Page 60 of Blindside Sinner

I look away in disgust. The table is littered with Besalu goodies. Cups and bags and crumbs everywhere. The bastard is a pain in my ass, but I won’t lie—baked goods are a pretty damn smart way to steal a woman.

I scowl and remind myself to be mad. “You promised me you wouldn’t go after her.” I keep my voice low because I don’t know where Sloan is at right now and I don’t want her hearing this conversation. If she does, she’ll go off on some fresh new rant about it being her life and her decision who she talks to and sees and does anything else with. I can hear it now, and it makes my head hurt.

“I’m not going after anyone.” He sighs and rubs his face. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s a good person, and I just want to be her friend.Her friend.That’s it. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You aren’t doing anything to me. I have no idea what you think is going on here. She’s just a damned good assistant and I don’t want to lose her.”

He laughs again. “Anyone in a thousand-mile radius who watches you watch her can see how torn up you are over her.”

“What?” I scoff. “You’re crazy.”

“Beck, I’ve seen you with any number of women. The one relationship you had—” I start to shake my head, but he holds up his hand. “Just listen. In the year you were in a relationship with Viv, I never saw you jealous. Never saw you give a single shit about who she talked to or what she did.”

“I amnotjealous over Sloan.”

“It’s alright, Beck. There’s a woman out there somewhere who’s going to make me act foolish, too.”

“I’m not acting foolish over her and I’mnot fucking jealous.”

“Sure you’re not.” He laughs and points at my face. “Go look in a mirror, dude. Your nostrils are flared. That vein in your forehead is throbbing. And if I’m not mistaken—and I’m pretty sure I’m not—you’re standing there dreaming of ways to kick my ass into next week for even daring to talk to her. She could use some friends, Beck. You keep her working twenty-four-seven and she has no life.”

“That’s the job she signed up for,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “Besides, what do you know about it?”

“I know she’s unhappy about something. Maybe you should ask her why she didn’t sleep well last night.”

A new boil starts in my blood. “How the fuck do you know she didn’t sleep good last night?”

“I looked at her face. Simple as that. She’s got bags under her eyes that weren’t there yesterday. And she walked away from an argument with you.” He chuckles to himself. “Sheneverdoes that.”

That much is true. I sigh and, for the first time since I barged in, I let my fists unclenched.

Dixon sees it and smiles. He waltzes over to clap a hand on my shoulder. “It’s alright, Beck,” he says again. “Women make men crazy. But you know what? I’ve got a funny feeling we do the same thing to them.”

30

BECK

I don’t see Sloan until the next night when she drives me to the rink for the game. She doesn’t breathe so much as a word in my direction—although, of course, she smiles at Dix when she takes her seat behind the bench.

We’ve got the Dallas Bulls in the building tonight. They’re my favorite joke, although they’ve got a new young kid, Reese Dalton, who’s got some special shine to his game.

Reese lines up to take the opening faceoff against me. He catches my eye and points with his chin to our section. “Who’s the babe behind y’all’s bench?”

“None of your fucking business, Dalton,” I grit out.

He smirks. “Touchy, touchy. Don’t worry about me, Big Shot Beck. I’m spoken for. I was just wondering if you know how to finish an easy slam dunk or if I have to do the hard work for you.”

Before I can reply, the referee skates up and poises the puck over the spot. The crowd amps up their roar as the announcer eggs them on, but I tune it all out.

Sloan isn’t out here.

Viv isn’t out here.

My dad isn’t out here.

My past isn’t out here.

It’s just me and the ice. For as long as that lasts, I can breathe.

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