“Perfect.”
I left a message for Flynn as soon as I got home from work telling him to expect us that evening. And then, since I had a couple of hours to kill before I changed and headed to the saloon, I decided to take a sketchpad and a glass of wine and head up to the patio.
I was sketching Evan’s face from memory when the intercom on the bar buzzed, followed by Peterson’s cultured voice. “Mr. Black is here. May I send him up?”
I pushed the button to reply. “He’s here? Or he’s on the phone?”
“He’s standing right in front of me.”
My pulse quickened. “Send him up.” I stood and started pacing. I was so damn eager that I felt like a fool. He’d been gone less than twenty-four hours, and I felt like he’d been away for a year.
In other words, I had it bad.
In other words, in about a week, I was going to be royally screwed.
Dangerous. Yeah. Evan Black was as dangerous as they came.
I heard him push open the door, and I sprinted that direction, only to skid to a stop when he emerged, looking relaxed and windblown and sexy as hell.
I wanted to stand there and soak in the wonder of him. I wanted this moment, when it was just the two of us, and no secrets and no threats.
Then he held out his arms and I collapsed into them, overwhelmed by the sudden, inescapable feeling that this was like coming home.
Except it was only an illusion.
I knew the surface of his secrets, but only what he’d revealed to me and only as an allegory. And while I’d been telling myself that was okay since I was leaving—that it was for the best, even—the truth was I wanted more. I wanted so much more.
Because I’d realized that it wasn’t the fantasy I’d spun about Evan Black that gave me that thrill I craved so much—it was the man himself. His presence, his humor, his tenderness. Even his secrets.
And all I wanted in that moment was to know him. To really and truly know him.
“What is it?” he asked, stepping back to take a good, long look at my face.
I half-laughed. What was it I’d said? That he saw me? Apparently, I’d been dead on the money with that one. There was no keeping things hidden from this man.
I wanted to beg him to tell me his secrets, but I was desperately afraid that if I asked he would say no. And I didn’t want to face that, not right then. Not when he’d just walked through my door.
And so I kept my own secret, hiding my real needs behind a false smile. “It’s nothing,” I said. “Just that I didn’t expect you tonight, and I already have plans with Kat and Flynn at the pub. But I can break them.”
“Don’t do that. I’ll go with you. Cole wanted to grab a drink tonight anyway. I’ll tell him to meet us.”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t help my smile. It felt so nice—so normal—to be planning an evening out with friends. “What about Tyler?”
“Tyler thinks that you and I are a bad idea.”
I nodded, my chest feeling unwelcomely tight. I loved Tyler like a brother and hated this feeling that I was disappointing him somehow. “But Cole doesn’t?” He sure as hell hadn’t been the picture of support at Destiny.
The corner of Evan’s mouth quirked up. “He thinks we’re a bad idea, too. But he also knows you’re leaving soon. He said we might as well get each other out of our systems while we have the chance.”
“I see.” My stomach felt like it was filled with rocks. “Well. There you go. I always knew Cole was a smart guy.” My smile felt wobbly. “A fling before Washington. Almost sounds like the name of a really bad movie.”