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CHAPTER TWELVE

COLLINS

A n hour ago, I was sprawled across my couch, dressed in my favorite sleepwear and fluffy socks, with a bucket of sweet and salty popcorn and the original Terminator movie set to keep me company all night. But then Kendra called and asked what my Wednesday night plans were.

They were exactly as I just described them, but my closest friend had other ideas—along with a convincing plea—when she ordered me to “get dressed up” and come to a cozy cocktail bar on Smith Street because we were having an impromptu celebration for Darcy, her new job, and her newfound freedom from “Fuckface Liam.”

At that point, I was in. Drinking to the demise of asshole men is one of my favorite pastimes. If anyone can relate to new starts and breaking up with cheating boyfriends, then it’s me. Like I said, my Mike era was a waste of my early twenties and a mistake I’ve learned from when it comes to trusting guys.

Naturally, the boys are here, too, and the second I push through the door, my eyes instantly find the back of Archer’s head. He tips his face toward the ceiling, laughing at something Darcy said as she sits next to him, perched on a barstool.

“Babe!”

I’m halfway to the bar when Kendra’s voice stops me, and I spin around to find my friend, Jack, and Sawyer sitting around a table for six.

“Where’s Jenna?” I ask, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, hooking my shoulder bag over the back.

Other than for the briefest of moments, I haven’t looked at Sawyer, but I can sense his eyes on me.

“In France,” Jack replies absentmindedly, picking up his beer and taking a pull.

Turns out, Sawyer isn’t the only one staring since the Blades center can’t tear his gaze away from the bar—or more specifically, his sister.

“Stop staring!” Kendra nudges her elbow into Jack. “They’re just friends, and Darcy flies back to the UK tomorrow night. You can’t blame them for wanting to catch up.” On an eye roll, she sets her attention on me. “The Storm has a four-day rest period, and Jenna’s brother has a big game in Paris. She flew over to watch him.”

I nod once and pick up the cocktail menu, anything to prevent my eyes from landing on the one man I want to look at.

“He plays pro rugby, right?” I ask, fully aware he does since Jenna told me before. But again, anything to keep me distracted.

Jack wraps an arm around Kendra, pulling her into him and kissing the side of her head. She giggles, twisting her hand in his shirt.

“Yeah, plays in the Top 14 league.” She pauses and eyes Jack with a playful smile. “He’s pretty hot.”

His attention immediately snaps from his sister to her. “I am here, you know.”

He brushes his lips over hers, and they share a kiss that belongs in the bedroom. In a moment of weakness, I glance over at Sawyer.

My senses were right.

He’s dressed in a gray henley with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His enticing green eyes, framed by dark lashes, study me intently. I’m wearing the same dress as the night we hooked up, although it wasn’t intentional. In a hurry to get changed and out the door, I grabbed my favorite outfit and threw it on, only to connect the dots halfway into town.

Sawyer picks up his pint and takes a large pull, condensation dripping down the glass and over his fingers. I know I could look away, focus on the drink menu in front of me. Yet I can’t pull my attention from him, nor can I quell the familiar tingles as they dance across my skin.

It’s likely only a second or two, but it feels like forever when Sawyer sets his drink down and points at the menu gripped in my hand.

He tips his lips up, harboring satisfaction at the effect he has on me.

Cocky asshole.

I’m half tempted to ask him if he enjoyed his snoop session in my garage and if he makes a habit of going through people’s things in secret, but that would run the risk of having a conversation about my former motocross career—something I’ve buried in the back of my memory and not talked to anyone about. Not even Kendra.

“Are you planning on ordering a drink from that or just babysitting it all night?” Sawyer asks, dipping his head at the menu.

I narrow my eyes and push back my seat, breaking Kendra and Jack from their make-out session.

I look around the table, smiling sweetly at the broody captain opposite me. Injecting brightness into my tone, I say, “I’m going to grab a mimosa. Can I get anyone?—”

“Yeah, I’ll take another beer.” Sawyer lifts his half-full glass from the table, taking another sip.

He never has two pints on a night out, but again, I think better than to admit I previously noticed that little fact about him.

“IPA?” I ask, maintaining my sweet smile and nodding at the brand stamped on his glass.

“Sure thing,” he replies, reaching into his pocket—no doubt for his credit card.

But before he has time to hand me his Amex—and I assume it is black—I’m across the room with my bag and standing at the busy bar, a couple of people down from Archer and Darcy as they continue talking.

Five minutes later, I’m still waiting on service. There’s a ton of people here tonight, but I swear some of them get served before me.

Lifting my arm, I wave my card in the air, determined to attract a bartender’s attention.

“You look like you could use a little help.”

When a tall shadow crowds me from behind, I close my eyes slowly. I’ve succeeded in my bid for attention all right, just not in the way I wanted.

SAWYER

To my left, I’ve got my center getting into it with his girl. Straight opposite me, I’ve got my goalie flirting like crazy with my center’s sister. And in my hand, I’ve got my empty pint glass, ready to smash beneath the force of my palm.

Why?

Because standing maybe twenty feet away and with her back to me, I’ve got a pink-haired twenty-six-year-old Collins getting hit on by a good-looking guy who, I’m guessing, is a similar age to her.

I clocked him the second Collins reached the bar. Initially, he was sitting at a high-top table with some friends, but the minute he noticed her, he seized his opportunity.

At first, he was behind her, crowding her space and whispering something into her ear like a creep. Now, he’s standing by her side, leaning against the bar and pretending like what she’s saying is the only thing that has his attention.

For the past ten minutes, I’ve reminded myself I have no say over what she does, who she sees, and which bed she chooses to sleep in each night. I have zero hold over her whatsoever.

If she hates the attention this dude’s showing her, she’s doing a damn good job of hiding it. I’m not idiot enough to know Collins enjoys sex, maybe even the occasional fling with a guy. And since last November, it’s only gotten more painfully obvious that she’ll never be short of options.

Guys way younger than me—and likely more confident to make their move—will forever be at her disposal. It’s not just the way she looks tonight in that hot-as-fuck dress she peeled off in front of me, nor is it the casual waves in her hair and striking makeup that draw the guys in. It’s her demeanor. Her badass attitude and total self-control that make them—and me—putty in her hands.

He probably thinks he’s breaking down her walls and getting to know her on a level that swings the pendulum in his favor for tonight—perhaps even a date, if he’s lucky.

But he isn’t.

I doubt Collins Mackenzie has ever let a guy see the real her—a tornado could never be that vulnerable.

Could she be vulnerable with me?

“You okay there, buddy?”

I glance toward Jack’s voice, lifting the glass to my lips and forgetting it’s empty.

Kendra’s eyes dart to Collins, and she offers me a look that screams sympathy.

A sharp tug pulls in my chest, and I set the glass down on the table, exhaling silently.

“All good, just running over plays from this morning’s practice,” I lie.

Neither of them buys my bullshit, and honestly, neither do I as a long stretch of nothing passes between us.

“Fuck it.”

In a single motion, my chair is across the dark wooden floor, my empty glass in my hand, and I swear to God, I hear a low cheer from Jack as I make a beeline for Collins.

“All okay, Baby Girl?” My voice is gruff but assured as I set my glass beside her and pray she doesn’t kick me in the balls for the nickname.

Eyes wide and a perfectly manicured brow arched, she turns around to face me. I haven’t even acknowledged the blond dude since I reached the bar, but I can feel the weight of his stare as I focus solely on Collins.

I can’t make out if she’s more pissed or shocked right now, but I can definitely tell she’s both. And like each time before, her reaction fortifies my need, daring me to challenge her in the way I know she likes.

This girl doesn’t want a man at her feet. She wants a guy who’ll toss her around the bedroom and tussle for dominance.

“Is this your, er …”

“Boyfriend,” I finish for the blond-haired guy as he shifts awkwardly next to us.

Collins’s eyes drop to my hand as I wrap my palm around her hip, turning her to face me fully.

I know the sparkle in her eyes isn’t from the twinkling lights pinned to the ceiling above us; it’s fueled only by the charge we both feel when I touch her.

She lifts her gaze back to mine, and I watch the way her throat works on a swallow.

“I’ve been waiting on our drinks for a while,” she finally says.

Without saying a word, the guy takes the hint and returns to his friends, pulling a smirk from me while I stare down at her.

She bites on her lip, a subtle flush warming her cheeks. I know she’s fighting a smile, and I know a part—or maybe even all—of what just happened pleases her.

“You gonna beat on your chest like a caveman now?” she asks in a steady tone that’s all fake.

I shake my head slowly—pleasure, satisfaction, and realization rolling through me.

I want this girl.

“Come home with me.” The words hang between us, and my lungs tighten while I wait on her response. “We both know that wasn’t the last time.”

For a brief second, I see my need reciprocated in her expression, and then it’s gone. As quickly as it appeared, she wipes it from her face, shutting me down in her trademark way.

Collins shrugs and breaks eye contact, attempting to garner a bartender’s attention. “We can’t sleep together again. It’s not a good idea.”

Despite the disappointment settling in my gut, I squeeze my palm still wrapped around her hip. “Give me one good reason why, Collins.”

A staff member acknowledges her, gesturing to give him a minute, and finally, I have her eyes back on mine.

She blows a breath into her cheeks, another shot of vulnerability crossing her features. “Because I don’t do sex when it can get complicated.”

She reaches up on her tiptoes, and I lean down to meet her height.

Glossy lips tease the shell of my ear as she says, “And especially when that complication involves a man who I can tell wants more from me than I can offer. I don’t know exactly where you expect this to go, but it doesn’t involve catching feelings.”

Satisfaction inflates my chest. It’s the first time she’s been truly honest with me, lowering her defenses even a fraction.

I lean into her ear, the charge between us at an all-time high. “Aren’t you a little bit intrigued by this? I know I am. I want to know where this can go.”

She shakes her head, dismissing the notion immediately. “We already turned that stone over. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe I am, and I don’t see anything wrong with that. Are you horny, Baby Girl?”

She inches back from me, brown eyes narrowed at the nickname. “Yes. But it’s nothing a toy can’t cure.”

My dick stirs. Images of Collins with a vibrator between her thighs is all I can see.

She drops her eyes to the front of my pants, releasing a satisfied noise. The sound only drives my need further.

“Come home with me,” I repeat. “Let me be your toy. You can ride me all night and call all the shots on what we do.”

She tenses, my suggestion turning her on. She’s tempted—I can see it in her eyes, written across her face as she looks off to the side.

I’m so close to winning her over that I can feel it, the word yes balancing on the tip of her tongue, when Archer laughs loudly—a pop of reality snapping her walls back up.

“No,” Collins denies me for a second time, though this response is even less convincing than the first. “Like I said, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”