His voicemail was probably some self-righteous bullshit about how I shouldn’t be making out in hotel bars. Like he was one to talk—I’d seen him with Fake Boobs McGee in the same bar.
I almost decided not to listen but thought better of it. What if there was an issue with his room? The last thing I needed was him running to my dad with a story about my poor job performance.
Bracing myself, I hit the play button.
Cal’s rough voice sounded through the speaker. “You think it’s funny to tease me, Hannah? To make it so I can’t get hard after watching some loser put his hands on you? I have wasted too many years watching you, wishing I could be the one making you scream. Well, guess what? I’m done. Get the fuck out of my head.”
Stunned, I dropped the phone.
Was this a joke? Was I being punked?
If he hadn’t said my name, I would have thought he had the wrong number.
He sounded off. Was he drunk when he called me? I knew all too well how alcohol acted as a truth serum.
When had I teased him? And he couldn’t get hard because he was thinking of me?
This was all too much to process.
I almost missed the bus to the arena.
Holed up in my room, I’d played Cal’s voicemail on repeat all day.
I still didn’t understand. Cal and I were fire and ice. We fought like cats and dogs, always had. He brought out the worst in me, and I in him.
Was I supposed to believe he was interested in me? All this time? Unlikely.
This wasn’t like Jaxon and his crush on Natalie while she was married—everyonecould see it. Cal made it no secret that he couldn’t stand me. He went out of his way to provoke me.
Climbing the stairs to the bus, I about jumped out of my skin when Cal’s enormous body was sitting in the front seat.
He eyed me as I threw a hand to my chest in hopes of calming my racing heart. “What’s your problem?”
Well, that settled it. Shaking my head, I convinced myself he had meant that voicemail for someone else. He’d been drunk and must have said my name by mistake.
“Nothing,” I muttered, walking down the aisle until I found an open seat.
Sinking down with a sigh, I told myself to forget the voicemail. I should probably delete it since it wasn’t meant for me in the first place. But as I pulled my phone out and stared at the red trash can button, I couldn’t make myself do it.
I couldn’t help wondering what woman had the high-and-mighty Cal so twisted up.
No, you know what? Forget him.
He was getting what he deserved with the way he burned through women faster than a sick kid went through tissues.
We needed to get through tonight’s game and get home. We’d been on the road too long, and my mind was clearly fried.
Back in my sanctuary, I could focus on more important matters than Cal and the woman who’d spurned his advances.
Buzzzzzzz. Buzz buzzzzzzz.
Who was calling me this early in the morning? Mumbling about the ungodly hour, I reached for my phone, frowning when the caller ID showed Amy’s name.
Sliding my finger across the screen to accept the call, I put the phone to my ear, asking, slightly alarmed, “Ames? Everything okay?”
“Where the hell are you?” she whisper-hissed.
“What?”
