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“We won.” He followed her, curious about her demeanor and her unwillingness to look him in the eye. “You didn’t watch?”
She shook her head. “Did you score?”
“Yep,” he replied, even though he didn’t really want to talk about the game.
That response seemed to trip her up, as she paused for a moment, frowning. “Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be taking a victory lap with Mindy.”
Mindy had certainly thought so, texting him about five seconds after the final buzzer.
Blake had finally done what he should have done a month ago, telling her their arrangement was over. He simply wasn’t interested in her anymore. It had been fun and games and good orgasms for a while, but her sudden clinginess had opened his eyes to all the things Erika had been pointing out for months—like the woman’s high-pitched, grating giggle, her flightiness, her lack of drive or ambition. Mindy had worked at least half a dozen different jobs in the year he’d known her and been unemployed for the last month, claiming she couldn’t find anything that was the “right fit.”
His teammate Victor—the grumpiest fucker on the planet—was convinced Mindy was hoping Blake would put a ring on it, so she could spend the rest of her life as a trophy wife.
“I called it quits with Mindy.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” he said.
“And how did she take that?” Erika asked.
Blake sighed. “Truthfully, I’m not sure she believes I’m serious.” He’d expected some kickback from her, but all he got was a breezy promise to see him soon, as if he hadn’t just told her that he didn’t want to continue their affair. Which meant, he was going to have to go through the process of brushing her off again. Maybe he would just block her number instead.
Erika gave him a quick glance over her shoulder before turning back toward the fridge. “Water?” she offered. “Or wine?”
“Water, please.”
“I didn’t think you and Mindy were an official item, something that you needed to actually call off.” She pulled out a bottle of water, then grabbed an almost-empty wine bottle, pouring what was left into her glass.
“We weren’t, but she was starting to see a different future for the two of us, one I’m not interested in.”
Erika’s eyes were downcast as she put the bottle of water on the kitchen counter in front of him. However, now that he was closer, he could see her face—and he understood why she’d been avoiding his gaze.
He reached across the counter, gripping her chin, tilting her head upward. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. “Have you been crying?”
Blake had known Erika nearly three years, and he’d never seen her cry. Not once. Given the things she saw on a day-to-day basis during her tenure in the ER, he figured she had a reason to fall apart at least once a week, but she never did.
“No,” she lied, twisting her head to break his grip. “Allergies.”
“Liar. It’s not allergy season. You’ve been crying.”
She walked around the island, out of the kitchen, and back to the living room, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “I’m fine, Blake. I’m just tired. In fact, I think I’m going to call it a night.”
It was an obvious attempt at dismissing him, and also a lie, considering she’d just refilled her glass. If she wasn’t so upset, she wouldn’t have even bothered trying to get rid of him because she knew as well as anyone that he was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something.
Rather than take her hint, he put his water next to her wine, then reached for her hand, pulling her down next to him on the couch. Corky lifted her head from her end, her sleepy eyes blinking at them a few times before she shifted positions and went back to sleep.
“Blake.” Erika attempted to stand again, but he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, keeping her down.
“What happened?”
She resisted his grip for a few seconds more before relenting. “Just a bad night.”
“At work?”
She nodded then—finally—met his gaze. “I’m fine,” she repeated again.
“You trying to convince me or you?”
