“Ah,” she says, seeing the reasoning behind it. “Okay, so if we can get those records, I can compare. That would let us know when we’re looking for something, even if we don’t know what we’re looking for yet.”

“I’ll do that tomorrow and see if I can put a rush order on it so we can get some answers before the Widow Horne gets her panties in a bunch again.”

With a plan in place, I can see Zoey psyching herself up to leave. That’s why she came here, after all. The rest was unplanned and spontaneous, and awesome.

“I guess I should go?” It’s a question, showing her hand that she’s not as interested in running as she thinks she is.

“Or you could stay?” I offer, knowing she won’t.

“I can’t. I should get home . . . to Jacob, I mean,” she says, stumbling to find an excuse. Even though I’m pretty sure her . . . family member, I guess . . . would totally understand.

“I understand. I’ve got to be up at sunrise anyway. Running with Trey,” I reply. It’s a weak excuse, honestly. I would skip every run, every morning for the rest of my life if it meant waking up with Zoey in my bed, and Trey would absolutely agree that it’s a good trade-off. He’d give me shit for going lazy and soft too, but he’d understand.

But there’s a time to let pressure build and a time to let it off. And right now, Zoey needs to have that safety valve. She stands, and I stand with her, taking her hand in mine. I trace a line on the back of it with my thumb.

“Tonight was . . .” I search for a word that will describe it while not scaring the shit out of her but come up empty. Gorgeous, powerful, best of my life, and I haven’t even been inside her yet . . . yeah, those have RUN written all over them for this woman.

“Incredible,” she offers, and I nod. It’s good enough.

“Definitely.” I smile, and she gives me a soft, sweet one back. “I’ll text you in the morning and then later, after I see what visiting the doctor nets us.”

She nods and looks up at me. I bend slowly to kiss her once more. It’s deep and hungry, the fire building easily, and I could take her again. I want her . . . on my fingers, on my tongue, and eventually, on my cock.

But too soon, she pulls back from me, her hands crinkling my shirt.

“I should go.”

I nod and walk her to the door. I manage to give her one more sweet peck and whisper, “Till tomorrow.”

She leaves and I watch her walk down to her car before I shut the door, and true to my word, I whirl and lean up against the wood. I should wait until she’s actually pulled away, but I can’t hold back any longer. My cock’s already in my hand and I’m jerking furiously as I remember what she felt like . . . sounded like . . . tasted like.

It only takes a few strokes, and I come on my hand, grunting out her name to the empty room. I’m still rock-hard, could go again and again with my thoughts of Zoey, but as I sag against the door, I hear quiet footsteps on the walk out front and then a car door.

She came back.

She listened.

She heard me.

I should be embarrassed or afraid it’ll scare her off.

Instead, I think I’m a little closer to breaking down her walls, and I give myself one more stroke.

Chapter 14

Zoey

I look at my phone, still not quite believing what I’m seeing. He texted me. I don’t know why I thought he might not when he said he would.

Isn’t that what guys do? Get a little and then ghost?

Holly says it is. She says it’s step five of her ‘F system’. Find, Flirt, Fun, Fuck, Fantom.

She doesn’t let an inconsequential thing like proper spelling stop her.

But Blake didn’t exactly get much, not until I was standing on the other side of the door, listening like a creeper. I’d tiptoed back up when I saw his door close, just to see if he was being honest. And he definitely was.

I hope he didn’t hear me sneaking away.

That would be mortifying.

I am in so far over my head that I don’t even know what to think, and that’s just about this whole Blake situation. Add in a mystery that the professional in me doesn’t like leaving unanswered, despite what Jeff thinks, and I’m mentally flittering around like a firefly on crack. I need someone to talk me down, bring me back to Earth and reality.

Still in bed, and definitely not staring at Blake’s good morning, beautiful text, I call the one person I know will tell me the truth, whether I want to hear it or not.

“Hello?” Holly’s frantic voice answers. “Hang on.” She pulls the phone away, but only slightly, to yell, “If you’re out of bed, knock on the wall three times.” I assume she’s talking to Olive because I’ve heard this test before. I’m quiet while I wait for Holly to listen for the answering knocks. “Love you too, honey. Now get a move on. We’re out the door in thirty minutes.” Coming back to the phone, and me, Holly says, “Sorry. What’s up?”

I’m having second thoughts about making this call, but she’s the lesser of two evils. The worse option being Jacob’s graphic, too-personal interrogation. Although having a male opinion might provide insight about what’s running through Blake’s mind, but really, it’s his penis I’m thinking more about. And I can’t have adult relationship conversations with Jacob about my own sex life, though I’ve had the condom talk with him multiple times and unquestioningly restock the bathroom when I see the stock getting low.