Sugar Rush (Offensive Line #1) by Tracey Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

is closed right now,” I tell him, ignoring his question. “How did you get in?”
    “For real?”
    “Because you’re famous ?” I ask dryly.
    “It has its perks. You should try it.” He steps around me, his hand outstretched. “You must be Rona.”
    Rona is nicer than I am. Most people are. She smiles at him pleasantly, shaking his hand and managing to look only mildly star struck. “Yeah. I’m— yeah. Nice to meet you.”
    “Colt,” he supplies unnecessarily, at least having the decency to pretend we don’t all know his name and nearly every contour of his naked body. “Good to meet you. I love the store. Your cake was the best part of the party yesterday.”
    Rona flushes pink all the way to the roots of her hair. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”
    The makeup artist offers her hand next. “Kendra,” she purrs.
    He nods, taking her hand only briefly.
    He introduces himself to the producer next. Sandra. That’s her name. He’s charming when he greets her, effortlessly dropping the sexy act in favor of the boy next door show. She absolutely eats it up.
    Under thirty seconds in the room and Colt has every girl sitting pretty in the palm of his hand.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask bluntly.
    Rona looks at me with big eyes, silently begging me to chill.
    I ignore her. I can’t chill. This guy is an electrical wire to my body, destroying my regular functions. I’m still stunned by the fact that he’s here.
    “I, uh,” he laughs at himself softly, dipping his chin. The gesture is so adorable I can taste the estrogen spike in the room. “I’m a little addicted to those Oreos you made. The chocolate coated ones. I smuggled out a few handfuls from the party yesterday but I ate the last one this morning and I can’t get them out of my head.”
    “We don’t keep those in stock. We made them for the party. Sorry,” I apologize, the sentiment feeling obligatory.
    I’m not sorry. I’m confused. And torn. And turned on? And mad, but at what or who I don’t know. Me? Him? Harrison Ford?
    Be real; Crystal Skull was shit. We’re all a little mad about it. All day, every day.
    The problem is that the longer I look at him, the longer he stands there looking at me , the more convinced I am that the cookies aren’t all he came here for. It’s me. He wanted to see me, and as the realization hits home, a very girlish, giddy part of me wants to rise up to meet him, elated and flattered to find him here looking for me.
    The rest of me, though, it sees what’s happening. It can feel the storm coming. It can read the danger written in the perfect plains of his face.
    His smiles are clouds on my horizon.
    His voice thunder rumbling in the distance.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    COLT
     
     
    She’s annoyed. Or hungry. Or hangry. Horny? It’s hard to tell.
    I don’t know what kind of greeting I expected to get ambushing her like this, but when I see her standing there with her eyes like a half-cocked revolver directed right at me, I think this is it. This is what I wanted. Her frost. Her cold shoulder. It’s hotter than the open flame in the makeup chick’s eyes. This look from Lilly is a myriad of things that clash and war with each other across her face – shock, excitement, irritation, joy – and it’s so genuine I can hardly stand it.
    Lilly watches me carefully. Cautiously. Like she’s afraid of what I’ll do. Like I’m a lion in her home and she’s worried I’ll go bat shit and murder everyone. Or worse, that I’ll curl up on the couch and make myself at home.
    “Did I come at a bad time?” I ask with a knowing grin.
    She narrows her eyes at me. “You knew this was happening today.”
    “Would you believe me if I said I forgot?”
    “Sure.”
    I point at her mildly. “Sarcasm. I definitely hear it this time.”
    “Really?”
    “There it is again.” I look over the kitchen absently. “What are you making for the segment? Oreos by any chance?”
    “We could,” Rona offers affably. “You could