Page 43 of Rook

But, eventually, he went silent and I knew he was asleep.

I folded up, staring blankly at the old black-and-white cop drama playing on the TV.

Some part of me just wanted to tiptoe around the apartment, gathering my things in my arms, then rushing down to my car, throwing everything in, and driving out of town.

But I couldn’t do that.

There was too much riding on this working out.

Money.

And the security that came with that.

But also… protection.

I couldn’t screw this up.

I had to get control over myself and take this job seriously. Because that’s exactly what it was. A job. A role I was playing.

None of this was real.

At that thought, though, my sex clenched, reminding me that while the relationship was indeed fake, the interest my body felt was quite real.

I couldn’t say how long I sat there, trying to reason with my body, listing all the reasons I had to make this work.

Eventually, though, I must have fallen asleep sitting up, because that was how I woke up, curled up against the back cushion, knees to my chest, blanket pulled up to my chin.

“Ow,” I grumbled when a sharp pain shot up the back of my neck.

“Should have stayed in the bed,” Rook said from the kitchen as I lowered myself flat on the cushions, doing a long cat stretch until some of the zaps and zings from sleeping in a cramped position eased.

It was from flat on my back that I smelled something. Something eggy and cheesy and mapley.

“Are you cooking?” I asked, angling my head back to glance over at him.

He stood in the kitchen wearing nothing but those damn pajama pants. They seemed lower slung than usual, revealing his long, toned torso. He wasn’t damn near a bodybuilder like Detroit was. But Rook had that deceptive skinny, gamer guy physique that actually had a whole, but subtle, six-pack.

And those little lines that disappeared into his waistband? Criminal.

“Yep. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“We do?” I asked. I’d just been planning to pick up more delivery jobs.

“We’re getting engaged today,” he informed me.

“Oh, wow, look at us,” I said, folding up. “Moving right along.”

“Yeah. I figured it had to be something kind of grand. But to do that, I think we need some fuel.”

“Why do I feel like I should be worried?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“How you feel about a little hike.”

“A hike.”

---