Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

Ford has a game tomorrow, yet he’s five booths down, staring directly at me while I try to have a decent conversation with a man who was keeping my interest.

That ship sailed the second I heard the name Walker come over the speaker. The room tilted on its side when I snagged onto his knowing smirk, and my heart came to life. Ugh.

“You always made me laugh in class,” Augustus says, pulling me back to the date.

I give him a look while ignoring Ford’s lazy gaze from across the restaurant. “I did? You were always so serious. I don’t think I remember you laughing.”

“That’s because you were always chatting with your friends, paying attention to them”—he shrugs—“while I was paying attention to you.”

Before Ford walked in and ruined my date by watching my every move, that comment would have made me blush. Now, though, all I’m left with is guilt, and I don’t want to admit why.

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes playfully. “Actually…” I push further back into the booth and hate that I have to forcefully keep my attention on him. “I think I remember you giving me a D on one of my papers that deserved an A.”

He snorts. “Which you had no problem saying aloud when receiving your grade.”

I give him a little shrug of my shoulders and grin.

After a long second, he crosses his arms and smiles. “I gave you a D to get your attention.”

“Oh, is that right?” I ask.

He nods gingerly, and I try to find the same spark between us that I felt when he picked me up, but I crave to look at Ford instead. I flicker my gaze past Augustus’s shoulder for a split second, and disappointment settles when I see that Ford isn’t even looking at us.

Instead, he’s buried in his phone.

Augustus clears his throat. “You never came to my office, though. I was hoping you’d come yell at me for a new grade.”

I laugh. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He brushes me off. “It was probably better that you didn’t come to my office.”

“Why?”

He leans further across the table and lowers his voice. “Because sitting across from you now, I know I wouldn’t have let you leave after getting you alone.”

I flush all over at his honesty, but I quickly cool down when I sense a presence approaching our table.

I glare at Ford. What the hell are you doing now?

Augustus leans away from me and quickly glances at Ford before clearing his throat. “Can I help you, Mr. Collins?”

Ford hasn’t been a student of Augustus’s because he teaches in the arts department, and Ford’s degree doesn’t require those types of classes, but apparently, he—along with the rest of Bexley U—knows the names of the hockey players like the back of his hand.

Ford’s rumbly chuckle is full of sarcasm. He takes his hands out of his hoodie pocket, and I tense when I see his clenching knuckles. “No, but you can help yourself not get punched in the face.”

“Ford!” I’m shocked. My mouth falls open, and I admit that my plan was to irritate him, but Ford isn’t one to pick a fight—irritated or not.

“Excuse me?” Augustus stares at him a little more intently, and my stomach fills with dread.

Doom is approaching, and I don’t know how to stop it other than to drag Ford out of this restaurant and let him take me home.

“How many prior students have you fucked, Professor Sterling?” Heat radiates from Ford, and I’m pretty sure everyone in a ten-foot radius hears his strangled tone.

Augustus laughs uncomfortably. “None of your business, and before you try to say it’s against the university’s moral compass, it’s not, if they’re no longer my student.”

“Yeah, but what about your wife’s moral compass?”

I gasp, and my face stings like I’ve been slapped. The betrayal forces me to stand abruptly, and I look down at his ring finger to survey it. I blink several times, hoping the faint tan line on it is a fabrication of my brain. But it isn’t.

“I see what this is,” he says. “You’re jealous that she’s with me and not you.” Augustus shrugs innocently. “I would be too. Just look at her.”

I’m disgusted when his eyes rake over me.

Ford visibly shakes with anger, and I know I have to do something soon before he does. I round the booth and shove him away before turning, grabbing my cup of water, and throwing it right in my prior professor’s face.

His mouth opens with shock before he takes his lying tongue and catches the dripping water droplets falling from his nose.

I slam the cup on the table. “Your wife deserves better.”

Ford’s hoodie bundles in my grip when I pull us through the restaurant and end up in the bathroom, away from wandering eyes. I back myself up against the door as a sort of barricade and watch Ford’s chest climb rapidly while he paces in front of me.

“Will you calm down?” I plead. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

It’s eerie to see him so worked up. I have never liked seeing Ford upset, and to this day, it still makes me uncomfortable.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“I know it isn’t!” He puts his back to me but only for a second. When he spins, he levels me with a scowl. “If you’re going to go on dates, you need to pick better guys!”

I huff and put my hands on my hips. “How was I supposed to know he was married?!”

He shrugs angrily. “I don’t know! Maybe do a quick Google search! That’s what I did!”

My shoulders drop. “I didn’t think I needed to, because he wasn’t a complete stranger.”

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s calmer when he speaks again, but now I’m the one that’s all twisted. “How am I ever supposed to let you go on dates if you go on them with guys like that? Have better taste, Taytum!”

“Fine!” I shout.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and quickly open Bex Hex. Ford grunts when I shove it into his chest. His heart is thumping so hard I can feel it against my hand. “Look at these guys and tell me who’s good enough for me. I’ll ask them on a date right now.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No.”

“Why not?” I ask with frustration.

Ford breathes heavily. “Because none of them are good enough for you.”

I roll my eyes. “Same story, different year. You and Emory have been saying that since I entered high school!”

Ford’s hand comes up to cover mine, trapping it against his chest. “Well, it’s the truth.”

I sigh and attempt to calm down. “Then who is good enough for me, Ford?”

His blue eyes bounce between mine when he opens his mouth. There’s the smallest divot in between his eyebrows that mimics mine as I wait for his answer. My heart slows when he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in closer. The lights grow dimmer, and the air is full of unshed chemistry brewing between us, but then, all of a sudden, the room starts to sway. At first, I think it’s because of his touch. But when I start to shake, I realize it’s not.

“Tay?”

My phone dings, and his eyes widen.

We both reach for my purse on the floor. My fingers tremble against the zipper, but Ford swoops in and pulls me into his arms. He studies the number on the screen and curses.

“It’s in my bag.”

He quickly gets the pen ready with the right dosage without any direction from me. I slowly lift my shirt and flinch when he uses the alcohol pad to clean the area. His warm breath brushes against my skin until it’s dry, and then I turn away and bury my head into his chest.

Ford handles me like I’m a piece of china. He’s gentle, and I hardly feel the pinch. When the needle is inserted, I silently count to ten, then it’s done and over with, and Ford’s lips are brushing against my ear.

“All done,” he whispers. I nod against his chest, and he brushes my hair away from my face. “You okay now?”

I breathe deeply. “I will be.”

“Then let’s go home.” Ford doesn’t let me walk. He keeps me cradled to his chest after putting all my things back in my bag and carries me through the restaurant like a walking billboard for embarrassment.

“Will you please put me down?” I ask.

“And risk you fainting? No.”

I hide from all the staring and don’t pull my face away from his shirt until I feel the cool air wash over my warm skin. I wiggle to my feet, but Ford tightens his grip until the passenger door to his car opens, and he places me inside.

“Was that really necessary?” I ask.

He stays quiet when he pulls the seatbelt down and leans across me to buckle it. I get a strong whiff of his cologne, but it’s gone the moment he backs away and slams my door.

When we’re on the freeway, with nothing but the sound of tires against pavement, I finally get the nerve to speak.

“You never answered me.”

I feel the car pick up speed. “What are you talking about?”

“When I asked who was good enough for me.” I stare at the blurring line outside of my window and wait for his answer. I’m afraid if I look at him and he sees my expression after he gives me the name of some guy, he’ll see my disappointment.

I don’t know when it happened, but no matter who gives me a second glance or swipes right on my photo, I immediately compare him to Ford, and the one who comes out on top is the one who doesn’t want to be on top.

When we pull up to my sorority house, Ford puts his car in park and reaches for his phone. The light illuminates each of his strong features, and there’s something so incredibly comforting knowing that Ford is there to take care of me when I need it. He visibly relaxes after he reads my glucose level.

I nod. “See? All better. And before you get angry, I haven’t messed with my insulin since we talked.”

He grips the steering wheel and stares out the windshield. “Good.”

“You better go,” I say. “You’ve got a game tomorrow, and Emory is going to kill you if you play like shit again from lack of sleep.”

Ford turns to look at me. “Even on my worst days, I don’t play like shit, and you know it.”

I laugh quietly and open the passenger door to climb out of his car.

Once I slam it and round the car, I hear his window roll down. I keep my back to him, but I stop when he says my name. Butterflies flutter in my lower stomach, and the feeling is becoming tiresome.

“I didn’t answer your question for a reason.”

I hold my breath because there’s a sincerity in Ford’s tone that wasn’t there before.

“Me,” he says.

I turn slightly, in case I didn’t hear him correctly.

“I’m the only one who’s good enough for you.” My heart skips. “But I guess I’ll try to find a close second.”

I stand on the porch with my back to him well after his car takes off.

The problem is that I’m not sure there will be a close second.