Chapter 10
Sloane seems surprised when we board my bus.
Her eyes wander every inch of the open space—the front lounge with a couch and two-seater dining table; the kitchen outfitted with a countertop stove, full refrigerator, and microwave; the hallway leading back to the bedroom with two bunks on either side.
There are two bathrooms and two closets—one in front and one inside the bedroom, and the bedroom is outfitted with a king-size bed, a flat-screen TV, and a mirror on the ceiling.
Turning on her heel, she stands in the middle of the place I call home three to four days a week and asks, “Isn’t it weird to think that Winston can hear everything you do back here? ”
“That’s what this door is for,” I say, pointing to the door my driver closes between his area and the rest of the bus.
“Having a bus makes being on the road a little easier, especially when I don’t get a break between Monday and Thursday.
I don’t have to jump between hotels every day.
I can have my own space with everything I need right here.
” My bus is my home away from home—a small slice of normalcy in a life that is otherwise anything but normal.
Brooks and Brody do the same, but they’ve had buses for much longer than I have.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sloane asks, watching me limp to the leather couch.
I’m trying to hide the pain radiating up from my heel into my calf muscle, but I must not be doing a very good job.
I wonder if it’s the way my jaw grinds together with each step.
I refused to see Doc before we left. It wasn’t necessary.
He would only tell me what I already know.
I need to ice my leg and stay off it for a few days, which isn’t possible this week.
Two full days of training newbies at NextGen at Juliet’s request before heading to Houston for some anniversary promo filming and then flying to Salt Lake for a live event. I don’t have time to “rest.”
I knew I was in trouble the minute Grady started in on my ankle, and the minute he put it in that damn chair…Fucker. What’s his problem? He’s the one who was fucking my wife. But now is not the time to think about those two. I’ll save that for the gym tomorrow morning.
Breathing out when I sit on the couch, I look up where she still stands near the kitchen. “I’m fine. It’s just an old injury flaring up after Grady stomped on it. He didn’t exactly hold back tonight.”
“Yeah, why is that?” Sloane finally sits on the other side of the couch, legs tucked beneath her. “Is it because of Harper?”
My head falls back to rest on the top of the couch. “And how do you know about that?” Sure, I told her I had an ex, but how does she know who it is? I never mentioned Harp.
“Sophia may have let it slip that she was your ex after we ran into her tonight.” She brings her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them.
“You saw her?” I sit up straight, both feet planted firmly on the ground. When the hell did she see Harper? Shit, did she say something to Sloane?
“Well, technically”—Sloane draws out the word—“she ran into Brooks, and we happened to be nearby.”
Of course, she did. I roll my eyes. “I knew Grady was coming back, but I should’ve known she’d tag along, too. She’s probably hoping they’ll give her a new contract. Had I known, I would’ve warned you. I’m sorry. I try not to concern myself with things that have to do with her anymore.”
Sloane shrugs. “I don’t think she even noticed we were there.”
“Sounds about right,” I say, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Harper is an…acquired taste. If you ask Savannah, she would say that’s being generous. They don’t exactly get along.”
“But they’ve worked together, haven’t they?”
“We work with people we don’t like all the time.
It’s part of the job.” Kind of like now.
Being put in a storyline with Grady isn’t my idea of a good time, but it’s what the writers and Amos wanted to do.
Doing what they ask means I get to stay front and center.
Why would I do something to jeopardize that?
I can suck it up for a few months until they get bored and decide it’s time to move on.
“You suck it up and be a professional until Creative and Amos decide to switch it up.”
“What’s he like?” Sloane asks, straightening in her seat. “Amos, I mean.”
My brow cocks. “You know, you seem very interested in our boss, and in what we do. Way more than you were the first time we met.” I sit back in my seat, crossing my arms with a slight smirk. “You’re not secretly writing a story about all of us, are you?”
She chokes on a sip of water, my question obviously catching her off guard. She laughs when she finally clears it out of the wrong pipe.
“Don’t choke yourself over there. I’d hate for you to miss out on the dirt.”
“Bennett!” Sloane throws her water bottle at me, and I duck, laughing. “I’m just curious.”
Still laughing, I say, “Well, can you blame me? You are a journalist, after all.”
“I’m not writing a story about you, Wolf Bennett. But if you’re not careful, I might be. A famous wrestler is benched for good after refusing to see a doctor and reinjuring himself.”
I roll my eyes and push up from the couch, trying my best to conceal the way my face scrunches as I put weight on my foot again.
Fuck, I have to get off this thing. “I promise, I’m fine, but I do need to shower real quick before we get there.
If you’re feeling snackish, you’re welcome to anything in the fridge. ”
“You’re going to take a shower while I’m—”
“Better get used to it, Honey,” I say, bracing my hands on either side of the hallway.
“If you’re going to join me on the road, showers will be a requirement.
” Her throat swells with a hard swallow.
I’m torn between being a gentleman and asking her to join me.
The swell of her breasts peeks out from the top of her white, off-the-shoulder shirt, which exposes her shoulders and collarbones, making it hard to choose option number one.
Forcing my gaze up to her blue eyes, I lick my lips.
“No funny business, though, huh?” I wink when the crimson blush rises in her cheeks.
“I’ll be out in less than ten,” I say over my shoulder.
Stripping out of my trunks, I throw them into the smaller hamper meant exclusively for ring gear.
I’ll have plenty of time to pack on the way to the airport after we drop Sloane off at Sophia’s later.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and I will barely have time to get home and unpack before having to leave for the gym.
I could always skip my morning workout; it’s not like I won’t get a decent workout at NextGen.
That will give me a few extra hours of sleep before I have to put on a happy face for the new kids.
I breathe out a slow expletive when I step into the shower, hot water flowing down my back.
My muscles instantly relax, but as my mind begins to list through the things I need to do over the next two days, I feel them begin to tighten all over again.
I can’t worry about this right now. I need to finish up and focus on the woman waiting outside. I can worry about the rest later.
“Twelve minutes,” Sloane says when I walk out of the bedroom dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a baseball hat.
Was she timing me? I chuckle at the thought.
“You know I was thinking about something…” Her words trail off when she looks up from her phone.
I’ve seen that look before. That’s how she looked when I spotted her at the coffee shop the other night.
“You okay over there?” I ask, peering out the window to see we’re parked in the back of the Desert Roadside Diner lot. Thank God, I’m starving.
“Y-Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I just…” Sloane clears her throat. “I, um—”
“You were thinking about something,” I say, turning back around.
“Right! Right.” I can’t hold back my smile as she struggles to get the words out. “W-Where am I going to sleep?”
I assume she means on Thursday when we meet up again in Salt Lake City, but before I can answer, she continues.
“When I’m with you. On the road.” Her thoughts are still fragmented, almost like she’s dancing around a landmine. I’ve only seen her this nervous once before, in the pool house. It’s cute, and I like that she lets her guard down with me.
“You can have the bed. I’m happy to crash in one of the bunks,” I say, crossing my arms as I lean back against the kitchen counter.
Her eyes are immediately drawn to my chest before she forces her gaze to the side, looking anywhere but at me. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Unless you have other ideas.
” A smirk tugs on the corner of my mouth, and I can see the words get stuck in her throat again.
“I’ll be fine, Honey. The bunks aren’t that bad.
Brody and I used to crash on Brooks’s bus before we got our own.
But once he got with Savannah, you did not want to be—”
“W-What is this?” Sloane forces the words out.
“What are we doing, Bennett? I’m here, on your bus.
I’m going to be on the road with you in a few days, but I don’t even know what this is.
What we are. Are we dating? Are we just friends?
Are we friends with benefits? I don’t…I don’t know. Earlier, you told Liam—”
“He’s a ten-year-old kid, Sloane. What did you want me to say?”
“I don’t know!”
“Telling him we’re friends seemed like the safest option at the time.” I sigh. “Look, Sloane…I know what I want, but for the life of me, I can’t fucking read you sometimes. One minute, it seems like you want this, and the next, you’re putting the walls of Jericho up around you, keeping me at bay.”