Page 23 of Perfect Pursuit

My mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”

Fallon quirks a brow before she slides her phone from her sweatshirt pocket. After a few quick swipes, she flips the phone around. And there for her to see at Rodeo Ralphs—Kensington’s local dive bar—is picture after picture of me with various women. Then with a flick of her finger, I see others from different nights. Some of them I recall were just sitting nearby me and some who were very much in my space.

None so incriminating as the woman from the other night leaning forward, her body language declaring her intent.

Fuck.

Unfortunately, Fallon’s not quite done with making me feel like a jackass. She offers me advice, “I’d check your six. The latest one—the one whose hand is precariously close to your butt? She’s the recently divorced mother of one who used to torment your niece on a daily basis for not having a father.”

Hearing that makes me defend myself. “I was there for a damn beer.”

“Ah, but they intend to trap you so they can become Mrs. Ethan Kensington. Hope you’re supplying your own condoms.” Her wink would normally disarm me if it wasn’t followed by a blank mask.

I lean over her and get in her face, willing to do anything to bring back the fire. I’ll do anything to keep Fallon with me in this moment. “While we’re on the subject, the first night you texted me?—”

“The night we were drugged?”

“Yes.”

Her brow furrows. “What about it?”

“You alluded to your hangover being worse than a man’s hairy balls.”

Fallon’s stunned. “I did?”

My hand slides up and into her loose bun. I yank her head back. “Yeah, you did.”

She glares up into my face. “What do you care? You’re the man who never noticed I was out of your life for almost six months.”

With that accusation, my control snaps. I bring my face so close to hers, inhaling her every exhale. I let her feel every ripple and shudder as our labored breaths entwined with one another. Long moments pass where we don’t say anything. I vow I’m going to taste her, imprint myself on her when someone bangs up against the door.

I jump back, letting her go.

Fallon clocks my reaction, a sad smile crossing her lips.

The moment between us is lost. Will we ever get it back?

Fallon uncurls herself and lays her hand on my forearm. “Talk to me, Ethan. What is it you want?”

I stutter, the words catching as I creak open the vault that contains my emotions for her. “I’ve been feeling things…”

“Things?”

“Things about you. Things I shouldn’t.”

“Last I checked, I’m a full-fledged adult,” she counters.

“I mean, you’re my niece’s best friend.”

“And?”

“And the feelings I have about you are decidedly not related to my being an ‘uncle.’” I wait for her to get the point.

“I fail to see the problem.”

“I think about you. More than I should.”

Her eyes give way from confusion to anger. “So, in your little fantasies about me, does caring about me come into play or just wanting to fuck me?”

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