Blocked (Boston Terriers Hockey #3) - Jacob Chance Page 0,63

did?

Fuck me. My thoughts are beginning to sound like a cheesy eighties rock ballad.

Turning around, I set my wine glass down and lean my forearms on the bar while I stare out at the beautiful northern Virginia sunset. Painting the sky with vivid slashes of orange, pink, and gold, it’s breathtaking, making it difficult to feel down when there’s so much beauty surrounding me. And the gentle whisper of the evening breeze wafting over my bare shoulders feels like a reassuring caress.

Relax. Loosen up. That’s what I imagine it’s saying to me.

I don’t want to be a killjoy on this happy occasion. It’s not that I’m jealous when people find their happily ever after, like my friend Jane did. She and her new husband are perfect for each other. The two of them belong together and I want her to have nothing but the best. I just wish I had some viable dating options on the horizon, so I could feel better about my own romantic future. I’d even be satisfied if something would happen to give me hope that I won’t be alone forever.

Send me a sign, universe. I’m ready.

A tan, masculine forearm lands on the bar next to mine.

Damn that was quick. Is this my sign?

My eyes wander along the muscular, veined length, stopping when they reach the neatly rolled up shirtsleeves. Turning my head, my gaze continues the trek up his crisp, white, fitted shirt. Snug around his flexed bicep, I wonder if he has any tattoos under that material?

A broad shoulder caps it off so nicely, I’m afraid to look any higher. Whoever this is standing next to me, there’s no way his face can possibly measure up to the rest of him. Why ruin perfection?

Curiosity wins out, though.

Oh well, here goes nothing.

His thick neck is tanned a golden brown and his sculpted lips are twisted into a derisive smirk telling me he’s aware of my thorough perusal. The higher my eyes climb, the faster my heart gallops.

Oh shit.

I know those lips.

I recognize that sexy smirk.

Please be wrong.

Sweeping my gaze up, I connect with roguish hazel orbs. Fuck me. Of all times for me to be right.

Clancy Wilde, my best friend’s cousin, is next to me in the flesh… in his very sexy, two percent body fat flesh.

I let out a gasp before I can hold the sound in.

He chuckles deeply, making my stomach toss turbulently, like rough water on the high seas.

“Something wrong, Tenley?” he questions knowingly. Fuck me. Unfortunately, he’s aware I’ve always harbored a huge crush on him.

Licking my dry lips, I pray my voice still works. “Not a thing.” I aim a tight, close-lipped smile his way and pluck my wine glass from the bar. Tipping it back, I drink down the remainder in one long gulp. One hand raises signaling for the bartender before the other can place the empty glass down.

He sniggers, as if he knows the reason for my discomfort, and my need for more wine. But is it really a secret? He makes me feel off balance and flushed, unlike my usual confident self.

What girl wouldn’t be uncomfortable in this situation?

It feels so grade school that he knows I think he’s ridiculously hot. But I’m pretty sure every girl in the free world feels that way about him.

“Wine?” he arches a dark blond brow and tips his head toward my glass.

“What about it?”

“I just never imagined you as a wine drinker.”

Turning to face him, I lean my arm on the bar and prop my chin on my palm. “What have you imagined me drinking then?” I can’t wait to hear this one.

“Something with a little more kick, a little more fire. It needs to have a hint of sour and plenty of sweet. Something that mimics your personality.”

He thinks I’m fiery and sweet?

“I’m your cousin’s best friend. You live in Boston and I’m in Washington D.C. We’ve probably seen each other a total of ten times over the years. How strange is it that you think of me at all?”

“Ten times? You’ve been counting, Tenley?”

Fucker.

“You wish,” I sass back. I take another sip of my wine, cooling down the heat that being in his company always brings.

Clancy Wilde is my most-embarrassing secret. A frequent topic in my high school journal, I recorded all the cringe worthy facts about him with my favorite purple pen in looping handwriting and i’s dotted with hearts.

Thank God he’s never read the entries or knows of their existence. I’ve no doubt he’d love