Free Off the Record by Sawyer Bennett

up with some. I’m a single guy. It’s what we do. But I’m safe, and I’m cautious as to who I’m with, and I’m damn selective. If you have a problem with that, fine...write about it. But don’t paint a picture of me that’s inaccurate.”
    He finishes and stares at me to ensure that I am comprehending what he is saying. I’m stunned by his speech. I don’t know if it’s his words, or his tone of voice, or hell, maybe it’s the fact that he admitted to fucking that woman...hard, but for some reason I believe he is being completely transparent with me now. Linc isn’t trying to make me believe he’s a saint. He’s admitting to me that he’s not.
    I’m starting to think I may have judged him too harshly. Reluctantly, I have to admit it’s becoming clear to me that the one woman who claimed she gave him a blow job was lying. It’s also clear to me that the woman I saw him with probably had the time of her life and there’s a small part of me that wonders what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Linc Caldwell’s hands.
    It’s now my turn for a bit of honesty...and humility.
    “I’m sorry. It’s just...Friday night, you had asked me out, but then within a few hours of me turning you down, I was under the mistaken impression that you were sexually involved with two other women that same night. It made me think the worst of you.”
    Linc doesn’t say anything at first, whisking the eggs with a fork. When he finishes, he sets the fork aside and looks at me. “Just so you know, had you accepted my dinner invitation, I would not have hooked up with that woman. I’m pretty singular in my pursuits. But that’s something we’ll never know, will we?”
    My jaw drops just a little. He sounds so genuine and coming on the heels of his honest confession just a few minutes ago, I want to believe him. However, my internal instincts—the ones that are used to me getting screwed over by men—are yelling at me to be wary of his words.
    I’m going to play it safe and choose to listen to my gut right now.

 
     
     
     

     
     

     
    After we finish breakfast, Ever insists on cleaning the kitchen and that’s fine by me. It’s the same deal I had with Nix when he lived with me. While she’s cleaning, I go over my workout schedule with her.
    “I try to run five miles at least four to five times a week. I usually will go first thing in the morning when I wake up or early evening before it gets dark. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I work out at the gym, and I’m usually there two to three hours. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’ll do something different like inline skating or mountain biking, just to get some activity but not necessarily for a hard workout.”
    Ever turns to me from the sink where she is scrubbing the omelet pan. “What do you expect me to do while you’re working out, which apparently seems to be a good chunk of your day?”
    “I expect you to be by my side every step of the way. You’re going to get a bird’s eye view of what it’s like to be a professional athlete. I figure you can drive my car behind me while I run, and you can count my repetitions at the gym for me.”
    I expect her to balk at this. She’s going to be bored to tears watching me work out every day, and the small part of me that’s still a tiny bit angry with her stands up and claps over my deviousness.
    Instead, she surprises me. “Do you mind if I run with you?”
    “Not at all.”
    “And can I use the gym facilities where you work out?”
    “Sure. I’ll get you a membership. There’s a training facility in Tarrytown, New York the players can use but I prefer just going to a local gym here for convenience. I only go to Tarrytown once I’m ready to get back on the ice and that won’t be for a few weeks.”
    She goes back to scrubbing the pan and I just watch her movements. I wasn’t lying when I said she looked hot in her glasses. There is something about a smart woman that does me in. I mean, I know