Page 7 of S.O.S. Perk

It took everything Perk had in him not to bust out a huge smile and do a victory dance. But her less than happy expression told him to tread softly.

“Well,Ifeel something, too,” he told her honestly, with as little gloating in his tone as he could manage. “But Iactually think it’s pretty nice.”

Nice was an understatement. What he was feeling was epic. But he’d continue meandering his way—as carefully as possible—through the prickly maze she’d erected.

“You do?” she asked, a look of skepticism on her suddenly flushed face. “How is that possible? I’m me, and you’re so…good looking, I bet you have women throwing themselves at you constantly, and have your pick of the lot.”

And here it was again. The bane of his twenty-eight-year-old, baby-wrapper existence.

“Sloane,” he finally managed. “I don’t mean to be contrary, but seriously? There’s more to me than a pretty face.”

Honesty had worked for him so far, so he went for broke. “In answer to that statement, do I lack for female attention? No. Have I had my share of hook-ups in the past? Yes. But in the last couple years, I’ve found that the luster has worn off serial dating, or serial sleeping around, if you want to call it that. I’m tired of being used for my physical attributes, and…” He knew he was showing his hand too soon, but couldn’t help himself. “…you strike me as a woman who won’t diminish me like that. If I’m wrong, tell me. But if you agree…” He let that hang.

“Fuck, Perk. I’d never treat you like a…thing. But…shit.” She put a hand to the crown of her head and subconsciously tousled her hair. “I don’t want to like you, yet here you are making it extremely tough.”

“I am?” He felt gobsmacked at her words. “I mean, why don’t you want to like me?” he questioned.

“Because what I said before is true. I’m off dating. I’m off men. Period. It’s never…gone well for me in the past. I’m over it, and being near you…complicates things.”

Now was not the time to back down.

“You’re conflicted where I’m concerned?” he prodded.

After a long pause, Sloane sighed long and deep, then gave an affirmative jerk of her chin.

Perk let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Good. Because that means I’m not giving up. To play it safe and let you kick me to the curb if you really want to, we’ll start out as friends. You said you have those, right?”

“I do,” she agreed, but didn’t look happy about where this was headed.

“Fine then,” he put out. “I promise you I won’t escalate past friendship-level unless you give me the green light.”

“You’llneverget that green light, Perk,” she returned almost sadly. “I’m afraid you’ll be wasting your time.”

“You let me worry about that,” he responded easily, then he clapped her on the back like he would with any of the guys. “See there? We can do this.”

If she wanted to be a chum until he changed her mind, Perk would treat her like one.

“So, what kind of burrito are we talking?”

CHAPTER THREE

Dammit.She was so screwed.

Sloane leaned against the counter in her small kitchen, wanting nothing more than to smack herself in the head until all traces of one Henry Perkins got jolted from her existence. But it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen. She’d been trying for three days—since the wedding—not to think about him. Hell, if she was honest, she’d been trying to shake him loose from her brain for the last couplemonths; since the moment she’d met him working on the Jakes’ op. But all the fussing she’d done had accomplished nothing but make her question her sanity, because she couldn’t stop him from invading her thoughts.

She looked down at the phone in her hand and bit her lip; a bad habit she had.

Sloane really, really, really wanted to call Melissa, her best friend and the voice of reason for her when she felt adrift and her sanity was at stake. But she had an inkling she knew exactly what Melissa would say, and Sloane wasn’t sure she was brave enough to take her advice.

Still, continuing the way she was…

Screw it.

She punched Melissa’s number and bit her lip again.

“Hey, bestie,” Sloane greeted tentatively.

“Sloane! This is a surprise. A midweek call? And before breakfast?”

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