Page 53 of Lose You Twice

Noticeably, anyway.

“Well, you see, Mercer,” she says, far too pleased with herself, “you’re looking at the newest equipment assistant for the PCU men’s hockey team.”

I blink.

Once.

Then again.

“Come again?”

“I’m the blessed individual who gets to wash your disgusting gear after practices and games, along with many other thrilling tasks that will surely look incredible on a résumé.” She drops the jerseys into the cart and grips the handle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She starts to move around me.

I catch her arm before I think.

Not hard, just enough to stop her.

Still, the second I touch her, I know it was a mistake.

Her sleeve ends a few inches above my fingers. Her skin is warm, soft, familiar in a way that sends a rush of heat through my entire body.

Wren looks down at my hand.

So do I.

The room noise fades for half a second. I hear Weston whisper something behind me, then Grayson shutting him up, but I don’t pay them any attention.

It’s been too long since I touched her.

That is the first thought that kicks any logical thing out of my brain.

The second is worse.

I missed this.

I let go immediately and step back. “Sorry.”

Wren’s eyes lift to mine.

For one moment, she doesn’t look amused. She looks as shocked by the contact as I feel.

Then it’s gone.

She adjusts her grip on the cart. “Do you usually greet staff by grabbing them, or am I special?”

Behind me, Weston chokes.

I shoot him a look over my shoulder.

He holds both hands up. “Didn’t say a word.”

“You made a sound.”

“I have a condition.”

“Yeah,” Asher says from somewhere near his stall. “It’s called being annoying.”