Good Boy (WAGs #1)(26)

When I check his face again, he’s watching me lick my lips, his lust-filled gaze aiming like a laser pointer at me.

“I gotta go,” I stammer.

“Aw, but I just got here.”

All the more reason to go.

I turn to my brother. “I have class at nine tomorrow. I should really get a good night’s sleep, you know, so I’m bright and bushy-tailed for my first day of school.” I give a half-hearted fist pump. “Yay school!”

Jamie stands up. “You’re going to do great, Jessie.” He slings an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the streetcar stop.”

Blake is on his feet in a heartbeat. “No need. I can drive you.”

No way. “No way.” Shit, did I say that out loud? At Blake’s hurt expression, and Jamie and Wes’s confused ones, I hasten to add, “I’ll be fine taking public transit. I don’t want to put you out.”

The seductive look he gives me says I can put him anywhere I want, any time, any place. Luckily, Jamie and Wes don’t see it, because they’re too busy looking at me. “I’d feel better if Blake drove you back to the dorm,” Jamie admits. “You’re not used to the transit system here yet, and it’s late.”

Blake walks over and claps Jamie’s back. “No worries, J-Bomb. I’ll make sure J-Babe gets home safe. I’ll even walk her all the way to her door.” He brightens. “We can do a buddy-system thing, holding hands and all that so we don’t get separated.”

I swallow a scream. “Don’t even think about holding my hand,” I grumble. “But fine, if you’re serious, then let’s go.”

He makes a grand gesture toward the door. “After you, milady.”





10 A Fox Not a Dog





Blake


“Cheezus, it’s just a ride home, Old Yeller. I’m not taking you out back to shoot you.”

Jess glares at me from the passenger seat. “Did you just call me old?”

Grinning, I start the engine and reverse out of the underground parking spot. “So it’s okay to call you a dog, but it’s not cool if I say you’re old?”

“Because I know I’m not a dog,” she says haughtily. She winks at me. “I’m a fox.”

Hell yeah, she is. It was damn impossible to keep my tongue inside my mouth when I walked into Wesmie’s place and saw Jess Canning standing there in her tight jeans and low-cut tank. Her body is out of this fucking world.

“But you think you’re old?” I prompt.

“I am old.” Her expression darkens again, and I kind of wish I hadn’t revisited the age comment. “I’m a twenty-six-year-old freshman—I feel ancient.”

“Aw, honey, you’re not ancient.” I give her a very slow, very pointed onceover, making sure to stare extra long at the delectable tits that are practically pouring out of her top. “You’re the hottest freshman I know.”

Instead of thanking me, she shifts her gaze out the window. I can see the pout of her lips and the nervous set of her profile. “This car is such a gas guzzler,” she mutters. “Do you really need to drive this macho-mobile?”

Seriously? At six-five and two hundred and fifty pounds, I don’t fit comfortably in many vehicles. Even this Hummer is a wee bit cramped for my rockin’ physique. “Have you seen me? Oh wait—you have.” I give her a wink and she blushes.

My macho mobile emerges from the underground, and I steer onto the main street. Admittedly, the Hummy is like ten feet taller than all the other vehicles on the road. I like that, though. Makes me feel like a badass.

The hot blonde next to me, however… She makes me feel all of two feet tall. Seriously. She’s not good for my ego, this one. “You should’ve told me you were moving to the T-Dot.”

“It was last-minute,” she answers without looking over.

“So? Takes all of a second to shoot a text.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because we’re friends?”

“Are we?”

I smirk at her. “Would you rather I said ‘former lovers’? Or maybe soon-to-be-lovers-again?”

She smirks back. “In your dreams.”

“Fuck, yes. Absolutely in my dreams. The wet kind.” I reach over and cover her knee with my palm. “How about we make those dreams a reality?”

Jess flicks my hand away. “Do you ever give up?”

“I play hockey.”

“I didn’t ask what sport you play!”

“That’s the answer, though. Do I give up? Of course not. I’m a hockey player.”

She makes an unflattering noise under her breath, then jerks when the cup holder starts vibrating. Or rather, when my phone makes it vibrate.

“Check that for me, will ya?” I ask as I execute a miraculous lane change without smashing into any other cars. This Hummer wasn’t designed for the narrow streets of downtown Toronto.

“It’s a text. From…Brenna.” Jess puts on a high-pitched voice. “Blakey! I need that recipe for your famous Rippin’ Riley sangria!”

My sister doesn’t sound like that at all, but Jess doesn’t give me the chance to point that out. She just grumbles something else under her breath.