Page 105 of Dirty Pucking Player

He did say he missed me…but is that enough?

Maybe not to make a relationship. Maybe not to solve all the problems between us. But it’s enough to tell me I’m doing the right thing by going to him now.

I pull open the door and turn to lock it behind me.

You’re doing the right thing, Greer.

My heart believes it, but it may take some convincing of my mind. It’s a good thing I have a four-hour flight. God knows I’ll spend it replaying every moment we’ve spent together for the thousandth time and questioning everything we’ve ever said to each other.

I turn toward the driveway and almost run smack into a tall, wide body standing behind me on the porch.

27

GREER

“Oh!” I jerk back and glance up into the face of the man in front of me. It takes a second before I recognize our equipment manager. After only ever seeing him in the work context, having him standing on my porch throws me momentarily. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

He flashes a smile and glances down at my suitcase with wide brown eyes. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

A bad time? What in the hell is he doing here?

I point toward my car in the driveway. “I’m just on my way out. Heading to the airport.”

His eyes narrow on me, and he fists his hands at his sides. “Where are you going?”

That’s not really any of your business.

And I’m not about to tell him about Bash.

Bob said he put a lid on any potential scandal or fallout from our relationship, and opening my mouth now would only worsen the situation.

“What can I do for you, Steve?” I scan the street behind him. “And how do you know where I live?”

As the equipment manager, he shouldn’t have access to anything that has my personal information on it. The only ones in the organization who would are people in HR and Bob.

Unease creeps over my skin.

The smile that seemed so friendly from him only moments ago seems somewhat forced now. “I needed to see you. I thought maybe after you got the flowers, I would hear from you.”

“The flowers?”

What the hell is he…

Oh, my God.

The flowers. The cupcake. The keychain.

S.

I assumed they were all from Bash…Sebastian, but thinking back, he never actually said anything about sending them. He never acknowledged them or confirmed I received them. He never asked if I liked them or if the cupcake was delicious. He didn’t reference the single flower and the night we spent together before it appeared on my desk.

We never discussed the gifts.

Because he didn’t send them.

“You sent me all those things?”

Steve’s lips curl into a sneer. “Of course, I fucking sent them! Who the hell else did you think would send them to you? That douchebag Bash?”

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