Page 26 of Play Book

Because I’m going to stop by the gallery on the way home from practice, see if she needs help, see if she needs…anything.

“Hey. How was your date last night?” Marty meets me at the lockers while I’m pulling on my equipment.

I shake my head. “It didn’t go the way I planned, that’s for sure.”

He cocks his head, curious. “No? Weren’t you taking Saylor out to dinner?”

“Yeah. But?—”

“Were you with Saylor last night?” Gabe interrupts, coming over to join us. “Were you with her when she got the call about the gallery?”

I nod. “How’d you know?”

“I guess she called Harper this morning. I was walking out the door, so I didn’t hear the whole story, but Harper was planning to rally some of the troops and go over there to help her clean up.”

“What happened?” Ivan asks, walking over to us.

I give them a quick overview, leaving out the part about how we were half-naked in her kitchen when she got the call.

“So you were together?” Marty asks.

“I’d just brought her home from dinner,” I reply. “Her security firm called, and we turned around and went right back out. She was pretty upset, so I didn’t want her to drive.” I’m also not going to mention she’d been without a car since the plan had been for me to sleep over. Why I’m suddenly worried about her reputation is beyond me, but I don’t want to delve into that right now.

“You guys are dating?” Gabe asks in confusion.

“It was a date. Singular. But what was I supposed to do—just leave her in the middle of a crisis like that? And thank fuck I stayed. I mean, what that ass wipe wrote on the wall…” Shit. I don’t want to say it, but they’re going to find out anyway.

“What did it say?” Marty asks, frowning.

I hesitate, hating to put it out there.

“How bad is it?” Gabe asks.

“Whore.” I say the word in a flat tone of voice. Quietly. Trying not to give the guy who wrote it, whoever he is, any power over Saylor. Especially not here in this room.

“Oh, fuck.” Gabe looks horrified. “Saylor is the nicest, sweetest lady…”

“She was so embarrassed,” I say. “I just wanted to hurt someone for doing that to her.”

Marty glances at me. “Feeling a little protective, are we?”

“Come on. She’s one of our boss’s friends. She’s friends with a few of us on the team, as well as wives… hell, she’s extended family. And like Gabe said, she’s so damn sweet. If you’d seen the look on her face, believe me, you would’ve felt protective too.” I’m man enough to admit to having these kinds of feelings. Romance is different, but protecting someone who’s been hurt? Fuck that. They can bite me if they find it emasculating.

“Does she need anything?” Gabe asks. “I should ask Harper. We could go by after practice if she needs some muscle to move things, hang pictures back up… I don’t know the extent of the damage.”

“There wasn’t a lot of damage,” I say. “They made a mess of the back counter, threw flyers all over, stuff like that. I think one painting had some spray paint on it, but we don’t know if they took anything. She didn’t have a chance to do inventory last night. And I haven’t talked to her today.”

“You going to call her after practice?” Ivan asks.

“I was planning to swing by the gallery. See if she needs help cleaning up.”

“I’ll come with you,” Marty nods.

“I’m in,” Ivan agrees.

“Let me text her first,” I say. “We don’t need ten guys showing up and she’s not even there.”

“Good plan. Let us know.” Gabe claps me on the back before heading to his locker.

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