Sawyer (Carolina Reapers 2)

But if he got caught, chances were they’d call back any wins that he’d been in net for.

And if I didn’t tell, and he took the ice, it would only increase the games we’d lose once he was found out. The bottle had felt heavy. Full. Like he hadn’t been on them long.

What the fuck was I going to do?

“You seem distracted,” I said to Echo as she jabbed at her steak later that night.

“Oh, do I?” She didn’t look up from her plate.

Oh, shit.

“I’m sorry, am I the distracted one?” I asked softly, keeping my voice at a restaurant-level quiet. My head was still swimming with the Thurston shit from earlier that afternoon, and I still didn’t know what I was going to do. “I don’t mean to be,” I said in way of apology.

I hadn’t seen Echo in almost a week thanks to the playoffs, which also happened to be the night we’d slept together. But we’d texted back and forth, and I’d even called. Everything had seemed...fine.

She looked up at me and arched an eyebrow.

“What?” I looked down to see if I had food all over me or something. “I told you that you look amazing, right?” Because she did. Her black dress was cut modestly in the front but left her back open nearly to the base of her spine. She was stunning.

“Yes, you did.” She softened and sighed. “Look, we have to talk.”

Nausea hit me for the second time that day. “We’re not even in a relationship, and we have to have the talk? Holy shit, was I that bad? Because it seemed like you were enjoying yourself.” Like screamed-my-name kind of enjoyed herself.

Her gaze darted to the tables around us. “Shhh. I don’t give a shit what people think about me, but you’re kind of in the public eye right now.”

My jaw ticked.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, that was...good,” she assured me. “Okay, way better than good. It was…” She bit her lower lip and looked at me like she might crawl across the table and eat me for dessert.

“Yeah, it was,” I agreed. “So what’s up? I know I haven’t been around with playoffs—”

“We said no strings.” She pointed her fork at me.

“Right,” I said slowly. “And yet, I can’t help but feel like I’ve fucked up our non-relationship somehow.”

A lady at the table next to us dropped her jaw, and I offered her an apologetic half-smile.

“We should have stayed in,” Echo muttered, reaching for her purse.

“If we’d stayed in, we would have skipped dinner and gone straight to bed.” Fuck, maybe that’s what we should have done. It was hard for Echo to be mad at me while in the throes of multiple orgasms.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she hissed.

The guy at the table on my left dropped his fork.

“I need to eat,” I explained slowly. “I need the protein ,and I didn’t feel like hauling a grill up on to Langley’s balcony.”

“So why don’t you just pick one of their damned houses and move in already?” she challenged, fishing something out of her purse.

“That’s a good question that I don’t have an answer for.” Part of me wondered if I was procrastinating my choice because I liked being closer to where she worked. “What are you looking for?” I asked when I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer.

“This!” she hissed, holding up the little silver key I’d left.

“My key.”

She set it on the table and pushed it forward. “Yes. Your key. The key that opens your apartment.”

“Has the key done something to offend you? Unlocked a door it shouldn’t have? Put a hole in your purse?” I sipped at my ice water, trying to figure out what had her so frazzled.

“I shouldn’t have your damned key!”

The little area we were sitting in fell completely silent for a painful moment before the chatter around us resumed.

“You’re pissed that I gave you a key?”

“I’m not your little beck and call girl, and I’m sure as hell not your live-in girlfriend or any type of girlfriend, so why the hell would you give me a key?” She tucked her hair behind her ears ruthlessly and stared me down.

“To lock the door after you left,” I answered, then started back in on my steak. “Didn’t you read the note I left?” I asked when she hadn’t responded.

“Yeah, the one that said to either wait for you in bed like I’m some kind of bunny, or lock up behind me when I left?” She smiled sweetly at me, and not in the nice way.

I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “Last time I checked, Echo, you asked for a no-strings policy. The kind where maybe you decide you want to hang around in bed and wait for me to get back so I can fuck you senseless again. Or the kind where you really need to get to work, so you can lock the door on your way out so all my shit doesn’t get stolen.”