“Ironic. But I get the sex symbol status now,” I remark dryly.

“Sure it wasn’t when you were humping me last night?” Beck crosses his arms and leans against the closest tree trunk, surveying me superiorly; like I’m a peasant in his kingdom.

I glare at him. Both because I’m genuinely annoyed by that comment, and to cover my surprise. In my experience, one-night stands are like fight club: unremarked upon. If I ever saw Adler Beck again, I fully expected him to ignore me. I fully intended to ignore him—to not mention our time in a tiny storeroom.

“Oh, that was you?” I tighten my ponytail.

Beck grins. Fuck, he’s good looking. The kind of gorgeous that hijacks thoughts and hormones. “I’d be happy to take some clothes off so you can confirm.”

I snort. “Pass. Plus, it was too dark to see much.”

“Yeah, it was. Bit of a shame.” Beck surveys my body with blatant lust, leaving trails of goose bumps in the wake of his gaze. My athletic shorts reveal my long, toned legs, but my baggy Lancaster Soccer t-shirt leaves a lot to the imagination. Beck’s scrutiny makes me feel indecent in the casual apparel, like I should have shown up at the park in a snowsuit.

I study him back. The chiseled cheekbones. The short, messy blond hair peeking out the sides of his hat. The ropes of muscles winding along his golden forearms. Looks that have landed him on the covers of dozens of magazines—most of which couldn’t care less that he earned the mouth-watering physique and sun-kissed complexion by spending hundreds of hours repeating the same motions over and over again on a soccer field.

“What are you doing here?” I finally ask, breaking our staring contest.

“It’s a public park.”

“I know. You seem like the pretentious type who would only go to a private one that restricts entry the way your club does.”

Beck raises one dark blond brow. “Oh, my club restricts entry?”

I shrug. “Some people seem to find me charming.” He snorts. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You seem like the type who might get needing to exercise without your teammates watching every move you make.”

I think it’s a compliment? It’s also accurate, which is unsettling. “That’s a bit presumptuous of you.”

“You don’t like people making assumptions about you? That’s a bit hypocritical of you.”

“Fine, you’ve made your point,” I snap.

“If we were making assumptions, I’d say you don’t seem like the friendliest person.”

I snort. “That’s a polite way of putting it. Others have gone for ‘cold-hearted bitch’ right out of the gate.”

Beck’s lips quirk. “I’ve gotten ‘heartless bastard’ a couple of times.”