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“You know,” I said, eyeing him as he shelved all the clean glasses. “If you ever get tired of being a super-star NHL goalie, you’d make one hell of a bartender.”
Sawyer’s grin was slow and easy sliding over his lips. He put up the last glass then leaned over the bar, our roles reversed. “You know I used to tend at a place in Seattle. Helped pay the bills.”
“And look at you now,” I said, sinking onto the barstool before him, content to play this game.
“Yeah,” he said, that familiar weight returning to his gray eyes. “At least we’re winning again.”
“I figured you had a healthy dose of winning and losing in college. Shouldn’t the swings hurt less now?”
“Maybe,” he said, sighing. “Maybe it wouldn’t hold as much weight if I hadn’t moved my mom all the way out here. Hadn’t uprooted her life—”
“She’s happy here,” I said. “You’ve seen her. She’s told you that. And anyone can see how damn proud she is of you.” I reached over the bar and cupped his cheek, the scruff from his trimmed beard scratching my palm. “You have to take ownership of your accomplishments, Sawyer. They’re something to be proud of.”
He leaned into my touch, nodding. A blink and the seriousness in his eyes was gone, replaced with question.
“What?” I asked, dropping my hand.
“Have you ever wanted to do anything else but be a bartender?”
I bit my lip to stop my smile.
“I mean,” he continued. “I know you said you and your dad always dreamed of opening a bar together. Do you still want to? I think you’d be good at it. You practically run this place. I may even know a recently wealthy hockey star who would sponsor such an investment.” The last words were part tease, part truth, and it made my heart swell in my chest.
Stop. No strings.
But friends? That was easy with Sawyer. In fact, before the sex, and hell, even after, he was one of the best friends I’d ever had. Friends were easier. Safer.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked when I’d done nothing but grin at him.
I turned my gaze to the empty bar, my eyes trailing over the custom finishes, the scythe hanging over the shelves of liquor, and back to Sawyer.
“When my father passed away suddenly,” I said, speaking around the familiar lump in my throat. “He left me with some considerable money. I guess after losing my mom and my sister, he realized how unpredictable life was and took precautions…for me.” I swallowed hard and ran my fingers over the smooth black granite bar. “It took me a while, as you know, to come out of my grief. But when I did?” I smiled, not ashamed of the happy tears in my eyes. “I’d heard about Silas Asher bringing an NHL team to my backyard. Once I knew the name of the team, I knew what to do.” I raised my hands to indicate the building. “Scythe is my baby.”
Sawyer’s lips parted. “No shit?”
I raised my brows at him.
“I mean, yeah.” He blinked a few times. “That actually makes perfect sense. You’re always here. You constantly direct the staff…” he tilted his head. “Wait,” he said. “You’re always calling the owner a bitch.”
I shrugged. “I can be a real bitch sometimes.”
Sawyer’s laugh was loud and full, and it made butterflies flap in my stomach like I was a sixteen-year-old girl.
He came around the bar, sitting on the stool next to me. “Why keep it a secret?”
“I tell a select few people,” I said, tracing invisible circles on the granite. “But for the most part? It’s no one’s business. If someone can’t respect me and like me as a bartender, then they’re not worth telling I’m an owner.”
“Valid point.” Sawyer nodded as he glanced around the place. “Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?” he asked, his eyes on mine. “You have a family of six kids I don’t know about or fight crime in a costume?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “No other secrets,” I said. “Definitely no kids.”
He tilted his head. “You don’t like kids?”
“I don’t mind kids,” I said.
“But…”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ve lost everyone, Sawyer. My sister. My mom. My dad.” I snapped my fingers. “Just like that. And that pain? I own it. It did things to me. Turned me into something none of them would be proud of for a little while. But I got out. I made it through it. But the idea of ever putting a child through that…” I swallowed hard. “I’d rather not have kids than subject them to the pain of losing me one day.”
Sawyer furrowed his brow, his eyes calculating as he surveyed me. Likely putting two and two together—love, and all things associated with it, are dangerous for me. Terrified me.
