Page 10 of Sack

End of story.

He pulled into his driveway and hit the button for the garage door. He’d bought the four-bedroom, three-bath, brick house eight years prior when he knew he’d wanted to call Portland his home. It had taken a while to feel comfortable in his new city, but even with all the rain, it had a way of growing on him. And now he couldn’t envision living anywhere else. Not even when he went back to California to visit his folks.

He made his way from the garage into the house and went straight for the kitchen. Everything gleamed and the air smelled like pine, reminding him the cleaning service had been there earlier that day. He tossed the jacket he held over the back of a kitchen chair and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He drank half of it down in one go. The burger had been damn good, but he was paying the price for the extra sodium he’d consumed.

Grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, he headed to the living room. Sunset had the room shrouded in shadows, but he didn’t bother turning on the light as he retrieved the TV remote from the coffee table and plopped down onto the couch. He should’ve hit the remote’s power button, but instead, he tossed it on the cushion beside him and dug the business card from his pocket. He flicked the corner as he studied the name and the phone number attached to it. And he sat like that until the room grew so dark, he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore. Tossing the card on the table, he scooped up the remote and clicked on the TV, angry with himself.

He had the season mapped out. Play hard. Win more than lose. And make it to the Super Bowl. Nowhere in that plan was there room for a woman, no matter how intriguing.

“Is everything set for next Saturday?” Colt grabbed a bottle of water from the center of the round, conference table and sat down in one of the swivel chairs. He’d arrived at the corporate office of Colt’s Kids straight from practice and had yet to rehydrate. He cracked open the bottle and took a long drink.

“We will be,” Pam, the charity’s administrative assistant, said. “We’re just waiting on Lender to give the final tally on the food vendors.”

Colt glanced around the table at the three other employees. Colt’s Kids was still small and very informal. Everyone wore jeans and t-shirts. “Where is Lender?”

“Parent-teacher conference.”

Colt nodded. Family always came first. “Did we get enough volunteers to set up the game booths?”

Cindy, their operations director, answered. “More than enough. Between our staff and the group of volunteer students from the college, we can have things set up in a matter of hours.”

“Perfect.” Colt polished off the last of his water. “Anything else that needs my attention?”

“Hank calculated our quarterly report,” Pam supplied. “Figures are down another five percent. This will be our last fundraiser until the end of your season, and he’s worried we’re not going to meet our projected earnings.”

“Don’t worry about meeting obligations. I’ll put money in if I need to.”

“I know you will, but you shouldn’t have to. There’s got to be a way to raise more awareness.”

He did have a way, and the card with the solution was burning a hole in his pocket. He thought about pulling it out, passing the responsibility off to someone else, but something stopped him. Or should he say someone. He was just given the excuse he needed to give IV Technologies a call.

After all, it was for a good cause.

Ivy

The ringing of her phone pulled Ivy’s concentration from the article she was reading on P. Colton—or Colt as she now knew he liked to be called. She’d become borderline obsessed with uncovering all there was to know about the guy since her run-in with him the day before.

After the accident, she and Jason had still gone to the movies, but even though it had been one she’d been dying to see, she’d had a hard time paying attention. Her thoughts kept drifting to Colt. Understandable as she’d had only one other accident in her life—and that one hadn’t been her fault—but it was more than that. Her reaction to him boggled her. Instead of worrying about her insurance rates going up and how she was going to come up with the deductible to get her car fixed, she’d been thinking about the play of his muscles as they flexed when he shoved her business card in his pocket, and the way the hazy light had tangled with the tips of his eyelashes, making them almost glow.

Was it any wonder she’d googled him as soon as she got home? There’d been a lot of results, but she’d hit a gold mine of information to quench her thirst for knowledge when she stumbled across a P. Colton fan page. That had led her down a rabbit hole of chasing articles late into the night.

Her phone rang again, and she absentmindedly reached for it before it went to voicemail. Unknown caller was displayed on the screen. She answered using her most professional voice. “IV Technologies.”

“Ivy Clark?”

“Yes.”

“This is Colt.” Slight pause. “P. Colton.”

“Oh, yes!” As if he could see her computer screen, Ivy clicked her mouse with the speed of The Flash, killing the browser. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had a chance to call my insurance company yet.” Because she’d gotten sucked into the life of P. Colton. And darn it, nowhere in her search had she discovered what the P stood for. Her neurotic brain needed to know.

“Actually, that’s not why I’m calling.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” Another brief pause. “I’d like to hire you.”

Well, that was… unexpected. “What do you need my help with?”

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