Page 29 of Imperfect Player

“Spit it out, Thurston,” I tell him.

I’ve lived here for five years. The man is one of the few people I trust. So why in the hell does he look so nervous around me now?

“I don’t want to alarm you, sir.”

As if that statement isn’t alarming in and of itself.

“What is it?”

Thurston blows out a breath. “Someone came in today, asking questions.”

“Questions about what?”

“You.”

“Probably just another reporter, Thurston. Someone trying to get—”

“I don’t think so, sir,” he says. Worry fills his voice.

The hang-up call from the other day pops into my head.

It’s just a coincidence, I tell myself.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You didn’t tell them anything, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then we’re good. No worries, man.”

“There was just something different about this man. Something almost . . . familiar.”

Thurston is an exceptional doorperson and an even better man. Still, some days, I think the job might be getting to him.

“It’s fine. If anything else happens, just let me know. For now, nothing to worry about.”

As much as I try to ease Thurston’s nerves, my own get rattled. The call. Now the visitor. Both unknown.

The part that I think stuns me the most is that the person who came here was a man. A woman, out for revenge? Makes sense. A man? Aside from the press, I can’t imagine who he might be.

Then I laugh.

Fucking hell. Here I am getting all worked up because some guy came to my building? Some guy whose wife I probably inadvertently fucked? I don’t check wedding bands. There isn’t one on my hand, and that’s all that matters to me.

Now it all kind of makes sense.

Baker looks at me like I’ve lost my mind as I laugh to myself.

As I rub his head, I think of Everly’s assumption. I pictured you as more of a cat guy.

I chuckle again.

My phone pings. I pick it up and smile when I see Everly’s name on the screen.

When I open the text, a photo of Everly fills the screen.

It’s a selfie. Not a dirty pic, or even remotely naughty. It’s just her smiling, looking happy and relaxed. Sexy as hell too even though I know she’s not trying to be. She can’t help it. She’s gorgeous. The kind of woman that sets your body on fire and makes your dick stand at attention with nothing more than a look.

Me: Fucking gorgeous.

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