Soon though.
Someone will be sick or injured or just need a rest day to prevent an injury, and they’ll get their shot.
My work is done.
I need to go up to bed.
But I’m delaying, knowing that I’m just going to lay there, staring up at the ceiling.
Thinking about Damon.
Ugh.
Dumb as hell. I sigh, down the rest of my beer, and startgathering my papers. There’s nothing to be done about it. I’ll take a long bath, do my best to turn into a prune, and hopefully the soak will make me drowsy enough to drift off.
Not likely.
But we have a skate in the morning and the game in the evening. If I’m not tired enough to sleep tonight, I’ll definitely drop off tomorrow night.
Exhaustion for the win.
I shove everything in my bag, start to toss it over my shoulder.
Only, I don’t make it that far.
Damon’s there.
My heart flutters before I have a chance to lock it down.
And then he’s tossing my bag overhisshoulder and turning around, saying, “Come on, Red.”
I blink. Once. Then twice.
But he’s walking away, weaving through the tables and chairs like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Hell, maybehedoesn’t.
But I’m getting really fucking tired of him giving me an order and just expecting me to follow.
Of course, I can’t do anything about that right now. He’s already in the freaking lobby, heading for the elevators, and…my freaking room key is in the bag he commandeered.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter.
But I follow.
Because I have no fucking choice.
I reach him just as the elevator doors slide open with a soft ding. He glances down at me, half his mouth hitched up, then lifts a hand, indicating I should precede him.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” I mutter as I step on.
The other half of his mouth curves. “Not something I don’t already know.”
He jabs at a button and since it’s my floor, I don’t comment.
I just keep scowling at him.
“I see you got those walls locked down tight, baby,” he murmurs as we start heading up.
