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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SAWYER

I t’s possible I just set the record for the fastest airport exit in human history. Jack had nothing on me as I hauled ass from the runway, racing through security and out into the parking lot.

I need to see Collins.

Seven days is nothing compared to some of the extended away series we travel for, and already, I’m thinking about how the fuck I’m going to make it through those since this one was damn torture.

The only relief came partway through the week when Collins messaged, letting me know Ezra had turned up at her apartment and she took him for pizza and ice cream. I was suiting up when I got the text. Imagining the two most important people in my life sitting in a booth somewhere, Ezra’s beaming face as he shared a pizza with my girl, was the best possible game prep I could’ve wished for.

I killed it that night on the ice. The only place I’d have chosen over the rink would’ve been a seat next to one of them in the booth or maybe just the chance to be a fly on the wall, witnessing the effect those two had on each other.

Collins Mackenzie is incredible. Sure, she’s beautiful, smart, and her own unique brand, just as she portrays to the outside world. But as I peel the layers back, I see so much depth to her—a side I think she subconsciously denies herself from revealing. The kind of caring side I’m convinced is exclusive to my son—and I hope to me too.

Realizing I’m in love with the woman while sitting in her workplace parking lot was not on my bingo card. In fact, none of this was. Yet it’s happening, and not an ounce of me is mad or intimidated by it.

As I sit in my truck—my luggage in the trunk since I didn’t even bother to take that home—I watch her go about serving customers and filling out paperwork from behind the front desk.

From this distance, I can’t see her face, though I know she’s smiling—she has to be. Motorcycles are what makes this girl happy. Witnessing the passion as it rolls off her in waves is what makes me happy. Because I can relate to that feeling with hockey. When Sophie died, that passion dulled, at one point turning into something that felt more like resentment—since if I hadn’t been away from home at that time, I might’ve been able to save her.

Collins has reignited that passion. Hell, I even smiled during a press interview last night. Jack, the fucker, feigned passing out when he saw the footage.

Swinging my door open, I close it and lock the truck up, striding toward the entrance as Collins disappears back inside the garage.

The bell above the door rings as I push into the reception area, pulling off my Blades cap and running a nervous hand through my hair. I’m desperate to talk about us and what she wants.

Christ, please be me.

“Can I help you?”

I’m halfway to the seating area at the back when a male voice stops me in my tracks, and I spin around to face him.

I’ve no doubt this is her boss, Cameron, wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants. He even dresses like an asshole and uses way too much hair gel. I can smell it from here.

Taking a couple of steps back toward him, I tip my chin at the door leading to the garage. “I’m here for Collins.”

His brown eyes study me carefully, slick black hair shining under the fluorescent lights. I can’t be sure if he recognizes who I am, and equally, I couldn’t give a fuck.

“I assume you’re another one of Collins’s Instagram followers, looking for a free bike service or health check?” he asks, voice full of cynicism.

Ten seconds in his company, and I don’t like him; he gives me the fucking creeps.

I scrub a hand over my unshaven jawline, puffing out a soft breath. The temptation to do just as I did in the bar that time and claim I’m her boyfriend is overwhelming, but I resist, opting for the truth.

“I don’t own a bike. I’m here to take her out.”

He balks but tries to hide it. “As in a date?”

“Yeah,” I reply, not that it has anything to do with him.

Cameron scratches the side of his neck, clearly displeased. “Well, you’ll need to come back when she gets off her shift at, like”—he pushes back the cuff of his shirt, checking his watch—“after five.”

I mirror his actions, pushing up the sleeves of my coat and black henley. “She has a lunch break in, like, twenty minutes, no?”

Casually, he readjusts the collar on his shirt. The move is condescending. How the fuck does a girl like Collins stand working for a guy like this? Thoughts that she actually slept with this prick surface, and I push them away.

Don’t punch her boss, for fuck’s sake, Sawyer.

“You want to take her out for a date on her lunch break?”

No, fucker. I want to see her as soon as motherfucking possible, and if that means grabbing an hour with my girl before she has to return to work for your sorry ass, then that’s what I’ll do.

I smile, patience wearing thin. “Yep. I just got back from a week away, and I want to see my girl.” The my girl part slips out unintentionally.

His brows shoot to his hairline. “So, you’re a thing?” He huffs out a doubtful sound. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, buddy. Collins doesn’t get serious with anyone. Not even NHL players.”

Ah, so he does recognize me.

My level of calm now rapidly dwindling, I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Maybe it just took the right guy to come along.”

Unless Collins told him, Cameron has no idea I know they once had a thing. His face tells the story though as he rocks back on his heels, getting a better view through a window into the garage.

“I’m not a huge hockey fan, but I know who you are. And since your face is always in the press, I’ll save you the potential of public embarrassment.” His face is all smarm as he resets his focus on me. “Watch out with that one. She’s got a habit of bedding men and leading them on, only to toss them aside a few days or weeks later.”

My blood boils as my hands curl, straining inside my denim pockets as they fight to form fists. “You sound like you speak from experience,” I reply, acting none the wiser, my voice not revealing how pissed I am at the way he speaks about a girl he clearly knows nothing about.

“Huh, yeah, you could say that. At one point, I thought Collins liked me for my personality. Turned out, she just wanted to ride my dick.”

I’m across the room and in his face in a split fucking second. “Don’t talk about Collins that way. In fact, never speak about her again.”

Yep, alpha Sawyer has officially reentered the chat.

His eyes flare, and he holds up one hand. “Whoa. All right there, buddy. I’m just giving you a friendly warning to get out before it’s too late—or at least adjust your expectations.”

On a clenched jaw, I debate what his cocky face would look like with a broken nose. “You think I’d take a warning or even listen to a guy who treats his employees like shit? You know what I think? I think you wanted more, and she turned you down, so your ego got bruised, and now you abuse your position as her manager, making her work all hours God sends as a way to nurse your wounds. That’s right; she’s told me all about you.”

I take a step back, and he doesn’t say a word, his self-assured face never wavering.

“Now, given that she barely uses her vacation time and you clearly like taking advantage of her passion for bikes, this is how it’s going to go down.”

Behind the desk, I clock an oil-stained set of overalls, and I casually move around Cameron, pulling them off the hook and tossing them at him.

Stunned, he catches them against his chest.

“You’re going to change out of those ugly-as-fuck dress shoes and pants and into something that tells me you actually give a shit about your staff and possess even a modicum of work ethic. Then you’re going to cover my girlfriend’s shift …”

Shit, I said it.

“And she’s going to take this afternoon and tomorrow off work,” I finish.

He scoffs. “Are you for fucking real? I’ve got a business to run.”

I turn on my heel, practically yanking the front door off its hinges. I’ll wait for Collins in the truck.

Before I step outside, I pause and tip my head to look at him. “Call in a colleague to put some hours in—hell, close for all I care. Because there’s zero chance of her showing up for work tomorrow morning. Not when I have her in my bed.”