Hooked (Boston Terriers Hockey #4) - Jacob Chance Page 0,1

door?” Maddie questions.

“No. What about him?”

“I’ll just say he’s very attractive.” Maddie smirks at me from her float.

“I’ll have to pay better attention, I guess.”

“For sure. Maybe you should go over and introduce yourself,” she suggests.

“Hmm, I could do that, but what if he’s married? Or his girlfriend answers the door?”

“You can ask for a cup of sugar or a couple of eggs.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’s not too obvious.”

“It’s so obvious, it’ll seem legit,” Maddie assures me.

“We’ll see when the time comes. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be outside. Then I can just say ‘hey’ in passing.”

“You haven’t gone on a date for a while,” Maddie bluntly states.

“Ouch. Thanks for pointing out how lame my love life is. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“I am your best friend, which is why I’m pointing it out. Are you still hung up on Connor?” Maddie asks.

“No way.” My reply is vehement. “We’ve been over for a year plus. I barely remember specifics of our time together.”

Maddie grimaces. “Jeez, that’s harsh.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth. Connor was sweet and unremarkable in almost every way.” Just like every other guy I’ve gone out with for the past four years.

“He was kind of adorable, though,” Maddie defends him. With his golden curls and large blue eyes, he always looked angelic to me. Unfortunately, I’m still hung up on Marshall—the same asshole who’s had my attention since he toyed with my affections one drunken night. And I’m sure he doesn’t even remember what happened. Kind of pathetic on my part, but falling for the bad boy is like a rite of passage every teenage girl goes through. The problem is, I’m no longer a teenager.

“I didn’t say Connor wasn’t adorable. He’ll be the perfect boyfriend for someone else, just not me,” I answer Maddie.

After what happened with Marshall that long-ago night, as brief as our interaction was, I decided to only date nice guys.

Guys who would treat me well and who would be faithful.

Guys who were the polar opposite of Marshall in every way.

And in that regard, I’ve achieved success. I’ve never been treated poorly or been cheated on, and I’ve even had great sex. I’ve also had a couple of healthy relationships that lasted a decent amount of time.

But what I’ve never had with anyone besides Marshall is that exciting buzz of attraction.

You know the one that makes your nerve endings come alive whenever they’re near?

That one that makes your knees weaken when they look your way.

And makes speaking to him awkward because you’re afraid you’ll say the wrong thing.

Or worse, you won’t be able to speak at all.

He’s the only guy I’ve ever been so anxious around. It took me a long time to force myself to stop caring what he thought and push past my nervousness. I’m finally at the point where I’m comfortable interacting with him, and I relish any opportunity where I can give him shit about anything. It’s always fun to put that asshole in his place.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how my pulse has a tendency to speed up when he’s near. Whenever my eyes land on him, a hum of appreciation runs through me, and it’s taken a lot of practice to master not letting it show. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I still harbor feelings for him. I’ve never told Maddie about that night, and I probably never will.

We stay on the beach until the tide rolls in and we’re forced to leave. Stepping on the back deck of our temporary abode, I shake the sand out of my towel before hanging it over the railing. Setting my beach bag on a chair, I take my damp hair from the ponytail, shaking the salt-coated length free. God, I need a shower and to get out of this sandy bikini.

“Hey, neighbor,” a deep voice calls out. I spin around to find a tall, blond god standing on the deck at the house next door.

“Hi.” I smile, my eyes doing a quick scan of his golden, muscular torso. “Are you the neighborhood welcoming committee?”

“Today, I am.” He winks, walking to the railing closest to me. I do the same until we’re separated by only about fifteen feet.

“I’m Clover. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Kent. It’s very nice meeting you, Clover. Where are you from?” He focuses on my face, and I’m impressed with his ability to avoid checking out my boobs.

My fingers grip the white composite railing. “Boston. My