For some reason he’d been just about as pissed as that when he’d seen that asshole with his hands on Amber. Without thinking, he’d jumped off his stool and rushed over there. He hadn’t meant it to turn into a brawl, but he definitely hadn’t backed down when the fucker’s shithead buddy came at him. Jesus.
“Fuck, man, snap out of it,” Rupper said to him. “You’re tamping our fuzz.”
“Should prolly just go home,” Duncan mumbled.
“Yeah, might be a good idea. You need a cab, though.”
“Yeah.” Even drunk, he knew better than to drive in this condition.
“We’ll get your truck tomorrow.”
Something occurred to him about that…but then it was gone. “Okay.”
“Come on, Armdog, I’ll pour you into a taxi.”
Duncan grabbed his jacket and tried to not stagger as they walked out of the bar. He took one last look for Amber, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Out on the street, the sharp January air washed over him and he dragged it into his lungs. Rupper hailed a cab, then provided Duncan’s East Monroe Street address to the driver. He slammed the door shut and held up a hand in a wave and Duncan slumped down into the seat.
Not one of his better Fridays. Going home alone, boiled as an owl. Thank fuck they didn’t have a game tomorrow, though they did have an afternoon practice. Then he had a stupid charity event to go to.
He didn’t mind some charity events. Giving back to the community was a good thing to do and he was happy to contribute, but this one was some big fundraiser that involved a fashion show. Shit like that was so far out of his comfort zone, it might as well have been happening on Mars. Melissa had been supposed to go to it with him, but now he was dateless. He wasn’t really looking forward to another lame stag night out. His roommate, Duper, was going and bringing Duncan’s sister, Lovey, of course, and Jared was bringing a date too.
Once home, he fumbled out some bills to pay the cab, rode the elevator to his condo on the fourteenth floor, and entered his home. Judging from the quiet, it was empty. Just as well. Duper had been spending more time at Lovey’s tiny little apartment and that was fine with Duncan. He was getting used to seeing them making out all the fucking time, everyfuckingwhere, but he did not want to risk the chance of overhearing them having sex. Seeming to understand this, Duper often spent the night at Lovey’s place.
It was kinda weird to be alone so much. He’d gotten used to having his best bud around, someone to watch TV with or arm wrestle with. Also, he was a slob and Duper liked to keep things clean, so that was handy. Although Ruby, his housekeeper, also helped with that.
He stripped off his clothes, fell face-first onto his bed, and promptly passed out.
—
Elliott told Amber she could leave early after the incident with those stupid drunk guys. And the stupid drunk guy who’d come to her rescue. It irritated her so much that she’d been about to end up in that guy’s lap and Duncan had saved her. She did not need to be saved. She’d been looking after herself for a long time. She was more angry than hurt or upset, but it was nice that her boss was concerned that she’d gotten hit in the face. She’d worked in a lot of places where nobody gave a shit.
She got her tips, her purse, and her jacket, and left. Her old beater of a car was parked in the lot behind the Sin Bin. When she reached into her purse, she pulled out a set of keys and frowned at them. Shit. These were Duncan’s keys. Oh my fucking God. What else could go wrong tonight? Did she really want to go back in there and face him again?
No.
Yes.
She sighed. She had to give him his keys back. She could trust that his friends wouldn’t let him drive drunk. Right?
Fuck no. They were all pro athletes, all of them tossing back round after round with an unlimited tab, brawling in the bar, gorgeous puck bunnies hanging around. They probably didn’t give a shit. She knew more than one pro athlete who’d been charged with driving under the influence—lots more than one, sadly—and she could name at least two who’d died in drunk-driving accidents.
She was keeping the damn keys. Then she’d know for sure he was going to get home safe.
Why she cared, she had no idea.
Well, that was callous. She may not like him, or his type, but she didn’t want him to die. Or kill someone else.
She dropped his keys into her purse and found her own.
She’d get his keys back to him tomorrow. She wasn’t sure how. She wasn’t scheduled to work, but possibly she could call the Sin Bin and see if someone there knew how to get hold of Duncan. Clearly he was a regular there and a teammate of the owner of the restaurant. She’d figure it out.
When Amber let herself into the Lincoln Park apartment she shared with Easton, she found him sitting on the couch making out with another guy.
“Yikes.” She held up a hand, averting her eyes. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Easton pulled away from his friend with no urgency, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re home early, boo.”
“Yeah. My boss sent me home before my shift was over. We had a little, uh, incident.”
Easton frowned. “What happened?”