Page 138 of Bad Blood

Shower—fifteen minutes.

Drive time from Dax’s apartment to mine—twenty-seven minutes—give or take, depending on traffic. I shouldn’t know this, but Google and midnight Chardonnay have a mind of their own.

I’ll need a little less than two hours.

I grab a glass from my cabinet and fill it with ice and water from the fridge as I lean against the counter.

“Brighton?”

“I’m thinking.”

He’s silent.

“What about nine? I could meet you.” The idea of him in my house again unravels my nerves. We need to stick to public places until I can get a hold of whatever is happening.

“Or I could pick you up.” His nonchalant tone causes me to pause.

Maybe I’m reading into his note more than I should be. I figured he would insist on meeting again at some point, but I wasn’t ready for it this soon. I just thought he would wait until Liam finished treatment. “Um, how about we meet at the Drunken Munkey?”

“Isn’t that sorta like a date place?”

“They have cocktails. Is that what you mean?”

He chuckles. “I didn’t know you wanted to get me alone.”

I choke on my water, spitting and sputtering as I devise a suitable response.

“You okay?”

“You have to stop trying to drown me in my drinks.”

“How was I supposed to know you were gonna choke?”

“Good point.” I set the glass on the counter and head upstairs to change into running shorts and a tank. The timer is ticking, and I’m already late.

“I’m full of good points. Are we starting from where we left off?”

“For what?” His hands roaming over my body, and the way his plump lower lip felt between my teeth instantly fly to the forefront of my mind. The way his soaked shirt clung to his chest. How he tasted like mint. My hands in his hair—

“Points . . .”

“That doesn’t count.” Get your mind out of the gutter, B.

“Why not?”

I glare at my phone and consider the consequences of hanging up on him. “Fine, point. We’re not starting over.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”

“Wait, I said—”

He hangs up.

“Nine.”

Shit.

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