Blocked (Boston Terriers Hockey #3) - Jacob Chance Page 0,64

to see his name at the top of my ‘wish list’ of guys I’d like to be with. It’s a short list, but he’s still in the top spot.

“Say I’m going to go along with your theory about my drink, what would you suggest?” Gripping the stem, I hold out my empty glass.

His fingers close around the rim, sliding it across the bar while his eyes study me carefully. Raking his teeth over his bottom lip, the action calls my attention to their full shape. He probably did that on purpose.

Returning my focus upward, I catch his amused expression. Yep. He did. The bastard.

“Devil’s Advocate.”

“Is that the name of the drink, or are you playing one?”

He smiles. “That’s the name of the drink. Although, that’s also one of my favorite parts to play.”

Okay, I’ll go along with your game. “What’s in it?”

“Fireball whiskey, spiced rum, apple schnapps, and lemon-lime soda.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds horrible.”

“I figured you wouldn’t try it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “It’s just that this drink is probably too much for you to handle.”

I rise to my full height and narrow my eyes at him. “I can handle more than you could imagine, buddy.”

He grins and looks at me appraisingly. “Can you now? I’d like to see exactly how much you can handle.”

Wait a minute.

Is he still talking about this drink? Or is he flirting with me?

My stomach tumbles madly at the thought of him being interested in me.

Turning, I raise my hand signaling the bartender once more. He ambles over, but before I can order, Clancy beats me to it.

“Can I get a Devil’s Advocate for her and a Jameson neat for me?”

“Sure thing,” he replies, before moving toward the clean glasses.

“Have you ever tried this drink?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I have, actually. One of my cousins went to bartending school and I helped him out by trying all the drinks he made.”

“I’m sure that was a real hardship for you.” I roll my eyes. What young guy wouldn’t jump at the opportunity for free booze?

“You can’t imagine.” He shakes his head. “But that’s the kind of guy I am. I’ll jump right in there and take the bull by the horns when no one else wants to.” His tone is teasing, but he probably thinks he’s all that.

And he is.

Tall and thick-chested with shoulder length blond hair, he can get any girl he wants and probably has had most of them.

He’s captain of the hockey team at Boston University and, from what I’ve heard, an animal on the ice. And if I had to guess, I’d say between the sheets too.

They don’t call him ‘Wilde Man’ for nothing.

I’ve heard too much about his love ‘em and leave ‘em ways from Sophie. I know she wanted me informed so I would keep my distance.

What she doesn’t understand is being aware of his hook ups doesn’t turn me off like you’d think it would. It makes me assume he must be really good between the sheets from all that practice.

Clancy is the worst kind of player there is because he’s also a nice guy. And it would be all too easy to fall for him without meaning to.

He leaves a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes. Even I’m susceptible to his handsome face and charming personality.

And let’s not forget that hard body.

The bartender returns, placing my drink on a napkin in front of me. Eyeing the beverage skeptically, I can’t help but wonder what it will taste like.

Golden in color, it looks harmless enough, but Clancy rattled off the liquor content, so I know it’s going to pack a punch.

His Jameson gets set on the bar and he immediately raises the glass to his lips for a sip. “Come on. Don’t make me drink alone.” He tips his chin toward my drink. “Try it. I’m interested in hearing what you think.”

Uncrossing my arms, I hesitantly close my fingers around the tumbler. It’s cold against my skin.

“Go on. It’s not going to bite you. At least not right away.” He laughs.

It’s his amusement at my expense that goads me into raising the glass to my lips and knocking it back in one continuous gulp. I don’t stop until every drop is gone. Raising my head, my empty hand lands on my tingling lips.

I try not to cringe from the sweet aftertaste in my mouth, followed by a fiery burn down my esophagus and into my stomach. It feels