“Because I need to know how serious this is getting. Also, because I’m nosy.”
My gaze snaps right back to my computer.
What bothers me most about her innocuous question is that it bothers me. Plain and simple.
I’ve never been a person who gets weird about the status of relationships. Actually, I prefer there not to be a status more times than not as of late. Sticking labels on things you know from hello isn’t going to last seems … unproductive. Trippy. Dumb.
But this thing, whatever it is, with Wade, is anything but normal.
Rusti props her feet up on a chair and sighs. “So it’s that serious, huh?”
“No. It’s not serious at all.”
“Liar.”
I slam my computer lid with more disrespect than its price demands.
“Look,” I say, using my best stern voice, “I don’t know what it is. Okay? That’s why I called you this morning and left before he woke up.”
She narrows her eyes as if she’s deciding whether to believe me.
“What do you want it to be?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” Exasperation oozes from my words. “He’s not … He’s complicated.”
“They always are.”
I sigh. “I mean it, Rusti.” I try to come up with a way to explain it. “Wade is … Wade. He’s calm and controlled, right? But there’s a really sweet side of him too. Like, for example, he has this little niece who’s just a doll, and she’s obsessed with him. So I go looking for him last night, and where was he? Holding her while she slept.”
Rusti clutches her chest. “Aw.”
“I know,” I say. “And then last night, he took me down to his office and showed me some drawings he’d been working on. For me, by the way. But then we started talking about my grandfather and that whole mess, and he … he was sweet.”
“So do you think he likes you like that? Like could this be something between you?”
I laugh quietly—more to myself and out of disbelief than anything—and avoid Rusti’s gaze.
Do I think it could be something between us? I don’t know.
“You had all of these reasons why you weren’t doing this,” she says. “I’m just reminding you of that.”
“And you had all of these reasons you weren’t going back to Zack again too.” I lift a brow. “When is he coming over again?”
“He’s asleep at my house right now, but that’s not the point.”
I laugh.
“So this guy is worth you forgoing your whole spiel about how you needed to stay focused on yourself and tend to your healing heart?” She shrugs. “If you say yes, I’m in. But if you stutter around, I’m keeping him on as the DH.”
I furrow a brow. “A DH? What’s that?”
“Designated hitter. Zack loves baseball and has been teaching me stuff.”
“Okay.”
I get up from the table with nowhere to go. I meander around the table, around the kitchen island, and back to my chair again. It gives my brain a chance to think without Rusti staring at me.
Is Wade worth it?
He’s my catnip, for crying out loud. He’s all of the things I like in a man. But that also means it won’t end well because those men don’t settle down—at least not with me.
But there’s a little blossom of something, hope maybe, in my belly that makes me want to say yes—that he is worth it. I think he could be someone who treats me with respect and kindness and fun. And I think I could be a partner for him who thinks what he does for a living is cool, could support him, and remind him to ease up on himself a little bit.
And I wouldn’t mind riding his face regularly, either.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Rusti asks. “You’re blushing.”
I wave her off, and I certainly don’t tell her. Not that she doesn’t put two and two together, but I’m not saying it out loud. Because as soon as I do that, this thing with Wade will be over. I’m almost sure of it.
“Your phone is ringing,” she says, pointing at my vibrating device on the table. I pace over and pick it up. “Hello?”
“Hello, Dara.”
Wade’s voice is warm and smooth … and also sleepy. It fills me with the warmth of being in his bed with his arm around me.
“Good morning,” I say, feeling him out. “Did you sleep well?”
“Until nine thirty.”
I gasp like I’m shocked.
“Very funny,” he says. I know he’s smirking. “Thanks for the donuts and the note.”
I turn away from Rusti and grin. “Are you being facetious?”
“Me? Never.”
I laugh. “I’m sorry I snuck out. I didn’t want to wake you, and I had a ton of edits to do this morning and then a photo shoot tonight. It’s a retirement party or something, which is really odd to include a photographer, but whatever. They paid a deposit.”
The line goes silent.
“Wade?”
“Do you go to those things alone?” he asks, his voice hollow.
“Yeah. Usually.” I pause. “Why?”
He clears his throat. “I’m just curious. Is that safe?”
“I’ve done this for a decade, and it’s been fine. I don’t book things that feel off.”
I think he says okay, but I’m not certain.
“What are you doing today?” I ask, redirecting the conversation.
“Working.”
“You’re kidding! I’m so surprised.”
He chuckles. “Smart-ass.”
“Better than having a smart ass.” I run a hand along the curve of my butt. “Speaking of—my behind is a little sore from you smacking it.”
He doesn’t say anything. And as the moments pass, I start to flush.
Did I say the wrong thing?
Oh, hell. I just said that in front of Rusti, and she’s not going to let that go.
“Rusti is here,” I say. “I probably need to go and make sure your pal Cleo isn’t in my trash or something.”
“Sure. Yes. Of course. I just wanted to make sure that you made it home all right.”
My cheeks break out into a full-blown smile. “I did. Thanks for checking.”
“Have a good day, Dara.”
“You too, Wade.”
“Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and turn around. Rusti is staring at me.
“Stop,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just a … thing.”
She hums. “I’m sure.”
Me too.
I think.
TWENTY-NINE
WADE
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I search my briefcase again. Then my pockets. Then the middle console of my SUV for my office keys.
No luck.
“What the fuck?”
I always, without fail, toss them into my briefcase at the end of the day. I really only need them to get into the side door. Otherwise, I have to walk in the front and parade through the lobby on my way to my office.
People are very chatty in the mornings.
Since I have no clue where they might be and really no other choice, I gather my things and head for the main entrance.
The lights are already on, thanks to the cleaning crew that arrives as early as I do on specific days. It saves me from going back home and getting my spare set of keys.
I yank on the door handle and step inside. And then stop.
Eliza is sitting at her desk looking as bewildered to see me as I am too.
My brows shoot to the ceiling as the door swings shut with a pop behind me.
“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Mason.” She withdraws her hands from her keyboard and stiffens. “I didn’t expect to see you so early.”