A Secret for a Secret (All In #3)(47)

Corey’s lounging in one of the waiting room chairs, long legs stretched out and crossed over each other, phone in his hand, smarmy smirk firmly in place. I’m sure he’s going through one of his social media accounts, looking at all the comments from the women who want to hump him and the would-be hockey stars who want to be him.

“All set, Corey. Would you prefer paperwork first or a tour of the facilities?” My face feels stiff with how fake my smile is.

He clicks away on his phone for an inappropriately long time while my dad and I stand there, waiting for him to acknowledge us and respond. Finally he shuts down his phone and slips it in his pocket. “I’ll take the private tour first.” While the words themselves aren’t inappropriate, his tone is slick and slimy.

I’m pretty sure I hear my dad’s teeth grind together beside me. Or maybe they’re mine.

“Great. We’ll be back in a bit.” I do an about-face and head for the hallway, not checking to see if he’s following. “I’ll show you the gym first, and then you can tour the locker room and the rink.”

After several long seconds of silence, I finally give in and glance over my shoulder. Corey’s phone is back out and he’s thumb typing away, shambling along like he has all the time in the world and I’m absolutely irrelevant.

Which I suppose I sort of am and honestly probably always have been. You’re just a warm hole to fill, like the rest of them. Those were the words he once used, while drunk, after I caught him cheating on me. In the bed we shared. With some puck bunny he’d met by the keg in the living room of the frat house we were shacking up in.

Obviously my taste in men wasn’t great at eighteen. And truthfully, until Kingston my poor taste was an unfortunate trend that extended throughout college. It’s sad, really, considering I have such a great father, and logistically I should have been able to make better choices when it came to men and dating. I’ll blame low self-esteem and insecurity for all the less-than-stellar boyfriends. And possibly flat keg beer.

I don’t bother to slow down or look over my shoulder again to see how far behind he’s fallen until I reach the gym. Unfortunately, it’s empty, since the team has long since finished its preskate workout.

“I remember when you used to come by the college gym to see if I was working out.” He’s right behind me. So close that I can feel his breath on my temple.

I open the door forcefully and elbow him in the side, smiling at his oof. Letting go of the door so he has to catch it or risk getting his fingers caught between it and the jamb, I step inside and create some space between us.

“First of all, you don’t get to stroll down memory lane with me. Ever.”

“Come on, Queenie, we had some good times.”

“I can probably count all of them on one hand. And that time I found you banging a bunny in our bed pretty much cancels out every single damn one of them.”

“I was drunk.”

“As if that’s an excuse.”

“I thought she was you.” He says this while picking his nail.

I hate him so much. “She was blonde and I am not. The only way she resembled me even remotely was because she had boobs and a warm hole.”

Corey sneers. “Still the same bitchy attitude you had back in college. And you wonder why you couldn’t keep anyone entertained for longer than a few months.”

I grit my teeth, aware that he’s needling me on purpose and that if I have an outburst of any kind I’ll be giving him exactly what he wants—a reaction. It will also make me look unprofessional. I have to see his jerk face on a regular basis, so if I feed into this now, it’s just going to make it infinitely more difficult in the future.

“Although if I remember correctly, you could do a few things with that mouth that were worth hanging around for.”

I spin to face him and give him my widest, most syrupy smile. “I think we need to set some ground rules.”

He leans against the closed door. I know it’s meant to make me feel like I’m trapped, but I know all the exits out of here, while he does not. Still, it’s annoying that he believes he can use these kinds of tactics to intimidate me. “I’m engaged, in case you didn’t know, and she’s preggers, so you and every other bunny are off limits. For now, anyway.”

God, he’s disgusting. And worse than he was when I first started dating him all those years ago. I hold up a finger. “One, I’m not a bunny.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?”

“Rumor has it you’re chasing guys on the team.”

“Well, rumor has it wrong. Secondly, even if you were the last man on earth and the entire welfare of our species hinged on me sleeping with you, I would gladly forfeit my own life and that of the entire living, breathing universe to avoid ever having your hands or any other part of you on my body.”

“That’s not how you felt in college.”

“It took about six weeks for me to develop a strong aversion to you, since your misogynistic asshole side didn’t come out until we were living under the same roof. You need to keep your mouth shut about what happened between us.”

“You mean when we—”

I hold a hand up in his face. It’s annoying how high I have to reach because he’s so tall and I’m not. “Do not finish that statement. Ever. You will take it to the grave with you, and so will I.”