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CHAPTER TEN

COLLINS

T echnically, I should be in Las Vegas. In reality, I’m standing outside Jack and Kendra’s apartment with a bottle of Chardonnay in one hand, my other one hovering over the door.

Up until a few hours ago, I talked myself out of showing up tonight. Fake Harley Rendezvous event or not, the best place for me was sitting on my couch, on my own, watching movies. I’m still not convinced this is a good idea, like being around Sawyer Bryce.

Still, I’m here. When I pulled on my boots and raced to the store for the wine I’m holding, I told myself this was about my friends and not letting them down. And it is.

The door swings open before I’ve had a chance to knock, and Kendra throws her arms around me.

“Oh my God, you came!” She immediately pulls back, a slight wince on her face. “Sorry, was that too much? I know how you feel about the invasion of personal space.”

With my free hand, I pull her back into me. “I can make exceptions for certain people.”

We break apart, and I hold up the wine—my turn to wince. “I figured it was polite to bring a bottle, but this also doubles as an apology. I know I said I wasn’t coming, but … yeah …” I trail off since I don’t have a valid explanation for turning down the meal—other than to avoid Sawyer.

Kendra takes the wine and moves aside for me to enter the apartment. I step in, and she sets the bottle on a table just inside the door.

“You know he’s here tonight, right?”

I nod and pull off my jacket. “I know. But just because we slept together doesn’t mean we should avoid each other for the rest of time.” I blow out a breath, and Kendra takes my jacket, hanging it up on the coat stand next to her. “Besides, I’m here for my friends.”

Warmth illuminates her face, right before she purses her lips. “Ezra’s here too.”

My eyes dart to hers, and Kendra smiles knowingly, probably thinking back to the way we interacted at Rise Up.

“He is? I figured he’d be with a sitter or something.”

Shaking her head, she takes my hand, leading me toward their dining room. Since the kitchen and living area are empty but I can hear voices, I assume everyone is gathered in there.

She stops just outside the closed door. “For what it’s worth—and I know I wasn’t there—I don’t think that night was a mistake. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.” She bites her bottom lip and smirks. “Or more the way Sawyer looks at you. Don’t shut something down that might be good before it’s even had a chance to grow.”

I lift a brow. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not a drop.” She chuckles softly and opens the door. “Guess who decided to show.”

“Collins! Oh my God!”

Darcy flies from her chair at the head of the table and makes a beeline for me, wrapping her arms around me and giggling.

Jack’s sister is pure sunshine—the complete opposite of me in every way. With her long honey-colored hair, taste in bright clothes, sparkling blue eyes, and extrovert nature, she makes my black jeans and lace cami top appear even darker. She reminds me so much of her mom, Felicity—who I’ve met at games a few times since her husband, Jon, is the Blades coach. Darcy is genuinely one of the kindest souls on earth, and I’ve managed to decipher all of that just from the handful of occasions I’ve met her.

I guess you could say she’s an open book.

“I didn’t think you were coming. Jack said you were going to some kind of motorcycle event in Vegas.”

Up until I met Darcy, I always considered Jack to have a strong British accent, but it’s clear it’s lost some strength after years of him living stateside. Darcy’s accent is like stepping onto the set of Bridgerton .

She releases me from a vise grip, and I scan the room, my eyes landing on Sawyer and Ezra sitting on the opposite side of the table. The last available seat is next to the twelve-year-old boy with eyes like saucers.

My body flushes warm, and I refocus on Darcy. “Couldn’t miss your announcement.”

“Well, good thing I haven’t said anything yet,” Darcy replies.

“Can’t imagine you got a refund on your tickets or travel costs this late notice.”

I follow the voice, my gaze landing back on Sawyer. With his fingers laced under his chin, he pins me with a challenging look. If I allowed my brain to go there, I might think he doesn’t mind me showing up; perhaps he’s even happy about it. Which surprises me since the last time we spoke, I was a brat.

Jack stands from his place next to Archer. “Okay, if you take a seat next to Ezra, I’ll fetch the food.”

* * *

“How many bikes have you fixed?” Ezra fires his tenth question in as many minutes. He takes a huge mouthful of food, washing it down with a Diet Coke.

“When you say fixed, do you mean as in refurbished or actually got it working again?”

He shrugs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his cell. “On Insta, you mainly talk about mechanical faults.”

“Not while we’re eating.” Sawyer points at Ezra’s cell, and he quickly repockets it.

I take a bite of the shepherd’s pie Jack made—which is surprisingly really fucking nice—and smile around the fork.

“You found my Instagram page then. I guess it wasn’t that hard since my handle is my first name.”

Ezra nods, but I don’t miss the way his dad flushes before he picks up his water glass and takes two big pulls.

“If we’re talking bikes mended, then I’ve lost count. I do it every day for a living. Plus, my followers generally find more value in problem-solving their mechanical issues. Although I prefer to create content on restoring older bikes back to their former glory.”

“Can I come see your bike downstairs?” Ezra asks.

I shake my head once, eyes briefly lifting to Sawyer. “I’m sorry. I took the bus here tonight.”

Ezra’s face drops, and something unfamiliar tugs in my chest.

“Can I come see it another time? Maybe at your place?”

“Ezra,” Sawyer immediately interjects, “you can’t just go around inviting yourself to people’s homes.” He shakes his head.

“I’m home tomorrow, if that works for you?” I look at Ezra, the invite leaving my mouth before I can process what I said.

His excited eyes flare wide, and I peek up at Sawyer.

“If that’s okay with you?”

“Can I? Please?!” Ezra practically begs his dad, garnering attention from the rest of the table.

Sawyer takes another sip of water, setting the glass back down and running a palm across his mouth. I can see the conflict on his face, and I’m about to offer him a way out when he nods once.

“All right.”

“Awesome!”

Ezra holds his fist out for me to bump, and I reciprocate. The second his smaller knuckles meet mine, I’m thinking through all the parts and tools I can show him. I just cleaned and waxed my bike yesterday, but I guess there’s no harm in going over it again.

“Call me impatient, but at what point do we get to know your secret?” Archer announces from the other end of the table, looking kind of stressed.

“It has to be an engagement,” Sawyer offers. “Or maybe a pregnancy.”

Darcy holds up her left hand. “If I were engaged, would it not be pretty obvious?” Her face then scrunches. “And I’m twenty-three and finishing my post-grad; babies are not on the agenda right now.” Her face drops slightly but then resets to her usual bright self.

“Spit it out, woman,” Jack says.

She glances around at us all. “I’m moving to New York!”

With one slap across the back, Jack dislodges the food caught in Archer’s esophagus.

“With Liam?” he asks, adding another thump between Archer’s shoulder blades as he inhales a deep breath and recovers.

“Yeah, well … me moving isn’t the only thing that’s changed.” Her voice is lower, a touch of sadness to it. “I broke up with Liam.”

I can’t be sure if it’s to curb the coughing fit or buy himself a second, but Archer reaches for his beer and chugs half of it down.

“Wait, I have so many questions.” Jack holds up a hand. “You were living with Liam. Where are you now?”

Darcy lifts a shoulder. “At a friend’s. We broke up, like, two weeks ago, and I moved out. It just wasn’t working anymore. Maybe we’d drifted apart. I don’t know. I guess the final nail in the coffin was when I got offered an associate editor position in Manhattan. Starts in a few months, and I couldn’t turn it down. Oh, that, and I caught him cheating,” she tags on casually, like she’s determined not to let a man get to her.

My kind of girl.

I don’t know whose face looks redder—Jack’s or Archer’s. But I’m guessing they’re both pissed at what her long-term boyfriend, Liam, did.

Darcy’s eyes glaze, and I push back my chair, picking up my plate. I’m not good with emotions since I never know what to say. I take the change in atmosphere as my cue to leave and make myself useful.

“Okay, let me gather up all of these.” I pick up Ezra’s empty plate just as Kendra collects a couple more. “I got it,” I say to her, tipping my head at Darcy. “You stay.”

She smiles and rounds the table, heading straight for Jack’s sister as I make for the kitchen, balancing five plates and two serving bowls in my arms.

I make it to the counter just in time and set the whole lot down, shaking out my aching arms before filling the sink to rinse the plates off.

“You didn’t have to invite Ezra over, you know. I could’ve taken him to a motorcycle event.”

I spin around and find Sawyer standing a couple of feet away from me.

He grins down at me, hands tucked into his dark blue dress pants, strong, tattooed forearms on display with white shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. “I heard they have great events in Vegas.”

My hands grip the marble counter behind me, and after a short stretch of silence, Sawyer reaches around me and turns off the faucet.

His fresh cologne—the same scent he was wearing the night we hooked up—wafts over me, and the tingles I convinced myself were long gone tickle my body, down to my toes.

He lets out a long exhale as his eyes drop down my body. It’s subtle enough that he can convince himself I didn’t notice, but I did.

“I didn’t want him to be disappointed.” I don’t recognize my own voice; it sounds thick and tense. I quickly clear my throat. “I have a day off, and I really don’t mind. Sharing my passion makes me happy.”

Sawyer smiles at that, his tongue peeking out to run across his bottom lip. “I’ve finally found something that makes you smile, huh?”

I fight back the urge to do just that and he steps a little closer.

“Is there anything else that makes you happy, Collins?”

The tingles intensify, and I bite the inside of my cheek, attempting to suppress them. “Personal space is always a winner.”

He throws his head back and chuckles low toward the ceiling. “You know what I think?”

I grip the marble harder. “Enlighten me.”

In a fast move I don’t expect, Sawyer tips my chin up with his finger, pinning his green eyes on mine. “I think giving me shit makes you happy.”

He’s not wrong; I can’t deny that a guy who can banter turns me on.

“Shame your comebacks are crap though,” I reply, swiping his finger away.

He maintains eye contact, and I could kick myself when my eyes fall to his full lips. I remember a lot about that night—probably more than I should for a one-night stand. But one thing we’ve never shared was a kiss.

I shake away the urge.

“Am I invited to your playdate tomorrow?” he asks, tone subtly flirtatious.

I reach to the side and grab a cloth, ready to start working on the dishes. “Depends. If talking about bikes will bore you to death, you can just drop off and go find something sporty to do.”

Laughter filters from the dining room, and Sawyer releases me from his penetrative gaze, looking over his shoulder.

“I think I can stand your company for an hour.” He turns back to me, challenge all over his face. “How about one p.m.?”

He reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone.

“What do you want me to do with this?” I ask.

He tips his chin at it. “Your address would help since I never dropped you home that night.”

I drop my head, trying to hide the flush that warms my cheeks.

Get a grip, Collins . He’s just a man.

“Oh yeah. Duh,” I quickly reply, my head spinning with his proximity.

Opening a new contact, I enter my address, offering the phone to him when I finish the zip code.

Sawyer doesn’t take it back. All he does is smile at me. I want to look away and break whatever trance he has me in. I also don’t. The tension between us is addictive, and the more we interact, the more it builds.

Dangerous. This boy is dangerous for you, Collins. Especially now that you’re spending time with his son.

Catching feelings is not an option for anyone in this scenario.

“Add your cell number too,” he requests. “You know, just in case we get lost and need directions.”