I guess, given I’m his captain and eight years older than him, I should have some words of wisdom.
“Stop fucking everything that moves,” I reply.
“Helpful,” he says dryly.
I run a hand over my jaw. “The easy thing to do would be to keep quiet since I doubt she’ll say anything.”
Archer hums. “She begged me not to say anything when I confronted her this morning. They’re getting married in three months, and this is her first indiscretion … apparently.”
If he were standing in front of me right now, I’d likely have my hands around his throat. God love Archer Moore—he’s one of the nicest guys I know—but he can be really fucking reckless sometimes, especially when it comes to women.
I think about reaming him out for yet another one-night stand with someone he barely knows, but I stop myself when the image of Collins—who I now know as Collins Mackenzie—lying beneath me as I rolled my hips into her, flashes through my head.
I take a breath just as Alyssa knocks on the window, and I raise a hand, acknowledging her.
“The right thing to do would be to say something to Shane. You played with him for a number of seasons, and he’s a good guy. He deserves to know what happened. Wouldn’t you want to be told before you got hitched?”
“I guess,” he replies quietly.
I start back for the house. “And once you’ve cleaned that up, call the team doctor and bring your STI test forward. It’s possible she lied when she said she hadn’t played away before.”
“I’m never hooking up again.”
I smirk—that’s something I’ve heard him say a million times before.
My hand is resting on the patio door when he speaks again.
“Anyway, you can’t judge me. I’d bet money you got into it with Collins last night.”
I bristle, tongue swiping across my lip. I swear I can still taste her. “Wrong on two counts. I’m not judging you, and I spent last night alone.”
He sounds doubtful. “It’s okay to admit you like someone, you know. Maybe even move on with another person.”
I depress the patio door handle, ready to wrap up the call. “Just focus on getting your mess cleaned up. I’ll see you at morning skate.”
CHAPTERFOUR
COLLINS
“Did you manage to fix the transmission issue with the Twin Cam 88? The owner reported the gearshifts aren’t as smooth as they should be.” Cameron sits at his desk, forearms folded across his chest, waiting for my response as I stand in his office.
I got the job atSmooth Runningalmost a year ago after I was fired from my old place for invoicingAsshole Taxto a customer who totally deserved it. At that point, I was ready to leave New York and move on to somewhere else, but then I landed a job here—a garage specializing in Harley servicing and refurb—and it was an opportunity I couldn’t turn down.
Only, in retrospect, I kind of wish I had backed out of taking the job so I wouldn’t have hooked up with the guy sitting in front of me. Cameron is a grade-A asshole and, unfortunately for me, now my boss. Though he wasn’t when we were messing around.
After a couple of times with him, I realized the error in my ways—he was definitely a selfish prick who didn’t much care for my needs in bed.
And if I’m not getting off with a guy, what’s the point?
So, I ended it, and shortly after, he was officially promoted to service manager—though, unofficially, I like to think of him as Head Dickface.
It’s only a matter of time before I bill him with an Asshole Tax too.
I stand at the entrance of his office, smiling sweetly. There are two chairs in front of me, but I have zero intention of taking a seat. “Yeah, I finished up on that before I left yesterday. The customer plans to collect it in”—I check my watch—“a half hour.”
Cameron leans back in his chair, eyes raking over me. I force back an eye roll. I mean,seriously? I’m wearing dark blue overalls, which are basically more black from oil streaks—a little like my hands right now.
“And what about the service that was pushed back to lunchtime?” He swivels to his computer, unlocking the screen.