Quick Trick (A Rough Riders Hockey Novel Book 1) by Skye Jordan, Joan Swan Page A

may not generate the same interest, but…”
    “But you’ve got to try.” He leaned back against a shelf, stretched out his legs, and crossed his feet at the ankles. Then met her eyes as he tossed more lights into the pile. “Because from what I heard, it sounds like you don’t have much of a choice.”
    Her shoulders fell, and she looked away, ashamed to be stuck in this spot. Worse, she hated telling a stranger how desperate she was. Especially a stranger who had more money than he knew what to do with. “I’ll figure it out.”
    “I’m sure you will,” he said, his voice confident and sincere. “But you might figure it out faster if you let me help.” When she shot him an exasperated look, he held up both hands. “No ulterior motive. Okay, other than staying as far away from my parents as possible. And, yeah, maybe I’d like to get to know you better. I never got the chance in high school. That Brady kid had you hog-tied.”
    “So you’re the Saber who was in my class.”
    “Guilty. And I know a little about video. Shooting, cutting, and editing it. Getting it up online. That’s what you want help with, isn’t it?”
    “Partly, yes.” Faith wondered when he was going to throw in his professional hockey player status. When he was going to mention how much money he had. When he’d start dropping the names of other famous people he hung with in the big city.
    He grabbed another strand of lights and started winding. “And…”
    “I knew it,” she said. “Here it comes.”
    “I’d also like to do something to cheer up Dwayne.”
    Faith frowned. “How’d you know this all came from Dwayne?”
    “I saw him leaving. And who else in town has enough equipment for a freaking Christmas in Fantasia?”
    “Good point.”
    “It’s a hard time of year for him since MaryAnn passed. I know it would mean a lot to him if he could get this working for her. For the people in town who have looked forward to it every year for decades.”
    Ah, crap… Faith sighed heavily. He had to be handsome and hot and sweet?
    “What?”
    She just shook her head.
    “Too proud?”
    “What?” she asked.
    “Are you too proud to accept help?” he asked.
    She pressed her lips together.
    He laughed, nodded. “I sorta figured that one out the night we met.”
    “Shut up.”
    After tying off the last strand of lights, he tossed them into a pile. He got to his feet, waited for Faith to finish her strand, then offered a hand to help her up.
    She took it and immediately regretted it. He was big and strong and warm. And the intimacy of the simple touch crushed another barrier between them. Then he pulled her to her feet with enough force to tip her off-balance, and she fell into him with a squeak. Her chest hit his; their thighs bumped. She pulled in a shocked breath and tried to ease away, but he’d already slipped his arm around her waist and held her tight. Their bellies pressed. Their hips aligned.
    “Grant…”
    Grant what? Her mind told her to tell him to let her go. But her body didn’t want to have anything to do with that idea.
    “Still have my number?” he asked.
    But the words didn’t register in Faith’s head. All she could focus on was every point where their bodies connected. The way his forearm felt low on her back. The heat of his hand curved around her waist. The way a few of his fingers touched flesh where her shirt had ridden up. The thickness of his thigh between hers.
    “Faith?”
    She glanced up. Oh, shit— wrong . Wrong, wrong, wrong. He was looking down at her, his lips right there. Right. There.
    Faith had forgotten how to breathe.
    She watched his lips as he spoke again. “Do you still have my number?”
    “No.” She forced herself to at least sound like she was in control. “I threw it out.”
    His lips kicked up in a lopsided grin and his straight, white teeth contrasted with his tanned skin. He released her hand and reached around to his back pocket but still held her tight against his