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Let’s be real here—this whole small talk, getting to know each other type of thing, wasn’t my forte either. It had always been easier to lead with my sexuality as a safety blanket of sorts. That’s why one-night stands were far superior to this whole wasting time getting to know each other thing, when it would ultimately lead to nowhere.

Clearing my throat, I figured I’d at least give it a shot.

“I don’t have a ton of hobbies. I mean, I love to dance, hang out with my girls, watch an old romcom on any given night, and go on long drives while listening to music. I haven’t traveled outside of the United States but hope to one day.”

Once I finished rambling, I realized that maybe I came off a little harsh. My list of things I enjoyed doing sounded more like me rattling off a grocery list than entertaining the company of another human. Based on the way Hunter’s eyebrows dipped, I sensed that maybe it was a little off-putting rather than welcoming.

“I’m sorry,” I followed up, “I’m honestly really terrible at the whole small talk thing.” Playing with the hem of my dress, I waited for him to put me out of my misery, but instead, his face softened. It was almost like in the short amount of time we’d known each other he could somehow see right through me. That he knew small talk wasn’t my style, and he was respecting that.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I’m actually quite awful at it myself. Been a while, I guess.” Hunter took a sip of his drink, the awkwardness growing more by the second before he swallowed his liquor and added, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Let’s play a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill.”

My eyes widened, surprised and intrigued with the direction he spun the conversation on a whim. If anything, I figured we’d be stuck here playing something boring—like twenty-one questions. Part of me expected Hunter to put me through the ringer, double down on his need to have a conversation, and ask me all about my life, my upbringing, the typical first date snooze fest that I’d have to suffer through just to get in bed with him.

But somehow, feeling completely out of my control, I allowed my excitement to slip out, even though I had a bit of nerves running through me for no reason at all.

“Oh, I love this game!”

“Okay, I’ll go first. Fuck, Marry, Kill—sex positions. Missionary, doggy, and cowgirl.” He leaned back, his lips forming into a devious smirk.

And he said I was trouble?

“I have a better idea…” I took another sip of my martini, feeling a bit more like myself. “How about you tell me what you think I would say, and I’ll let you know if you’re right or not?”

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Hunter rubbed his finger along the ridge of his jawline, and I couldn’t help but notice just how sexy and down to earth this hotshot, billionaire, owner of the local hockey team really was.

“You’d fuck doggy, marry cowgirl, kill missionary.” Hunter sipped his gin and tonic, waiting for me to respond, but when my jaw dropped, I was speechless.

“What, did you climb inside my head and read my mind or something?”

“Believe it or not, Trouble, I think I have you pegged.” He sipped on his cocktail boastfully.

“If you think you know me so well, explain then.”

“You’d fuck doggy, because who the hell wouldn’t? You’d marry cowgirl since you love being in control. And you’d kill missionary because looking into a man’s eyes is far too intimate for you.”

I’d seen this guy twice in my lifetime, but in just two interactions—now, a third—it was almost as if Hunter had done his homework. He was intuitive, smart, and paid way too much attention to detail.

I didn’t know how I felt about that.

There was something refreshing about a man who you didn’t have to train to pay attention to the small things. But on the other hand, it was scary as hell, because if he wasn’t careful, he’d make this a lot harder on me than I was used to.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He broke the blaring silence of my thoughts on overdrive.

“You a psychic or something?”

Vegas was full of characters, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched.

“No.” He chuckled. “Maybe it was a lucky guess. Maybe I’m observant.”

“All right then, let’s go again, and we’ll see how observant you really are. This time, I’m going to name three locations, and you’ll give me a rundown just like before. Fuck, Marry, Kill—places I’d like to have sex and why.”

“Let’s go.” Hunter popped his knuckles, getting into the competitive spirit. I should have figured he’d take this as a competition—the hockey in him and all.

Tipping back the rest of my martini, I smirked devilishly. In no way was I going to make this easy on him. “At The Royale in a private room, in the bathroom of this bar, and your place.”

Hunter’s jaw hardened, and his fingers wrapped around his glass in a firm grip before he finished off his drink for the liquid courage.

His eyes bored into mine as he answered, “You’d fuck at my place, marry the bathroom, and kill the private room at work.”