Um… Hayes has been home for an hour. They got in earlier than expected.
I glance at the door that’s still shut.
Shit.
Get out now.
As I read Leighton’s text, I hear a beep from the condo door and the lock slide over.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I panic and look around the room then rush toward the bathroom, but I trip, catching myself on the breakfast bar stool before I fall.
The door opens, and Foster stands on the threshold with Stephie peering around him.
Well, this is awkward.
Chapter
Eight
Foster
* * *
I’m taking my own advice.
I have to do something because all these thoughts of Callie aren’t going to get me anywhere. Hayes made his feelings clear—I’m not good enough for his baby sister.
And I’m not even upset about it. He’s right. All it would do is fuck up our friendship and our team when I’m inevitably done with her or she wants more than I’m willing to give.
Just like Pen back in college. I swear women come out of their moms’ wombs wanting to fix a man. Well, there’s no fixing me.
So I did what every red-blooded male would—I called Stephie. I’m going to fuck Callie out of my system.
After Becca shared her news, I spent most of my time in San Diego with Hayes, exploring the city and doing tourist shit. It was cool to hang with him again like we used to when we played together in Seattle, which only convinced me even more that Callie is completely off-limits if I want my friendship with Hayes to remain intact.
While in San Diego, I texted Stephie and asked her to meet me for a drink after I landed.
We’re off tomorrow, so it’s the perfect time to go balls deep in a woman as many times as I can in one night.
She was more than eager, which I assumed she would be, and was already waiting at the bar when I arrived.
We had one drink, but she seems to be just as into the sex thing as me. Her exact words were, “I’m not looking for anything other than a few tickets and telling people I’m fucking you.”
Works for me, so I paid for the drinks, and now as I’m putting in my code to the security gate, there’s a sourness in my stomach that says this is a very bad idea. But I’ve ignored that feeling many times before in my life. What’s the harm now?
The minute the security gate shuts behind us and only the concrete stairs are between us and my bed, I regret my decision even more.
“Oh, I’m behind the gate. Millie is going to be so jealous. She got mad at me for making her leave the club that night.” She’s on me like we’re in a three-legged race, and my throat closes up.
“I’m sure Easton wouldn’t mind her phone number.”
“Really?” Her excitement is palpable.
I inhale deeply, wishing this didn’t feel like pulling out my teeth. I step onto the first step, and somehow it feels like I’m heading down death row. “All the way up.”
“Tell me who lives where.” Stephie’s arm is linked through mine because apparently, she can’t move more than two inches away from me.
