to the connection, and I think it’s incredible she can blush more still, ruby-red heat spreading as she returns her gaze to the TV.
I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I’m in. I can stare at her all damn day.
I drop my elbow to the bar and my chin to my st, intent on studying her gorgeous face longer than I’ve ever studied anything.
Long, thick lashes frame pretty brown eyes, warm and wide, like a cup of espresso. A faint dusting of freckles spatter across her cheekbones and down her nose, just as dainty as the rest of her, and her bowed lips, painted cherry red and turned down around the edges, showcase the perfect scowl. It’s a shame; they’d
look incredible wrapped around my— “What?”
My brows quirk at her biting tone, the sharp slant of her eyes as she glares at me.
Her eyes fall shut, and she pushes a quiet sigh past her lips like she needs a second to get a handle on herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. Is there
something I can help you with?”
I lift my drink to my lips. “Nope.”
She twists in my direction, shoving my knees aside with her own. “No? You came over here to stare at me?”
“Pretty much.” I can’t be faulted for that, can I? Plus, she can’t seem to take her eyes o me either, letting them fall down my body, which my ego thoroughly enjoys. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Her eyes snap to mine, like she forgot I was a living, breathing person. “No thanks.” She gulps at her beer, tongue peeking out to ick over the drop of amber liquid that clings to her top lip. “Already got one.”
“Once you’re done, then.” Which’ll be in approximately ten seconds the way she’s been pounding that thing back.
“I can buy my own drinks,” she snaps before tacking on a quiet, “but thank you.” Her gaze drifts around the bar like I might disappear if she doesn’t look at me.
“I wasn’t insinuating that you couldn’t. I simply meant I’d like to buy you one and sit here next to you while you drink it.”
“Right, but you’re already doing that.” Her head tilts as she inspects me with such a healthy dose of suspicion I’m ready to admit to a crime I didn’t even
commit.
“How do you know Cara?”
“She’s my best friend,” she replies coolly, like she’d rather be anywhere else instead of sitting here talking to me.
Ah, the elusive bestie. Now I know why Emmett told me to stay away.
“Shame we haven’t met before now, huh? Cara’s been keeping you all to herself.” I hold up two ngers for the bartender, then point at my new friend’s glass. “What’s your name?” I know Cara told me, but I didn’t care then. I care now.
She hus as her new beer appears in front of her. I know she likes beer, so she must really not wanna give me the time of day. Only makes me want it more.
I’m still waiting for her name, so I sit silently, sipping on my beer, because I’m bound to fuck it up if I open my mouth right now. I’ve been told I lack a lter, something most ordinary people have. But I’m not ordinary; I’m Carter Beckett.
Another sigh, this one resigned. “Olivia.”
The name drifts softly across the space between us, and I hum quietly as I roll it around in my head, trying it out there rst.
“Nice to meet you, Olivia. You can thank me for that beer later if you’d like.”
I wink, and she fucking snorts. Worse, I fucking like it.
“I’d rather bury my entire face in a mountain of snow out front.” She lifts her glass. “I’m going to keep my drink, simply because I know better than to waste good beer, and you’re going to accept the verbal thanks I gave you a minute ago.”
Oooh, I think I like her. Fuck knows it’s been a while since I’ve had to work to get anyone into bed. I’d hate to let all my talents go to waste, and I can’t imagine someone more worthy of the eort than the saucy brunette who’s still scowling
at me.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
Olivia’s dark eyes scan my face over the rim of her glass. “Trust me, I know
exactly who you are.”
“And who’s that, sweetheart?”
“Carter Beckett.” I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the two names spoken so plainly, and I don’t know whether to pout or laugh at the way she twists back to the TV, as if she doesn’t give a single shit who I am. “Captain of the Vancouver Vipers. And you can take that ‘sweetheart’ and stu it up your ass.”
Beer slides down the wrong tube and I cough, slamming my st against my chest. “Not a hockey fan, huh?”
I see it right there in the corner of her mouth, the hint of a smile. “Love it.
Played for fteen years.”
My brows skyrocket. “No shit.” My thumb skates across my jaw at the idea of messing around with a girl who has a decent grasp on the concept of hockey, let alone one who played the game. “House league?”
She snorts again. It’s fucking adorable.
“All right. I’ll take that as a hell no.” My gaze skims her curves, the length of her toned calves, her strappy black heels. “You’re a tiny little thing. You must have gotten rocked out there.”
“Don’t you worry, Mr. Beckett. I can hold my own.”
“Spent some time in the penalty box, did you?”
“Almost as much time as you do,” she replies, those chocolate eyes gleaming as they ick to the split in my lip from the ght I got into at last night’s game.
My grin cracks my face in two. Bullshit she’s not at least a little bit interested in me.
I draw closer, her magnetism irresistible. “My condo’s right down the street.”
“How very convenient for you.”
“It’s only a ten-minute walk.”
Olivia lifts her beer to those kissable lips. “So close.”
“I can get us an Uber if you prefer.”
She chokes out a laugh, slapping a hand over her mouth to stop the onslaught of beer rushing out of it. I’m riveted, watching as she dabs at the corner of her mouth and wipes the bar around her. The amusement dancing in her eyes has me feeling pretty condent about the direction we’re heading tonight—right down the street to my condo.
“Oh, Mr. Beckett. You are as naïve as you are pretty.” She gives my chest a patronizing pat. “The very last place I’m going is home with you.”
“Why?” My face dips closer, and I notice the exact moment her breath catches in her throat. Her tongue peeks out, wetting her bottom lip, spurring on my next whisper. “I wanna fuck you silly. Maybe put you in the penalty box.”
Olivia’s face breaks with a snicker, and it’s as cute as the snort. “You can’t seriously tell me you pick up women with lines like that?”
“No, of course not.”
“Thought so.”
I grin. “Normally my name and pretty face are more than enough.”
She rolls her eyes, and I snag a curl, twisting that lock of dark brown, the little bit of caramel winding through it, and twirl it around my nger. She’s got pretty hair. And pretty eyes. Pretty lips. Pretty thighs. Fuck, she’s just pretty.
With a gentle tug, I urge her forward, and smile at the way she comes, like she doesn’t realize she’s giving in to the pull.
“We can be there in eight if you’re game for a piggyback ride,” I whisper.
“Wrap those pretty little legs around my waist before I wrap them around my face.”
Heat radiates o her, her lips parting on a staggered inhale before she suddenly shifts back. Clearing her throat, she pulls out her phone and starts ipping aimlessly through Instagram, like she’s bored out of her fucking mind.
“What a terrible idea that sounds like.”
“I beg to dier.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she meets my stare. “You’re right. My feet are sore from all this dancing. The piggyback sounds wonderful.” She smiles when I chuckle, and then tacks on in a more sincere tone, “I don’t do one-night
stands, Carter.”
Well, shit.
I skim my lower lip with my teeth, eyeing the way her ngers drum her glass, the way she peeks at me every few seconds to see if I’m still watching her, the ush that creeps into her cheeks when she realizes I am. Her body language, the nerves that make her dget under the heat of my stare, it doesn’t match her snarky comebacks, and somehow it only makes her more intriguing.
“All right,” I say, before I’ve even really agreed to it in my head. Fuck it, why the hell not? If there’s a woman I’d ever want to see again, it might be Olivia.
“Why stop at just one night? I’ve got a feeling you’re the type of song I’d play on repeat.” I might even consider waiving my no-sleepover rule. We can go all day long tomorrow before I send her on her way. I slap a palm to the wood and jerk my head in the direction of the door. “Let’s go, beautiful.”
Her jaw unhinges. “You’re joking.”
“I’ll even take you for breakfast in the morning.” I ash her what I’ve been told is a particularly charming grin.
She mutters something that sounds a lot like cocky fucking asshole in the hands she drags over her face. “You seem to be misunderstanding me.” She drains the remainder of her beer before hopping o her stool, stepping in close,
getting right up in my face. She smells good, like freshly baked banana bread. Is that weird? All I know is I want to taste her.
“I have absolutely no desire,” she starts slowly, enunciating every word, for my benet I’d guess, “to be another notch in your bedpost. I’m sure this whole messy hair, pretty green eyes, crooked smile bullshit you’ve got going on melts many panties, but not mine.”
I dip my head, smiling. “So you admit it. You think I’m pretty.”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “There’s not a bit of me that’s surprised that that’s your takeaway.” She gestures over her shoulder. “You can have any girl you want. Go nd someone else to take for breakfast.”
Well, that won’t do. The breakfast oer was exclusive to her.
“But I want you,” I whine playfully, catching her hand in mine. It’s soft and warm, tiny, mine swallowing hers right up. “I can’t take my eyes o you, you’re hockey-literate, you’ve told me to go fuck myself in at least three roundabout ways, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this attracted to someone.”
She steps closer, and my pulse spikes. Her ngertips dance up my arm, brush across my jaw. Her face lifts at the same time mine drops, and the re in her gaze holds all the promise of one hell of an unforgettable night.
“Has anyone ever been able to tell you no?” she asks on a whisper.
My chest pus with pride. “Never.”
She grins, and Christ, it’s a glorious sight. “Well, I guess there’s a rst time for everything.”
My forehead crumples as she steps out of reach. “What?”
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” she calls over her shoulder before she squeezes through the crowd, disappearing, and Jesus Christ, I’m actually gonna have to go home and do what she told me to: fuck myself.
Well, fuck. I don’t like this.
