Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(8)

“Oh, you know each other?” Ollie asks, clearly having no idea who the hell I am.

“Everyone knows who Silas Taters is,” Lanky says.

Clearly, not everyone.

“It’s . . . it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lanky says, holding his hand out.

Out of respect for my image, I take it and offer him a solid shake. “Thanks, pleasure is mine, man.”

I feel Ollie stiffen against me, probably wondering what the hell is going on and how her ex-boyfriend knows who I am, so I decide to help her out a bit.

“Ollie and I don’t talk about hockey much . . .” I leave it at that, letting them fill in the blank.

Cranky’s eyes narrow. “Wait, if you’re dating a hockey player, then why are you so up in arms about your assignment?”

Hmm, wonder what the assignment is. Also, really curious why Ollie and Cranky are nemeses. Who threw the first punch? Who wronged who? Was it because the ex-boyfriend was stolen? Not to be a dick, but he doesn’t seem like much of a prize to me.

“Uh, because he just said we don’t talk about hockey much,” Ollie says, and I’m somewhat impressed with her ability to think on her feet. “I clearly don’t want to bother him about it.”

I bring her in tighter and lightly stroke her stomach with my thumb, catching Lanky’s eyes falling to the movement. Huh, the guy has some jealousy showing, so hopefully, this helps her out.

And keeping with the shy guy mentality, I quietly say, “You can bother me, babe.”

She turns a few inches and cups my cheek while saying, “Thank you.” And then, once again, her soft, delicious lips touch mine, and she lightly kisses me. It’s short, but goddamn, is it sweet. I could easily kiss this girl more. She wouldn’t even have to ask me to pretend.

“Well,” the girl huffs. “We should get going. We have plans.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lanky says, his eyes never averting from Ollie’s and my connection.

“Good luck with your assignment. I think you’ll need it,” Cranky says right before she turns Lanky around and pushes him toward the bar’s exit.

Once they’re out of sight, Ollie turns toward me, gratefulness all over her face. And hell . . . she’s beautiful, but I only get a quick glance before she’s pulling me into a tight hug, her tits pressing into my chest. “Oh my God, thank you so much. You completely saved me.”

Not sure what to do, I return the three-second embrace.

When she pulls away, I get a good look at her.

Petite, toned body. Large chest for her size, beautiful long brown hair that seems to be naturally wavy, green, almond-shaped eyes, and plump lips. She’s an absolute smoke show.

“Uh, yeah, glad I could be of service.”

“What the hell is going on?” the friend says as he steps forward. “What was that, Ollie?”

Biting the corner of her lip, looking coy as shit, she says, “I took a chance, and by the grace of good luck, it worked out for me.”

“So you don’t know each other?” the guy asks.

Ollie shakes her head. “No.”

“Never seen her before,” I add.

“Well, hell, you convinced me. I thought you were hiding something from me, Ollie.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “Nope, just a random guy.”

“Hell,” the guy says while pulling on his hair.

Yeah, hell is right.

I could have convinced myself we were together just from that kiss and the way she cuddled into me. I hate to admit it, but it felt good for a second to have someone need me again. To have someone touch me, cuddle into me, treat me as theirs.

Turning back toward me, Ollie says, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your drink. Thank you so much again. I can’t tell you the kind of favor you just did for me. I truly appreciate it.” And with that, she takes her friend by the arm and starts to pull away.

I’m not sure what comes over me.

Maybe it’s the kiss.

Maybe it’s the thought of having to see Sarah around my sacred space.

Or maybe it’s the Scotch.

Before I can stop myself, I say, “You owe me.”

She pauses and looks over her shoulder. “What?”

I grip my glass and lift it to my mouth. From over the rim, I say, “You owe me.” I take a sip. “I did you a favor, so I think you should do me one.” I kick out the barstool next to me and nod toward it. “Take a seat.”

Her eyes flit from the seat and then back up to me. “If you think I’m going to sleep with you, you better think again.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” I say, even though the prospect of it is appealing. Wouldn’t mind tasting those lips again.

Her friend leans down, and even though it seems like he tries to keep his comment quiet, I can still hear him. “I think you should at least listen to him. He did just let you sexually assault him with your mouth.”

“Hey, I gave him three seconds to say no. There was no sexual assault. That kiss was consensual . . . right?” she asks me on a wince.

I nod. “It was consensual.”

“See. Consensual. Everything is on the up and up.” She gestures toward me. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some drinking to do tonight, and I’m sure you have the goal at hand. Have a good night.”