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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SAWYER

Collins

You know when I told you I was into kink, exhibitionism wasn’t on that list. The look on Archer’s face will be burned into my memory until the day my body is turned to ash.

Me

I know, Baby Girl. Mine too.

Collins

You didn’t even see his face; you had your head buried in my stomach.

Me

Imagining it is traumatic enough.

Collins

I don’t think I’m ever going to recover. I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.

Me

Try a seven-day away series with him.

Collins

Please tell me he hasn’t told the others what he walked in on!

Me

No, but he has been insufferable.

I peer across the hotel bedroom and at Archer as he takes his usual afternoon nap before a game. With his arms braced behind his head, he even looks cocky in his sleep.

Me

Although insufferable is his usual setting.

Collins

Of all the people to catch us, I do think Archer was the best option.

Me

Why?

Collins

Playboy. He’s probably been in a similar position himself at some point. I bet he has a few skeletons in his closet.

I think back to his run-in with Shane and Kassie.

Me

True that.

Is it bad that I’m already thinking of ways I can get you in that position again?

Collins

Not happening.

As her latest message comes through, I can’t help the sense of unease. Is she serious? No more sex? I want so much more with her. I’m a patient guy, especially when it comes to the people I care about. But I need to know where her head is at.

Me

It might be a really bad idea, bringing this up now and over text, but I have to know, Collins. Do I even stand a chance with you?

Collins

You’re right; this is a really bad idea—and bad timing too. I want to talk to you about us when you get home. There’s so much I have to say.

My stomach roils, threatening to empty itself out onto the plush hotel carpet.

Me

That’s another four days away.

Collins

I know, and I’m not trying to be deliberately evasive. I just need this time to figure everything out in my head.

I like you, Sawyer. I like everything about you.

Tension dissipates from my body, although not entirely, and a smile slowly creeps onto my face.

Me

Why don’t you let me take you out when I get home on Sunday morning? How about some breakfast?

Collins

I’m working overtime again at the garage.

Something about the number of hours my girl works doesn’t sit right with me. I get that she’s passionate about bikes and her job, and I get that Brooklyn is an expensive place to live, so she needs the money for rent, but I don’t hear of other mechanics picking up hours like she does.

I consider typing out a message to that effect but quickly think better of it. Poking my nose into her business will not get me on the right side of Collins Mackenzie.

Archer stirs in the bed next to mine, and as he mumbles something in his sleep, an idea blooms in my head. Not far from her garage is a place called Lustful Luxuries.

Me

All right, how about I take you out for lunch? You get an hour, right?

Collins

I do, and, yes, why not? So long as it isn’t stuffy or snooty.

Me

Oh, Baby Girl, I can confidently confirm it’s neither of those things.

Collins

We’re going with the nickname then.

Me

I don’t see you objecting to it anymore.

Collins

No, I am not.

“Do you think Jack and Kendra have used the handcuffs yet?”

Still smiling like a fool, I lock my screen and set my phone down on the duvet next to me.

Turning to Archer, who has fully woken and is lying on his side, facing me, hands clasped between his head and the pillow, I balk at the thought of Jack getting it on.

“Why in the world would you be thinking about your center and his fiancée having sex?”

Archer rolls onto his back, interlacing his fingers across his chest. “I’m not in that sense. I just can’t believe you got away with it.”

“We got away with it because you haven’t said anything—thank Christ.”

He runs his pinched fingers across his lips, zipping them shut. “This mouth is forever sealed.”

I tap my phone screen once, checking the time and how long we have until the team bus pulls up. “Is that a promise?”

He pushes his head back into the pillow, a grumble rising from his throat. “I’m always the butt of your jokes. No one takes me seriously around here.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up, facing me. “And I can be one hundred percent trusted and serious when I need to be, you know? Not everything is a game to me.”

I mirror his actions until we’re facing each other. “Name one thing you take seriously,” I say, lips trembling with amusement since I’m only goading him, just as he does with everyone else.

To my surprise, he flushes—full-on fucking flushes; hot pink takes over his face and chest since—once a-fucking-gain—he isn’t wearing a shirt.

Collapsing back on his bed with a thud, he stares up at the white ceiling. “Never mind.”

Well, color me intrigued.

“Archer,” I demand, “what the fuck have you done this time? Please tell me you haven’t gotten it on with Kassie again.”

Archer’s jaw tics, his eyes remaining locked on the ceiling. “Nope. No danger of that.”

I flop onto my back in a wave of relief. “At least you learned the error of your ways with her. Maybe you’ll be a little more careful about who you hook up with in the future.”

“No danger of hooking up either.”

I’m back in a sitting position, relief replaced with concern. Not just in response to his statement, but the way he said it. I go to speak, but he cuts me off.

“I don’t want to talk about it because it’s pointless. So, can we just change the subject, please?” He pushes a stressed hand through his hair.

My concern increases. “Is everything okay, man?”

He puffs out a humorless laugh. “Yep. Everything is just peachy.”

“Oh, well, now I definitely believe you.”

He twists his head to face me, and it’s then I see just how serious Archer Moore can be. In all the seasons I’ve played with him, I’ve never seen him look like this.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you ask me; I’m not talking about it. I might be a lot of things, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not an idiot. I know where the line is. So, can we just forget this conversation ever happened?”

“If that’s what you want, I?—”

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” he bites out, shooting off the bed and heading for the dresser over on the far side of the room.

Pulling a drawer open, he grabs a couple of tops and walks them over to a training bag slung on a chair in the far corner. “I’m going to hit the gym for an hour before we head to the arena. Want to join me?”

I mull it over, thinking it might be a good way to get us back on track, when my phone buzzes next to me, and Ezra’s face lights up the screen.

I pick it up and wave it at Archer, indicating I can’t make it to the gym.

He throws a top on and gives me a thumbs-up. “Say hi to my little buddy Ezra,” Archer calls over his shoulder, swinging the door open and closing it behind him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the arena?” Ezra gets straight into it the moment our video call connects.

I guess a hello, how are you would be asking too much of a preteen.

“Will be in an hour. How was school?”

He rolls his eyes and dumps himself down on Alyssa and Dom’s couch.

“Ezra, shoes off, please!” I hear Alyssa call from behind him.

Ezra rolls his eyes again and then fidgets—I’m guessing pushing them off with each foot in the way he does at home. “School was school. What are we doing for the holidays?”

I shrug since, just like Thanksgiving, I’m not a fan of Christmas. The only effort I make is for my son. “I guess the same as last year—dinner at Alyssa and Dom’s and then back home for dessert and board games.”

“Borrring!” he exclaims, which earns another scolding from Alyssa.

I run a palm across my face. “Well, you come up with something, and we can discuss if it’s possible. Remember, I have games all around that time.”

Ezra looks off to the side and then back at me. “Can we … can we go see Collins and her garage for Christmas?”

I scratch at my chin, not sure how the fuck to answer. She doesn’t really have family, so I can’t use that as an excuse—and I don’t want to. Seeing Collins on Christmas Day would be the best gift.

Still, I need to play this safe for everyone. I can’t just go and invite ourselves over to her place.

“She’s likely already made plans, and I’m not sure detailing her bike is on her agenda that day.”

My son visibly deflates, and I do the same. It’s no lie that all any good parent wants is to see their child happy.

And Collins makes him exactly that.

“She loves bikes just as much as me, and I want to spend the day at her garage, so I think you’re wrong, Dad.”

It’s possible I am incorrect, and a large part of me hopes I am.

I roll my tongue across the roof of my mouth, figuring out what the hell I should do. She wants to talk when I get back to Brooklyn, and while Lustful Luxuries isn’t exactly the place to hold a meaningful conversation, I’m confident my bed will be after I use whatever we buy on her later that night.

I rein myself in. Jesus, Sawyer, you’re talking about Christmas with your son.

“All right,” I say, and Ezra’s face lights up like the damn Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. “Let me talk with her when I get back home.”