“A thrift store?” Bishop’s eyebrows shoot up.
“She likes thrifting. Finding broken things.” I shrug, not knowing how to explain Sutton’s passion for chipped teacups without making it sound weird. But it’s not weird. It’s beautiful the way she sees value in things others have discarded.
“You were outside a thrift store,” Sebastian prompts.
“Yeah. We were talking, and then she just—grabbed my shirt and kissed me.” I pick up a piece of sandpaper just to have something to do with my hands. “I mean, yeah, I was a little caught off guard by it. One minute we were thrifting and…I think…flirting…and then the next minute she’s grabbing my shirt and kissing me and then BOOM. Walls back up and her armor was on.”
“So, she’s got issues,” Killian announces.
“Don’t we all?” I snap more defensively than I mean to.
“Hey.” Kill raises his hands. “I’m not judging. God knows we all have our own issues. I’m just stating facts.”
I sigh, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I know she’s guarded. I can see it. Hell, I can practically feel the weight of whatever she’s carrying. I even asked her who hurt her,” I admit, staring down at the partially sanded table. “And I think that spooked her.”
Bishop whistles low. “Bold move.”
“I didn’t ask for details,” I clarify quickly. “Just…acknowledged that someone or something clearly did.”
“And what did she say?” Sebastian asks.
“Nothing. But her eyes…” I trail off, remembering how vulnerable she looked at that moment, like she was fighting against herself. “Fuck, she didn’t have to say anything.”
Killian jumps down from the counter and grabs another beer from the shop fridge. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
Three sets of eyebrows rise simultaneously.
“Guys, I’m not pushing her,” I tell them, my stare meetingeach of them one at a time. “She has to set the pace, right? I’m not going to be the guy who forces her to tear down walls she built for a reason.”
Killian tilts his head. “And if her pace is glacial?”
“I’ve played in worse conditions,” I tell them, earning a bit of a laugh.
Bishop studies me a moment longer. “You’re serious about her.”
It isn’t a question. “Yeah. I like her.” I glance down at the wood grain under my hand. “She’s different from…”
“From the kind of women who usually make themselves available for people like us?” Killian smirks knowingly, and I nod.
“Exactly. She doesn’t see me as a professional football player. I mean, she’s keenly aware, don’t get me wrong. There’s a financial block there for sure. But she doesn’t judge the human being I am based on my job.”
Sebastian grins. “So, in other words, yes, he likes her.”
“Shut up.”
Killian steps forward, inspecting the table frame. “You building this for you?”
“Yeah.” My brows furrow wondering why he’s randomly changing the subject.
“Looks solid.”
“It will be.”
He meets my eyes and the implication is obvious.
Of course it is.
