Chase opened the door before she even had a chance to knock.
“Hey boss, what’s up?” His voice was cheerful but his gaze darted all over the place, never landing on her.
“Cut the crap. I know.” She crossed her arms. “Give me the portfolio.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The jittery body language intensified as he rocked on his heels and he fidgeted with his hands.
“Yes, you do,” she snapped. “You’ve been inking my designs on other people. Sawyer’s cop instinct led him right to you but I never thought it would be true.”
A flush ate its way up Chase’s face and he puffed out his chest. “He’s full of shit.”
The lies, the denials, the bullshit, she’d had enough. In a heartbeat she was just done with it all. She wasn’t mad or sad or bitter. Those emotions would come flooding back no doubt, but for now she was just numb. “We put a GPS tracker in the portfolio. We know it’s here. Just go get it.”
All pretense melted from his face, revealing the insecure, desperate boy behind it. “Let me explain, Penny.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You lied. You stole. You pretended to be something you’re not.”
His shoulders drooped and he sighed. “Hold on.” He disappeared from the doorway.
Sawyer put his hand on the butt of the gun holstered to his thigh.
But when Chase reappeared all he had was her portfolio. He handed it over without a word.
Penny took it and turned, needing to get to the safe darkness of her car’s interior before the numbness melted, exposing her raw emotions. Dozer, she would have expected. Even Savannah had her days, but Chase? He just wanted to learn, he swept the floors after closing and calmed down nervous first timers. She’d never expected it to be him, not in a million years.
Sawyer’s hand on the small of her back as they walked to her car comforted, but the betrayal stung too deep for his touch to ease it completely.
“Penny,” Chase called from the porch. “I’m sorry.”
Her fingers paused on the door handle. “Sorry doesn’t always cut it. You’re banished from the studio, don’t let me see you there again.”
She got into the car and started it up, needing more than anything to get home and crawl back into her bed and fall asleep with Sawyer’s arms around her.
*****
Sawyer couldn’t think of anything to say on the way home that didn’t sound like it came out of some stupid soup for the soul book. Before he knew it, they were in the condo elevator headed back up to their floor.
“Hold the elevator,” someone shouted.
Sawyer stepped forward and slid his hand between the closing doors, triggering them to open back up. It wasn’t until he saw D’Andre sprinting across the lobby that he’d wished, he’d pretended not to hear. His gut twisted. This wasn’t going to end well. He loved his friend like a brother, but he was about as subtle off the field as he was when he was sacking quarterbacks on it.
“Hey man,” D’Andre hustled into the elevator. “How’s it going with the hot redhead?”
Penny stiffened behind him.
Shit. This was going to be an epic disaster. Sawyer shot his friend a death glare that said shut-the-fuck-up in screaming silence.
“What’s your deal?” D’Andre looked over and must have noticed Penny because his eyes grew wide.
Sawyer could practically see the wheels turning in his friend’s head. It was after midnight. He and Penny were in the elevator. The smell of sex still clung to them both. It had been years since he’d executed a perfect tackle, but he was ready to revisit old times if it would shut up D’Andre.
“Damn, man.” His friend whistled. “Looks like I’ll be paying up on that bet, I never thought you’d win because she totally out classes your sorry ass.”
Penny zipped around him, anger pouring off her in waves. “What bet?”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Hand on the small of her back, Sawyer practically pushed her out of the elevator before D’Andre could enlighten her. Brain going ninety miles an hour, he tried to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t piss her off more as they quick-stepped it down the hall. He had to tell her something—anything—or he’d lose her for good. She’d banish him from her life just as quickly as she’d dismissed Chase.
They made it about three doors down the hallway before she dug in her heels and jerked to a stop. “What bet was he talking about?”
The rims around her eyes had gone red, along with the tip of her nose, but he couldn’t blame this on her betraying employee. No. This was all his fault. He should have told her everything before he’d slept with her—hell, before she’d given him a tattoo. Really, he should have never taken that bet.
“It was just a dumb bet.” Wanting more than anything to reach out to her and draw her closer, but knowing she’d probably knee him in the nuts if he did, he shoved his fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“What, that you’d sleep with me?” She laughed in his face. It was a cold, brittle sound, so unlike her laughter in the tattoo studio earlier today. “Was that what this was all about? Is this why you volunteered out of the blue to help me?” She paused and smacked her palm to her forehead. “It was! I should have known but I was blinded by charm and abs. What a fucking idiot am I.”
Shame. Pure, burning cold shame rushed through his veins infecting every part of his body until he dripped in it. “It wasn’t that I’d sleep with you, only that we’d go out on a date.”
She glared at him and then turned on her heel and stormed down the corridor to her front door. Not knowing what to say but knowing he had to stop her, he ran after her.
“Please, you’ve got to listen. You’ve got to know how sorry I am.” He was begging and he didn’t care. This thing, this connection, between them was new and fragile. He didn’t know where it was leading but he had to protect it, and the only way to do that was with the truth. “That stupid bet was the reason why I initially offered to help, but after we talked and I saw how much catching the thief meant to you, there was no way I could walk away.”
“Really?” She didn’t bother to look at him as she shoved her key in the lock of her front door. “I find that hard to believe.”
He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up so she had to look at him. She had to see how this was tearing him apart. “Why?”
“Because I have no problem walking away from you.” She shook off his hand, unlocked her door and stepped inside. “Try not to make so much noise with one of your club girls tomorrow night. Some of us need our sleep.”
Before he could say another word, she slammed the door in his face. As a series of thumps sounded, one for each lock, he watched the peephole. If it stayed dark, that meant she was just on the other side of the door. He still had a chance to talk to her, to plead his case.
“Penny.” Her name left his lips, half in prayer, and then a light appeared, singing through her peephole and he knew she was gone.
He’d lost her before he ever really had her.
Chapter Eight
The next night, Sawyer sat on his bed with his ear pressed to the wall that separated his bedroom from Penny’s, listening for any hint that she was home. It was fucking pathetic, but he couldn’t think of another way to get through to her than by talking.
“Honey, are you there?” he asked.
Silence that punched him right in the gut.
He tapped on the wall.
Nothing.
“Please. I know you’re there. I heard you earlier.” He thunked his forehead on the wall. This isn’t creepy at all. I’d totally want to date me right now. “I’m sorry. None of this is coming out right. Penny, just give me a second chance. You won’t regret it.”
Nada.
He settled back into bed and flicked off the light. “Goodnight,” he said to the wall. “Hope to talk to you in the morning.”
*****
Alone in her dark bedroom, Penny barely dared to breathe, which made the whole crying sniffling thing a lot harder on her. But she wouldn’t answer him and she refused to answer him or let him hear her cry. God, she was crying. She didn’t cry when she found out her mom had been lying, she got mad. She didn’t cry when she found out the whole scholarship to art school had been a lie, she’d done her best to prove she was supposed to be there. She didn’t cry when she realized that someone she trusted at Daring Ink had been stealing her designs, she’d set her mind to figuring out who it was.
But now she was crying. For him. For a man she barely knew.
According to logic, Sawyer’s betrayal should have hurt the least. The fact that she was fully dressed, laying in bed with a pillow over her head to muffle her tears didn’t make one bit of sense, so she did what she always did at times like these: She went to work.
By the time the lunchtime lookie-lous started coming into Daring Ink, the tattoo studio was blindingly clean. The metal sparkled. The leather gleamed. The glass appeared nonexistent.
“Oh my God, did you have to cover up a murder? This place reeks of bleach.” Staci ambled into the studio and tossed her purse down on the formerly pristine display case. “And you look like hell. Do we have Mr. Tall, Blonde and Buff to thank or to punch for this?”