Page 23 of Leashed

“Only one bed?” he interrupted. “That’s an actual thing in these?”

“You’ll find that in the eighth in the series,” she laughed. “Right now, you’re reading one with fated mates. It’s a really popular one.”

She could hear his blankets rustle as he moved. “Sure, popular with anyone who isn’t on the Fates’ shit list,” he grumbled. “So how’s the paper going? You finally wrapping your head around that snuff pic?”

“It’s not snuff art!” she retorted, grateful for the change of topic. And surprised he’d brought it up. “I decided to go with the piece you suggested. I already have a decent outline prepared.”

“If you need any help with the backstory, let me know,” he offered. “Oh, shit. Shoot. Your car. Did you pick it up on your way home tonight?”

She flopped onto her back, her phone tight to her ear. “I forgot all about it. I’ll cab it over in the morning so I’m not late for work.” She looked at the time. “In three hours.”

“I’m passing by you on the way to the shop tomorrow. I can swing by and grab you if buddy-boy doesn’t object,” he said, an odd clip to his words.

The wave of guilt previously held at bay came crashing back. “I’ll cab it. Thanks for the offer, though.” She drew her knees up and pushed herself up on her pillows. “I should probably get some rest.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he muttered. “Night, Sage.”

“Night.”

*

Bo tossed hisphone to the floor, listening as it skidded to a halt in the corner.

He was a fucking idiot.

Texting her had been a dumbass idea. Answering her call was worse. The growing restlessness he’d been feeling had all but disappeared with her soft voice, only to come barreling to the forefront when he realized Sage’s loser of a boyfriend had left her without her car.

Probably fucked her and walked out without even thinking of it.

But it was none of his business.

He was a fucking idiot.

A fucking idiot getting out of bed to retrieve his phone, set his alarm, and wake up in time to make it to her place before the cab driver did.

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