Page 69 of Firefly Effect

I smile. “I’m glad you’re coping with the complimentary amenities. If it were up to Lucy, I’d be moving you into my room, but I had to let her down.”

Evie laughs. “Is Lucy trying to play matchmaker?”

I nod, eyes wide for emphasis. “Oh yes. From the moment she met you.” Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I take in Evie’s bedtime attire, a baggy white shirt and black cotton shorts. “Can’t say I blame her. She happens to think you should be treated like a princess, and I can’t disagree.”

Evie’s cheeks darken a shade. “Lucy is too kind.”

“And me?”

She tilts her head. “You, Doctor Reed, are dangerous.” A hint of a smile touches her lips.

“Dangerous enough to go on a date with? Say, Saturday night?”

Her cheeks darken another shade, and surprise lights up her eyes. “A date?”

I nod slowly, allowing my question to sink in.

She stares at nothing like she’s ticking through a list in her head. “Okay.” She smiles. “I’m sure I can find someone else to close down the bar for me that night.”

“Lucy will be so happy.”

Our eyes meet in a flirtatious glance, silence lingering between us. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep from using any excuse to invite her into my bedroom.

“You should know,” Evie says, “that I’m a bit of a night owl. It’s probably from all the years of closing down the bar.”

I shrug and lean against the door frame. “I’m the same. The house always gets so quiet once Lucy goes to bed and Francine is in her guest cottage. It’s the perfect time to write.”

Evie sits up straighter, tucking her book against her body. “You can write if you want. Just pretend I’m not here.”

The nonchalance in her tone brings a smile to my face. “I’m afraid that will be impossible.” Nerves fill my chest and throat. “I’m going to take a quick shower.” The words Join me if you want to are on the tip of my tongue.

I’m not sure if it’s wishful thinking or apt awareness when I see disappointment flicker in her eyes.

“Okay.” She gives me a faint smile. “Have fun.”

It’s only two steps across the hall, but the journey to my bedroom feels like a walk of shame. How have I completely lost all sense of charm when it comes to Evelyn Vaughn? Every ounce of confidence I once had when it came to women seems to have completely diminished now when I’m with her.

I pause at my bedroom door, reminding myself that Evie’s bedroom is right across the hall. Deciding to leave it wide open, I toss a look over my shoulder to find Evie’s gaze on me. We make eye contact for only a moment, but it’s long enough to extend a silent invitation.

Join me… if you dare.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

EVELYN

The slowness of his steps, from my room to his, commands my complete attention. He doesn’t even shut the door before he walks straight across to his bathroom, slips off his shirt, then heads in a bit farther to turn on the shower.

When he walks back toward the entrance to the bathroom, I fully expect him to catch me staring and slam the door shut, but he turns back to the mirror instead. He presses his hands into the edge of the counter, flexing his triceps and biceps and whatever other muscles that make up his masterpiece of a body. Even his back muscles expand in response to the way he’s gripping the counter. Then he rolls his neck.

It’s almost as if he’s in deep thought. Or maybe he’s just waiting for me. My heartbeat accelerates. As much as I try to convince myself it’s all innocent, all I see is a slow striptease right in my line of sight.

It feels like an out-of-body experience, setting my book aside and swinging my bare feet to the wood floor. As I pad over to the door, I find him in the same position in front of the mirror, head down and jaw clenched. I haven’t even considered the amount of stress he’s been under, taking care of Lucy and Francine—and now me. Not to mention the number of clients he sees daily who pour out their hearts and deep, dark confessions to him. I don’t know how he does it.

The hallway floor creaks, announcing my steps, making my heart thump even harder in my chest. Lincoln’s house is so quiet. I’m starkly aware of the fact that Lucy is in the room down the hall while Francine is next door in the guesthouse.

When I enter Lincoln’s bedroom for the first time, I shut the door behind me, far too nervous that Lucy might wake up and find me creeping into her father’s bedroom.

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