Page 82 of Puck Prince

But fuck me, does he look good. He’s in gym pants and a fitted t-shirt and messy hair. His three-day stubble is coming in, accentuating his Damon Salvatore jawline.

I swallow hard and repeat the chorus.

I can’t.

I shouldn’t.

But God, do I want to.

“You ready?” he asks.

Not at all.

“Sure.”

As we ride the elevator up, my chest is rising and falling with every breath. That aforementioned shirt of his is tight enough that I can tell he’s doing the same.

He’s struggling too. Why is that such a hot thing to realize?

He pulls out his keys to unlock his door, and all it would take for me to follow him into his room is one word. One gesture. One hint.

The door opens.

And all it would take to completely crash the moment is the mystery woman and her baby to be standing on the other side.

Guess which thing comes first?

“Summer?” Owen is just as shocked as I am.

The woman is a nervous wreck, crying as she rocks the screaming baby. “Owen! I tried to call but you didn’t answer.”

“My phone was on airplane mode. What’s going on? What happened? Did that asshole come after you?” Owen’s tone is escalating from worry to anger.

Meanwhile, I’m just trying to catch up. I still don’t know who she is or how they know each other or which “asshole” he’s referring to. But I know something is wrong. That’s enough to tone down my suspicion and make me just as worried as Owen is.

“It’s Nicky. He’s sick, and I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t get him in to see the pediatrician for two days, but even then, I don’t have insurance, so I don’t want to go to the ER and?—”

“We need to take him to the hospital.” Owen is immediately back in the hallway, punching the button on the elevator again.

I ease forward and place a hand on the baby’s back. “What are his symptoms?” I ask softly.

“Runny nose. Lethargy. Throwing up. And a fever that won’t go down.” She pulls down the blanket so I can see his skin.

Sure enough, the little guy looks flushed and exhausted. But a panicking mother isn’t going to help. “Why don’t we take him inside?”

She looks at me and nods, and I guide them both to the door.

Owen is just standing in front of the open elevator doors, watching as I take over.

Part of my consciousness is right over there with him. I’m a little surprised, too, at how much the maternal thing just kicked in, considering that sixty seconds ago, I was about to rip Owen’s pants off.

26

OWEN

Every time Summer calls or shows up in the middle of the night or texts me thatmoney is tightandshe’s so sorry to do this, but—I show up. Every single time.

It’s what family does for each other.

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