Текст книги "The Game Plan"

Автор книги: Kristen Callihan

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“Let’s go home,” Dex says quietly.

My gaze snaps to his, and he winces.

“I’m not implying to bed. Just back to Ivy and Gray’s.” He glances at his watch—a thick, black leather one that looks more like a cuff. “It’s coming on two in the morning. Bar’s going to close down soon anyway.”

“Okay, sure.” Home sounds like a good plan. Only I want to go alone and not have to face Dex anymore. Hottest kiss of my life or not, it’s not something I can do again. Ethan Dexter could become an addiction if I take another taste of him.

Chapter Two

Dex

In the course of my life, I’ve done stupid things. Who hasn’t? But kissing Fiona Mackenzie comes close to the top of the list. Ironically, it is definitely one of the best things I’ve done in my life as well. Painfully good.

Painful now. I’ve a hard-on that won’t go away and is bent awkwardly down the leg of my jeans. I’d adjust, but I know Fiona would notice. Not much gets by her.

Then again, she’s making a valiant effort to ignore me now, her gaze set on the window at her side as we drive Gray’s old pickup back to his house.

I love Grayson. The man is worth over 25 million dollars, and he still drives his high school truck. But now I’m thinking about the fact that I had my tongue in his baby sister-in-law’s mouth, and I have to resist the urge to wince.

I shouldn’t have done it. But my brain took a vacation. I know how good I am at manipulating a situation, and I saw the curiosity in Fi’s bright green eyes. So I cajoled, enticed, all but dared her to get up close and personal with my face. Had I expected her to kiss me? Hell no.

But I’d taken one look at her in that club and wanted her to touch me, to fucking see me more than my next breath. I’ve wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on her two years ago at her sister’s Christmas party.

Even then I knew Fiona wasn’t for me. I’m quiet, like to keep to myself. Fiona is life—bouncy, bubbly, snarky life. All wrapped up in a tiny, perfect package.

I’ve often heard Ivy compare Fi to Tinker Bell. I suppose that’s accurate. Only I’ve always found the little cartoon fairy annoying, and I could watch Fi all day. Just the lilting sound of her voice entrances me. And when her nose wrinkles and she glares? Hard as a fucking pike.

Yeah, I’ve got it bad. Which is not good. I know full well she doesn’t want anything to do with professional athletes. I’d heard her say that much outright at the wedding. A girl I was interested in during college ditched me for the same reason, and I’ve no interest in getting my heart stomped on again.

Which is why I shouldn’t have touched, much less kissed, Fi. Because I can’t stop replaying it in my mind. I know what she tastes like now. And she tastes like addiction.

Gripping the wheel, I turn us into Gray and Ivy’s driveway. They bought a massive townhouse in Pacific Heights. I have to admit, I’m envious. It’s the kind of place I’d love to call home. My place is a nice but fairly empty townhouse in New Orleans. I love its high ceilings, old wood floors, and natural light. But it doesn’t feel like a home. Then again, maybe it’s because I’m the only one ever in it.

We’re silent as we pull into the garage and climb the back steps to the main floor. I’m only vaguely surprised when Gray comes shuffling out of the kitchen holding a bottle in one hand and a pot in the other. He’s a mess, his blond hair flattened on the side, his sweats inside out and backwards. Deep circles shadow his eyes.

“Hey,” he mutters. “Have fun?”

He doesn’t look as though he cares much about anything other than sleep at the moment.

“What’s the pot for, man-mountain?” Fi asks him before gently taking it from his hand.

He blinks down at it. “Right. I was going to put that in the sink.”

From a flight above comes the irate squall of a baby.

“The tiny overlord demands his due,” Gray says. But he stops to kiss Fi on the cheek. His expression lightens a bit as he pulls back. “You smell like cologne, Fi-Fi.”

Hot pink washes over Fiona’s cheeks. “I smell like a nightclub.”

“Cologne,” Gray counters as he trudges toward the stairs. His gaze lands on me. “Dex’s cologne. And don’t bother denying it. I roomed with the guy for years.”

So much for keeping things from Gray. The guy might love to joke, but he’s an outright genius, so I’m not really surprised he caught me.

He doesn’t say anything more about it, though. His shoulders slump as he starts up the stairs. “I swear to God, I’d give someone five—no ten—million dollars right now if Ivy and I could just get one solid night’s sleep.”

Fi and I exchange a sympathetic look. It might be awkward between us, but at least we can escape to our beds and sleep.

“I’m going to go earn ten million dollars,” I say to her and head for the stairs.

She follows behind. “This I have to see.”

We find Gray in a nursery that would fit right into a design catalog. I know Fi decorated it, and she’s clearly talented. Gray’s slumped in a glider trying to give his agitated son a bottle. But the little guy is screaming, his tiny fists beating against Gray’s arm.

“It’s my turn to feed him,” Gray says without looking up. “So bottled breast milk it is. He hates it. I know, little dude,” he says to the baby. “I love Mommy’s boobs too, but she needs to sleep.”

From the far room, a muffled groan rings out. “Mother guilt has killed my sleep,” says Ivy’s disembodied voice. “And don’t discuss my boobs with my son, Cupcake.”

I glance through a connecting door and see her long legs sprawled over a massive bed. Fi is short, but Ivy is a good six feet tall. At the moment, she’s totally wiped.

“Hand him over, Grayson,” I say.

Gray looks at me as if I’m nuts, then shakes his head and offers me his son. His trust is something I will never take for granted. And guilt hits me anew for touching Fi. But now I have a wiggling, screaming one month old in my hands.

Walking over to the changing table, I pull out one of the many swaddling blankets they have stacked—unused—on the shelves. Leo turns a nice shade of angry red as I wrap him up tight, tucking his arms against his body. The result is a securely swaddled baby with only his head sticking out.

Gray and Fi come to watch, clearly curious. But when I pick Little G up and loudly shush him, they both flinch.

“Dex, dude, what—”

I give Gray a quelling look and shush the crying baby again, right in his ear. Finally he hears me and abruptly quiets as I gently jiggle his little body, all the while shushing.

Ivy’s head pops around the doorway. Her dark eyes are wide with shock.

“What—”

Gray waves a frantic hand to quiet her, but I shake my head and walk back to the glider. “Don’t be afraid of noise,” I tell them. “Little man has been hearing it his entire existence. Well, until he was born and you guys started going silent on him.”

I give the baby his bottle, and he begins to drink as I rock.

Fi comes to stand next to me. “And how do you know so much about babies?”

“My little brother was a surprise. My parents had him when I was seventeen. I know about babies.”

I glance at Ivy and Gray, who are both gaping at me. “If you have a white-noise machine, I suggest you turn it on now and keep it on high.”

Gray scrambles to get it, and Ivy comes closer. “Dex, I’m this close to crying at your feet right now. Don’t ever leave me.”

“Can we share him?” Gray asks as he turns on the machine.

I get up and hand Gray the baby. “Keep him swaddled. Do the shushing and jiggling thing if he wakes. I’m going to send you some video links in the meantime.”

Ivy flings herself at me. “I love you, Dex.”

“He’s half mine,” Gray reminds her. His bleary eyes meet mine. “I’ll send you a check when I can see straight, man.”

“I took your X-Box into my room. That’s payment enough.”

Gray waves a hand as he tucks his son close to his chest. “You can have the damn thing. I still might kiss you.”

“Promises, promises.” I do give the top of Ivy’s head a kiss. She smells of breast milk and baby. But deep beneath that, there’s a strange similarity to Fi. Nothing as potent, but enough to make me aware that she’s Fi’s sister.

I am aware of Fi as well, following me out of the room. We’re quiet as we walk up the next flight of stairs to the guest level. Together. Alone.

Every touch, every slow glide of lips, tongue, fingertips. Every breathy sigh. All of what she did to me plays through my head like a footage reel.

Her cheeks are flushed now, her nipples pointing through the thin, silky ivory top she’s wearing. I want to push my thumb against one of those buds. Pull her shirt over her head and…

I clear my throat as we reach our doors, one on each side of the small landing. She hesitates, obviously searching for something to say.

I know what I’d like to say. Kiss me again. Let me in. Just…let me. I keep my mouth shut. Fiona Mackenzie isn’t for me. Hell, I can’t even tell her that what we did tonight was the single most erotic experience of my life. I’m sure it was just a strange encounter with a guy and a beard on her part.

I run a hand over my mouth, my fingers digging into my scruff. I suddenly resent my beard. It’s as if she wanted it more than she wanted me, and I can’t stand that. “Well,” I say before she can speak. “Goodnight.”

“Dex,” she says as I open my door.

I pause, my heart thudding against my ribs. But I don’t turn. I don’t want her to see my expression. “Yep.”

“Thanks.” She takes an audible breath. “For helping my sister and Gray. It means so much to them.”

Disappointment punches through my chest with the force of a lineman. I manage a nod. “It was nothing.” Which I guess sums up my entire night.

Chapter Three

Fiona

Breakfast at Ivy and Gray’s house starts at 11 a.m. Which is fine by me. After I went to bed last night, I tossed and turned far too long, the ache in my nipples and slick throb between my legs demanding attention I wasn’t willing to give. Not with Dex across the hall. Not when I’d have thought of Dex while doing it. That would only have made things worse.

As it is, I’m grumpy and chomping on a slice of buttered whole grain bread like I’m trying to annihilate it. Worse? Ivy is watching me.

Her dark eyes track my movements as I pick up my coffee and take a bracing drink. “You’re staring.”

“Well, duh.”

“Are you asking for me to ping you with this bread?” I say before taking another bite and talking with my mouth full. “Because I totally will.”

She looks semi-rested now. Her hair¸ at least, is washed and combed. And she smirks before drinking her orange juice. “Gray says you smelled like you’d rubbed yourself all over Dex last night.”

“Gray can sit on it and spin.” I swear, these two are the worst gossips.

She snorts into her glass. “Colorful. Now tell the truth, Fi-Fi. Were you rubbing yourself all over Dex?”

Like a cheap suit on a sultry day.

As if reading my thoughts, she leans her elbows on the table and gives me a sly smile. “He’s totally hot, in a bad-boy rocker kind of way. Which is weird considering his job.”

“Bashing into people?” I laugh without humor. “Yeah, totally bizarre that he looks like a bad boy.”

“Sarcastic is not a good look on you.”

I stick my tongue out at her.

“Spill, Fiona May.”

“Shit,” I drawl. “You pulled out the middle name. That’s harsh.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Unlike Ivy, I actually have a poker face. That’s one thing I learned from our dad. Never let them see you flinch.

But Ivy knows me well, so maybe I’m not fooling her. Or maybe she simply decides to give me a break, because she suddenly shrugs and grabs a slice of bread, slathering on blackberry jam.

“Dex is kind of…” She pauses, knife in mid-air. “Different.”

“Different?” Okay, I know he’s quiet. And obviously whip smart; he managed me with a deftness that scares me. But different?

Ivy sets her bread down, and her voice lowers. “He’s really sensitive. In a good way, but…Gray thinks he might be a Tebow.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘a Tebow’?” And why am I so annoyed? “You mean that whole kneeling and praying thing?”

She leans forward. “No. A virgin.”

I swear all the blood rushes out of my face. “What? No way. He’s…well, he’s fucking hot.” Okay, that slipped. “And he…” I bite my lip to keep from saying he sure as hell didn’t kiss like a virgin.

Only it’s been so long since I kissed a virgin, I’m not sure how one kisses, or if the way someone kisses is even a marker of sexual experience. I mean, sex is a lot more than inserting peg A into slot B—at least it should be.

I cover my slip with another truth. “He’s got to be twenty-four. How on earth could he be a virgin? Is it for religious reasons?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think he’s at all religious. Honestly, I don’t know why he’d be a virgin either. And it’s not something that Gray or his college teammates ever openly talked about, which is saying something.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be gossiping about it now.” I know I sound snappish, which is unfair to Ivy; we gossip about everything. But it feels wrong talking about Dex this way.

Ivy blinks as though I hurt her, and I feel worse. But then she gives a small nod as if she understands. “Look,” she says in a low voice. “I’m only mentioning it because… Hell. If you did fool around with him last night, or whatever, just be careful with him.”

I can’t help but laugh, though it hurts my throat. “What? Am I some sort of man-eater now?”

“No. Of course not. But Dex isn’t hookup material.”

“I think you should let Dex decide that for himself, seeing as he’s a grown man and all. And before you start in on me again, I’m not going to do anything with him. Jesus. We only hung out an hour at most.” And kissed like we were dying for it. “That’s all.”

Liar, liar, liar.

Ivy knows I am. I can see it in her eyes. Maybe motherhood has softened her, because she doesn’t push, only takes a sip of her coffee and goes silent.

For a long moment, I sit there, silent as well. Then my fingers start to tap on the table.

“How do you stand it?” I blurt out.

“What? Your weak little innocent act?” she asks with cheek.

I stick out my tongue. “Funny, bunny. I meant, well… How do you stand being left behind while Gray travels to all his games?”

We grew up with a dad who left his family to play professional basketball, then later as a sports agent. And we’ve dealt with it differently. Ivy is the fixer, always trying to soothe ruffled feathers.

Me? I went out and partied, cracked stupid jokes, and shut down any and all deeper connections. It’s worked so far, but seeing Ivy so gone on Gray and still she has to live this life? I don’t understand it.

Ivy’s long fingers wrap tight around her mug. “It was better when I could go with him. It sucks when we’re apart. I won’t lie about that, but…” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t know how else to explain it except to say that Gray is my heart. Life simply doesn’t work without him in it so…” She shrugs. “We do what we have to do during his season.”

“And that’s really enough?”

Her smile is almost secretive. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Gray is more than enough.”

The way she says it, like he’s the joy that begins and ends her day, hits me square in the chest, and I have trouble breathing. Loneliness is this cold, drafty thing blowing over me, making me want to hug myself tight.

How must it feel? To be a part of someone else? And they’re a part of you? Someone to have your back no matter what?

My knuckles press against the table. I should be enough for me. I shouldn’t feel lonely. Fuck. Maybe I’m getting hormonal or something.

Thankfully, I don’t have to wallow in my weird maudlin mood because the front door opens, and Dex and Gray amble in. My heart rate kicks up, seeing Dex’s massive frame outlined in the doorway.

Gray zeroes in on Ivy. “Is he sleeping?”

“I put him down twenty minutes ago.”

Baby G might not sleep at night, but he naps like a champ, a good two hours at a stretch. Something Gray knows better than I do.

He grins. “Shenanigans are go.”

Yeah, I don’t even want to know what that means, though I can guess.

Especially when Ivy blushes. “Seriously?”

“As a Hail Mary on Super Bowl Sunday. On your feet, woman. Time’s a wasting.”

Ivy grumbles under her breath about perverted cupcakes—again, don’t want or need to know—and then gets to her feet. She’s hauled off by Gray a second later. He carries her up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I got to give it to him,” I say to Dex, who hasn’t left the kitchen. “His stamina is impressive.”

“Motivation helps,” he answers dryly. God, he has a nice voice. Smooth, deep, even. “But, then, you know, we do train for stamina.”

There’s a gleam in his eyes that goes straight to my sex, gives it a teasing tweak.

I lurch up from my seat and refill my coffee cup because I’m not falling for that one. “You want a cup?” I ask.

Dex still hasn’t moved from the entrance to the kitchen. Steady as always, I suppose. While I’m fluttering around like a fool.

He nods and walks to the heavy pine farm table that sits beneath a wall of windows. The table fills me with pride because I made it. I never intended to make furniture, but my two friends Jackson and Hal are furniture designers and cajoled me to give it a try. I love creating something with my own hands, going from concept to completion.

This table was my first try, and while I see where I could improve things, the design works well here, counterbalancing the modern, gleaming white cabinets and copper-covered appliances—because Ivy thought steel was boring.

And because veritable giants live in this house, the seats are large and sturdy. Even so, Dex’s frame swallows up the chair as he sits in it.

I bring him a cup, and then I notice: he’s wearing his hair down. Holy hell. It falls in thick, brown waves to the top of his collar. The sun has left streaks of gold running through it. And while the combination of full beard and flowing hair should be too much—call to mind an iconic Jesus or something—it isn’t. It just looks hot. Wild. Touchable.

I sit and curl my fingers around my mug.

He does the same, and the late-morning sun shines through the window, illuminating his tattoos. Black and red roses, a clock, a sugar skull, an indigo dragon, a 1940s battleship—there’s a lot to look at. They run up his arms and under his sleeves, making me wonder if his chest and torso are covered too.

“Do they have meaning?” I ask, because I’m clearly looking.

“Some do.” His rich voice is almost a shock to my system, as if by speaking, he’s flicked my senses into overload. But he doesn’t notice. “Some of them just came to me while I was drawing.”

“You drew these?”

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee. “It relaxes me.”

“I like to draw too. Mostly room designs nowadays.”

“You did a great job with the house,” he says, not bothering to look around. I have no doubt he’s already made a study of the entire place.

“Thanks.”

I’d like to think we’re just making chit-chat. That we’re just like any other casual acquaintances who happen to be houseguests at the same time and place. But that’s not what’s happening. Because Dex’s gaze never leaves mine.

It’s unnerving. Hot. As if behind his light conversation, what he’s really saying is, You loved it, didn’t you? Sucking on my tongue, grinding on my cock. You want it again, don’t you?

Heat washes over me, and I struggle not to shift in my seat.

I realize we’ve stopped talking and are simply staring at each other. Every place he didn’t touch last night—every place I want him to touch—is hot and achy.

I take a deep breath. Watch him do the same.

I’m about to bolt when he leans forward, his muscled forearms sliding a bit closer. “Go out with me. On a date.”

“What?” I push back from the table. But I can’t make my legs lift me. “I thought last night was…”

“A mistake?” He slowly shakes his head. “Not for me.”

I know I’m gaping. I can’t seem to stop. “But, but…”

His eyes crinkle. In the full sun, I see that they’re a striking blend of colors—blue, green, gold, and brown—like polished agate. “Speechless?” he says. “I like it.”

My mouth snaps shut. Then promptly opens. “You like me speechless. Well, there’s a great motivator for going out with you.”

“Like that I made you speechless. That I flustered you.” He tilts his head as he looks me over. “You do the same to me. Get me all worked up. Only it seems to make me talk more than usual, not less.”

A fresh wave of heat washes through me.

“Dex—”

“Ethan,” he interjects softly. “Will you call me Ethan? At least some of the time?”

“Ethan,” I say quietly, and it feels intimate. Especially when his lids lower as though I’ve stroked his skin just by saying his name. I swallow hard. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the hookup type.”

“I’m not.” He clenches his mug again. “I don’t think you really are either.”

“No,” I admit with a small smile. “Not really. I’m looking for more now.”

Dex—Ethan—nods. “Thing is, we’re both here for the week. Ivy and Gray are in no condition to entertain. I like you. A lot. Why don’t we go out together?”

“Erm…that’s not what your proposition sounded like to me. You said on a date.”

His lush lips curl. No, do not look at his mouth. I watch his lips move.

“I did. I want to kiss you again, Fiona. I couldn’t sleep last night because I wanted that so badly.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“So, yeah, I said date. Because if you let me, I’m going to kiss you again, as much as I can.”

It’s a struggle to find my voice. “Neither of us is looking for casual. We don’t even live in the same city. I don’t date athletes. Or friends of my sister. Or—”

“Why don’t we start with what you do,” he cuts in, his gaze direct, firm. It lowers to my mouth before sliding back up to my eyes. “Do you want to kiss me again, Fiona?”

Why does he have to say my name that way? As if it’s a dare. And why is he so damn perceptive?

His eyes bore into me. “Did you think about me last night? In your bed?”

No one has ever been so blunt with me. Ever. It does my head in, giving me no place to hide.

“All I’m asking is for the truth,” he says, his big, strong body rock solid in his chair.

Licking my lips, I try to breathe. Truth? I can do truth. It’s not so hard. Right?

“Yes.”

One of his dark brows rises. “Yes to what?”

If I have to elaborate, I might expire on the spot. “Does it matter when the answer is yes?”

He smiles, and it’s like the dawn cresting over the sea. “When it comes to you, Fiona, the answer always matters. But I’ll take that as a yes to all of the above.”

The chair scrapes as he rises, and my heart threatens to pound right out of my chest. But he doesn’t approach me. No, the smug bastard just finishes off his coffee in one gulp and puts the mug in the dishwasher.

He glances at me over his shoulder before he goes. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

“Hello? What about everything that I said?”

He doesn’t blink. “Those are all fears. I respect that. But let’s take things as they come and see what happens. Okay?”

“Okay.” That’s all I manage. This guy makes my head spin. He’s just so reasonable. I don’t have any defense against it. Against him and his damn sexy self. Damn it.

“Good.” He gives me that smile once again. “Dress warmly. It’s cold out today.”

“You’re kind of bossy,” I call after him. “You know that?”

He stops and looks back at me. “Apparently only with you, Cherry.”

I don’t say another word, just watch his tight ass move beneath his jeans as he walks away.

“Well, fuck me,” I mutter. I’ve been played. Again.

Dex

It’s official: I’ve lost my fucking mind. After spending the night basically staring up at the ceiling, I’d decided to leave Fiona alone. Be polite. Retreat into my shell. A safe and solid plan.

One that crumbled like sun-dried turf the second I saw her sitting in the kitchen, the morning light glowing like a nimbus around her golden hair. She was so beautiful she made my heart hurt.

Sharing a cup of coffee with her, watching those lovely full lips of hers move as she made idle small talk with me was more than I could take.

I want Fiona.

Badly.

Enough to ignore certain fears and go after her. But I’m so out of my element that a tremor goes through my fingers as I run them through my hair and gather it up in a knot.

Frowning, I comb my beard and stare into the mirror. My beard is a part of me now. How everyone sees me. Hell, it’s why Fiona kissed me. And I have the urge to shave it off. Shave my hair off too. I honestly don’t even know what I’d see reflected back at me if I did.

The door opens, and Gray saunters in as if he owns the place. Which he does. But still.

“Knocking, Gray-Gray, is a valuable skill.”

“I’m too tired to knock.” He flops onto the armchair by the window and leans his head back with a groan.

“Shouldn’t you be satisfying your wife?”

“I satisfied the fuck out of her.” He drags a hand over his face. “And then she fell asleep.”

I snort, and he glares.

“Fell asleep on a wave of extreme post-coital bliss,” he assures before looking me over. “Going out, big guy?”

In truth, Gray is two inches taller than me. But he’s built for speed while I’m built for blocking, which means I carry more bulk muscle.

“I’m taking Fiona to the Japanese Garden.”

Silence follows.

“So…Fiona, huh?” Gray sounds thoughtful.

Setting my hands on the dresser, I brace for a fight. “I want her.”

More silence. I turn. He studies me with a blank look.

“Are you pissed?” I ask. I won’t blame him. Hell, I expect it.

“If you were Johnson? Or Thompson? Or Marshal? Or any of those sharks, I’d punch your throat. But you? You think I wouldn’t trust you with Fi? I’d take a bullet for you, man.”

Damn. My throat closes, and I have to clear it to talk. “You should get some sleep. You look like shit.”

He lets his head roll back on the chair. “What’s the point? Little Man will be up any second now.”

“I’m taking him with us,” I say, putting my wallet in my back pocket.

Gray makes a strangled noise. “Seriously?”

My lips twitch. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Uh, to hang out with us?”

“That. And you sounded like you could use a break. So here I am.”

“You came to help us out?” His voice is creaky, raw.

“I told you I know babies. So let me give you a break today.”

I swear Grayson goes weepy. He blinks rapidly before taking a breath. “I love you, man. I’m one step away from kissing you right now.”

“You keep saying that, but I’ve yet to see any follow-through.”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “I love my kid. Like, seriously love him. But I confess, I’m dreaming of some sort of sleep drug for babies right about now.”

I reach for my boots. “He’ll figure the sleep thing out soon. Then you will too. Go on and get his things ready.”

Gray kind of falls-crawls out of the chair before righting. He really is dead on his feet. I feel for the guy.

He’s halfway out the door before he halts. “Dex, man…just…watch yourself with Fi.”

“You said you didn’t mind.”

“Not you.” He winces and pushes a fist against the doorframe. “She’s kind of capricious. And I’ve never seen you go after a girl, so…”

He doesn’t want me getting hurt. Well, I don’t either. But it’s a risk I’ll have to take. Besides… “I think there’s more solidity to Fi than you’re giving her credit for.”

He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t agree. Thankfully, an irate squawk sounds downstairs. Little Leo is awake. Gray inclines his head. “You sure about this?”

I know he’s asking about more than babysitting. And I should be thinking about my sanity. But I can only think of Fiona and how her lips explored mine. Best feeling ever.

“As I am of anything.”