Page 7 of Hot Rucking Canadian

“I can’t stay.” Another whisper.

It licked its paw, still staring.

I didn’t like the idea of leaving the door unlocked, especially given how soundly Marshmallow slept, but the building had security, this was a pretty safe neighborhood, and I had a sneaking suspicion the cat would gouge out the eyes of any would-be troublemaker.

So I saluted said cat, opened the door, and slid out, leaving the deadbolt unlocked.

The entire ride home, I questioned that decision. Everything fromshould I have cleaned him uptowhat harm would it have been to stay the night?

Answering the first was easy—yes, I should’ve been more considerate.

The second was a bigger challenge. I didn’t stay the night. Guys didn’t invite me to. I was more than accustomed to getting on my bike and heading back to my eastside apartment.

As I flew along the Georgia Street viaduct, and worried about stupid city drivers, I considered a longer ride. Along Hastings Street and maybe to the highway. Somewhere I could let go.

Except I didn’t have a death wish, and driving at night was even more dangerous than driving during the day.

A friend of mine got taken out a couple of years ago. Fucking pickup truck turned left in front of him, even though the light was green. My friend died on impact and the driver had his license taken away for a couple of years.

Life sucks.

And then you die.

Alone.

Like my mom had.

Which was not a thought I was going to entertain tonight.

I made it home safely, stowed my bike, and headed up to my place. Once inside, I settled with a beer, turned on the television, and tried to settle in.

Ten hours later, I awoke with a crick in my neck and the Saturday-morning news show blaring.

I had no more answers now than I’d had last night.

Chapter Four

Isaiah

“Well, someone got lucky last night.” Johnnie grinned.

I surreptitiously glanced around the locker room.Is he talking about me or is he sayinghegot lucky last night?

With him, it could go either way.

Johnnie was an oversharer. Truly. The man didn’t know how to shut up. And since he gotluckyseveral times a week, we all got to hear about his successful conquests.

His word, not mine.

He grinned widely.

I blew out a breath of relief.

He slapped me on the back. “Okay, who’s the lucky bloke, and when are you going to introduce us?”

Aw shit. Spoke too soon.“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He grinned—all golden-blond hair, shimmering dark-blue eyes, and a healthy tan from the summer sun. The man was so damn handsome, it hurt to look at him.

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