Page 46 of Conflict
Me?
Nope. Not even for a split second.
Still, it’s not like I’m going to start talking her at work, so I try other methods of hopefully running into her.
That’s why I’m currently in Sawyer’s office, trying to schedule a round of golf.
“Couldn’t we have done this over the phone, Wellington?” he asks, tapping his pen on his desk impatiently.
I shrug, feigning indifference. “I’ve been scouring over contracts all week and I needed to stretch my legs. Since you’re not that far away, I thought I’d just stop in and ask if you were available. Two birds, one stone.”
Sawyer sits back and stares at me as if I’m a stranger and not someone he’s played golf with once a month for the past three years.
“Who is she?” a teasing, feminine voice asks behind me.
I turn toward the pretty brunette standing behind me, the door to Sawyer’s office open. I give her a wry smile. “Now, Cheyenne, why would you think there’s a woman involved? It’s just us men playing golf.”
Her brow rises as she walks around her fiancé’s desk. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she gives him a squeeze. Then she picks his cell up and waves it at me.
“Now, Shane, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve walked into Wellsley-Callahan.” She holds one finger up. “The first time, it was because Sawyer shared on Instagram the bottle of whiskey I bought him.”
Ah, fond memories of that whiskey. Hey, when a guy sees a photo of a hard to find whiskey, he does what he can to get some. “What can I say? You have fantastic taste in scotch.”
Sawyer looks to his fiancé, then back at me. “I was only trying to show everyone what a fantastic girlfriend you were.”
She rolls her eyes. “You were bragging to your Insta-friends.”
I interject. “As said Insta-friend, I took it as an invitation. I’d walk through fire for good scotch.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she responds then places a hand on her hip. “Now, you’re here under the guise of scheduling golf. A lame excuse, Wellington. Plus, there was that mystery girl in the lobby whose name you’d never tell me. Tell me the truth. Who’s the girl?”
I could make something up. I could brush her off. I could. Yet I don’t. “Alyssa Covingt—” I barely get her name out before Sawyer stands, placing his fists on his desk and staring at me with unamused eyes.
“No.”
It’s one simple word. One simple word I hate.
“Uh…”
“No,” he reaffirms. “I don’t know—and I don’t care—what your game is here, Shane, but Alyssa Covington’s a good girl, and you’re not going there.”
I’m about to protest when Cheyenne places her hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. “Sawyer, when have you ever known Shane to mistreat a woman?”
He scowls. “Never. He hasn’t kept one long enough to treat her in any way.”
That’s fair. And accurate.
Cheyenne’s eyes meet mine. Then she places herself at his side, her hand resting on his shoulder. The interest in Sawyer’s expression has me wanting to leave, but as Cheyenne guessed, I have plans here.
“Babe, isn’t that how you were before we reconnected?” she asks, and damn, I have to give it to her. She’s got balls.
Sawyer’s scowl tells me she’s right.
“Sawyer, I admit, I’m a bit of a commitment-phobe.”
His scowl deepens. Wrong thing to say.
“What I meant is I never planned to settle. The women I was with knew it. Now?”
