Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(7)

Oh, and if you didn’t catch his text, yeah, my ex, the girl who destroyed me, is working for the Agitators in the marketing department. Hence the heavy glass of Scotch in my hand.

Posey: Whoa, whoa . . . whoa. pinches brow How? How the fuck?

Levi Posey—teddy bear on the inside, absolute bruiser on the outside—acts like the innocent one of the group with his love for bologna sandwiches and his penchant for helping old ladies walk across the streets of Vancouver when, in reality, he’s the biggest ladies’ man of them all.

Pacey: Do you think she used your name to get the job?

Hornsby: She better not have. Who can we talk to about this? How can we get her fired?

Posey: You can’t get someone fired because of a personal relationship.

Hornsby: You sure as hell can if this new hire is going to fuck with Taters’s head. You know it is. No offense, bro.

Silas: None taken because you’re fucking right.

Holmes: Just catching up. Sarah is working for the Agitators? Dude, are you okay?

Halsey Holmes, besides me, is the quickest skates out on the ice. A former twin, he lost his brother in a horrible car accident. Halsey turtled in on himself and focused on hockey and only hockey. That was until this past summer when we discovered that Halsey has a huge fucking crush on Penny’s best friend, Blakely. The only problem is Blakely is massively in love with her boyfriend. Yeah, he’s in deep.

Silas: Yeah, not doing great. I mean, what the actual fuck? Why would she do this?

Hornsby: Isn’t it obvious? To fuck with you, man.

Pacey: I hate to admit it, but I’m with Hornsby.

Hornsby: So how can we take her down?

Posey: Once again, you can’t take her down. Her personal life isn’t the Agitators concern.

Holmes: I’m with Posey. There isn’t much we can do.

Hornsby: What the fuck? What happened to band of brothers?

Silas: I appreciate your willingness to charge after her with a bayonet at the end of your hockey stick, but bro, they’re right. Nothing can be done.

I set my phone down and bring my glass to my lips. Absolutely nothing can be done other than hope and pray I don’t have to interact with her. And how the fuck did she get the job? As far as I know, she has little to no job experience. Are the Agitators just hiring anyone now? I want to see her credentials.

After taking a sip, I set it down on the bar in front of me as a hand presses to my back. I turn just in time for a woman to speak closely to my face as if we’ve known each other for years and we’re in cahoots.

“My name is Ollie. I’m in a really tough spot, and I’m so sorry, but I’m about to kiss you because I need to save face in front of my ex-boyfriend, who is now dating my nemesis. If you don’t stop me in three seconds, I’m going in.” She says this at such a rapid rate that I almost don’t understand what she’s saying.

As I turn to face her, I catch a glimpse of thick wavy brown hair and a flash of red lipstick, and then her lips are on mine, her hand shifting to the back of my head.

Whoa, what the hell is happening?

I’m caught off guard, but it’s only a moment because once her soft, plush lips move along mine, I turn toward her and smooth my hand around her narrow waist as my lips move along hers.

And for a brief second, I’m stunned, brought to another world where Sarah doesn’t exist and my worries are nowhere to be found. Instead, I’m lost in the most perfect pair of lips I’ve ever tasted.

My hand grows tighter on her waist as her fingers toy with my blond locks. She steps in closer, her mouth parting just slightly. I part mine as well while her other hand falls to my chest. Hell, this woman tastes good, like tequila and promises.

Just as I reach to pull her in even closer, she breaks away but keeps her face close as she whispers, “Please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second. Also, you’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

That makes me smirk. “Damn, and I didn’t even have to do anything to earn the title.” I catch her glance over her shoulder, so I quickly say, “I’m Silas.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says before turning around and sinking into me, my open stance on the barstool welcoming her as I slip my arm around her waist and pull her in even closer. Not sure why I’m going with her demands. Maybe I’m a bit drunk from the kiss . . . and the Scotch, but I hold still, ready for what’s to come.

Three people approach us.

One is a woman sporting a shocked, disapproving glare—must be one of the offenders.

Behind her is a lanky man whose brow is pinched together so tightly that I bet it could hold a quarter if I slipped it in.

And the other man just keeps blinking . . . rapidly, as if he can’t quite comprehend what he’s witnessing.

From a guess, I think Cranky and Lanky are the people Ollie—that’s her name, right?—is trying to save face with, and the blinker has to be a friend.

“See, told you he was over here,” Ollie says as she places her hand on mine. “He’s just shy, is all.”

Ehh, shy? Not really, but I’ll go with it.

I nod at them, not saying anything while still acknowledging their presence.

“Well, I, uh . . . I don’t know what to say,” the girl says.

“You’re . . . you’re dating Silas Taters?” Lanky asks. Honestly, I’m shocked it took this long for the guy to say something.