Page 18 of The Kiss Connection

My stomach grumbles. Glancing across the street, I see there’s a small local coffee shop. I hurry across the road, making sure to get inside before the rain gets any worse. A few more drops cover my arms and dampen my hair, but I’m inside before the deluge pours down.

Sitting by the window, Myles has a coffee in hand, and he grabs his phone, quickly turning it on and opening a web browser to look busy.

It’s obvious he saw me come out of the restaurant. I just pray he didn’t notice when I walked inside.

Strolling up to the counter, I order a coffee and muffin. It’s not enough for dinner, but it’ll suffice until the rain lets up and I can walk back to the subway and head home.

Grabbing my coffee and muffin, I opt for a seat as far from Myles as possible, but there aren’t that many tables to choose from. With the rain coming down in droves, more people have wandered inside, taking up residence for the time being.

Which leaves me grabbing a seat near the window, two tables away from Myles.

It’s too close.

Could this night get any worse? I should just hurry down to the subway, get a little wet but save my pride.

His gaze is on me while I slip into the seat, sipping my coffee, as I stare out the window. I put my phone on the table, face up, just in case Conrad texts me with some lame excuse for running late.

Although now, it’s thirty-minutes late.

Five minutes, mostly excusable. Fifteen minutes, if he has a valid reason and informs me. Thirty minutes, he’d better have been saving someone who slipped and fell on the subway tracks. I’m not sure I’d even believe that story, unless there’s video proof, and nowadays, everything is recorded. Especially when you’re a famous hockey player.

Conrad is somewhat famous. He’s a rookie, same as Myles, at least according to Rowan. I don’t follow much hockey, and all my information is from my bestie. I’m assuming her information is accurate. I didn’t bother to Google him.

Myles stands and I keep my gaze between the window and my coffee. But I feel his presence as he stalks closer. He’s just waiting to say something rude; I can feel it as he hovers.

“Date stand you up?” Myles asks a little too happily. It’s that smug grin that has my stomach plummeting.

My gaze slowly travels up toward his. “What makes you think I had a date?”

I won’t give him the satisfaction of answering his question. He stands across from me, the only thing between us being the small table.

He leans into my personal space, palms flat on the woodgrain, tilting his head, a wry smile on his face. “Conrad tells me everything. He’s too good for you. Especially a slut who likes to shove her tongue down random strangers’ throats…”

I grab my muffin and throw it at him. It hits his chest, and he catches it before it has time to land on the table or the floor. With the fakest smile, he unwraps the paper lining from around the bottom of the muffin and takes a bite of the blueberry treat.

“You’re such an asshole,” I grumble at him.

“Good muffin,” he says between bites, all the while smirking.

I want to wipe that grin right off his face. Snarling, I stand, leaning forward, my hands planted on the table, glaring at him. “I ought to get a restraining order against you.”

He takes a step back, not the least bit intimidated by my stance. “For what? You’re the one assaulting me with baked goods.” Myles shrugs, letting what I just said roll right off him. He takes another bite of the muffin, and my stomach grumbles loudly in protest. “I’d offer you a bite,” he says, and then shoves the rest of the muffin into his mouth. The rest of whatever he says is incomprehensible.

Rolling my eyes, I grab my phone, shoving it into my purse, and reach for my coffee.

My phone vibrates in my purse, and I glance briefly to see that it’s a message from Conrad. I can’t read the contents of the message, not now, not in front of Myles.

The rain hasn’t let up, but I’d rather get soaked than spend another minute conversing with the devil himself.

I’m growing to despise Myles Dax. I didn’t particularly like him before, for getting us kicked out of the arena, but my hatred of him is growing immensely.

I shouldn’t have let his older brother convince me to kiss him. The Dax brothers are practically barbarians. No wonder they’re decent players on the ice, it’s because they’re both savages.

Myles hates me. Perfect, because I hate him even more.

I grumble and glance out once more at the rain. I hurry for the door, hoping he’ll remain standing at my table and give me some much-needed distance.

No such luck.