Page 22 of One Kind Goal

Her face softened. “You don’t?”

Sawyer shook his head then took a risk with extreme honesty. “The idea of some other dude touching you makes me a little feral.” His hand fisted by his side. Aside from knocking guys around on the ice in the name of the game, Sawyer didn’t do violence. He could envision himself getting good and riled up, however, if someone else made a play for Morgan.

“I can be exclusive with you,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

He didn’t have to think about it. “It is what I want. I know we have some kinks to work out in terms of being able to actually see each other, but when this hockey season is done in a few months, I’ll have lots of time. I’d like to spend that time with you. In the meantime, we have video chat and potentially a few meetups if we can get it to work out.” He drew in a breath. “What do you say?”

“I say okay.” She beamed a smile that lit her entire face and if he could dive right into his phone to be where she was, Sawyer would.

They chatted for a while longer then reluctantly, they said goodbye. Sawyer made a quick stop in the bathroom then flopped onto the bed again. He rolled to his side, but he wasn’t tired. He should have been. Tonight’s game had required him to be on for a long time. His body and his mind should have been shot.

Instead, Morgan agreeing to be exclusive with him pinged around in his head. Theoretically, being exclusive when they didn’t have a good plan to be able to see each other with any consistency was ridiculous. On some other level, however, not wanting to see anyone else but her was totally natural. Some level Sawyer had never been on before. Some level he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

But he wanted to be.

He rolled to his other side, but sleep was a million miles away. He half considered texting Brett to see where the team was celebrating, but he decided maybe a walk would settle him better. He pulled on jeans, a thermal shirt, his boots, and his jacket and made his way out of the hotel.

The cold night air instantly hit him and he zipped up his jacket, wishing for a scarf. It wasn’t the scarf that he wanted though. He wanted the woman who was currently the Keeper of the Scarves. God, he hoped something would work out that would land them in the same city soon.

Sawyer picked up his pace, deciding that moving would heat him more. He took a left out of the hotel and walked along the semi-circular driveway until he reached the sidewalk lining the street. While everything was wet with a few patches of ice from a cold rain earlier in the evening, there wasn’t any snow around and Sawyer found himself wishing for some. Spending time gathered around that outdoor fire in Vermont while snow covered the woods around them had been nice. Winter weather had this weird ability to bring out the cozy in full force. It gave a man a reason to snuggle.

Morgan made him want to snuggle around the clock. Of course that wasn’t possible, but it was a nice thing to dream about.

Sawyer looked both ways down the rather empty street. He chose to go right because that direction went uphill a bit. Perhaps he could tire himself out. If an entire hockey game hadn’t, he didn’t have high hopes, but it was the only strategy he had at the moment.

Within five minutes, he had a nice pace going and the fresh air was cleansing. He continued for another five minutes then turned around to head back to the hotel. His body was appropriately fatigued and his mind was more settled now. Sleep would come. He was sure of it. He was also sure his dreams would once again include Morgan.

He avoided an icy section of sidewalk by stepping off the curb for a few moments. The street itself was coated in a crust of ice as well so he slowed his pace and navigated with caution.

A squeal of tires behind him made Sawyer jump back onto the sidewalk. He turned to look over his shoulder, his mouth dropping open when a pickup truck swerved around a corner. It gained control after doing a near one-eighty, and Sawyer released the breath he’d been holding. That driver should slow down if the street was that slick.

Sawyer continued walking, but a horn blare made him nearly piss his pants. When he turned around again, he had only mere seconds before that truck’s front grill connected with his body.

****

Morgan sat at her laptop in the library on the second floor of the New York estate she shared with her sisters. She’d shared it with Austin too when he wasn’t off filming and before he’d married his wife, Charlie. The newlyweds still came to stay now and again, but mostly they resided in a pretty grand log cabin near Brenton Mountain in Maplehaven. After their on-air wedding that followed their win on a survival TV show, Austin had purchased the Vermont property and he’d been working with Charlie to turn it into their home. He’d promised to keep paying for the New York estate though and Morgan knew he did it out of a sense of duty to take care of his sisters.

A total nice guy move, to be sure, but maybe a bit too generous. Austin made it easy to kick back and let him pay for stuff. He’d been taking care of Morgan and her sisters for way too long. Claire and Brooke were still having fun living their carefree lives, but Morgan wanted more. She wanted to be more.

Her gaze focused back on her laptop where yet another job site was up on the screen. She’d combed through thousands of postings, but she seriously had no employable skills. When she listed the things she liked, they included fashion, dancing, trying new foods, and decorating the New York estate with rare and expensive antiques. None of the jobs she’d seen had anything to do with any of that. When she thought about her strengths, phrases like finds fun wherever she goes and looks good in a formal dress came to mind. Again, not strong work-related traits.

“C’mon,” she grumbled. “You are college educated.” Of course her major had been Art History and she’d barely squeaked out of those four years with a diploma. Being a student wasn’t her thing. Never had been. Her father had helped her with math homework when she was in elementary school and they’d both been in tears by the end of it.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn some skills now. Yeah. Maybe she was thinking about this job thing from the wrong angle. Perhaps learning some new shit had to happen first.

She opened another tab on her computer to do some poking around, but a headline on her home page caught her attention.

RI Anchors star Sawyer Lundin Hit by Truck.

Morgan’s stomach twisted and her hand shook a little as she moved to click on the headline. She scanned the story and words like rammed and injuries jumped out at her. She popped off her chair and carried her laptop out of the library.

“Claire! Brooke!” She needed someone else to see this with her.

Brooke appeared in the hallway after stepping out of her room. “What’s all the ruckus about, Morgan?”

“Sawyer . . . he . . . a truck . . . he’s . . .”

Brooke was by her side in three long strides. She grabbed the laptop and guided Morgan back into the library, pushing her into a seat again. “Easy now. What’s going on?” She squinted at the laptop, her eyes instantly widening as she sat in the chair next to Morgan’s. “Oh, shit.”