Page 64 of Mended Hearts

“Nope. Straight to noticing long hair, sharp jaws, and strong hands.”

“God has a cruel sense of humor.”

“Apparently.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” I laughed as we rounded the corner, and he handed me a combat boot to yank on. “I’m a little past the cooties, Ollie.”

He snickered. “Did you like Jax bulging out of his jacket too?”

“The man certainly knows how to occupy a space,” I said earnestly, accepting my second shoe. “A little hairy, a little too macho for my taste. Besides, he’s blond.”

“Prefer gingers?”

I smirked at the bait, shaking my head. “Always been a brunette girl, myself.”

Ollie hummed thoughtfully. He tried to keep his face impassive, but I could swear his shoulders sagged in relief. My cue to leave. This balance beam between ‘professionally platonic’ and ‘whatever-we-almost-were’ was precarious at best.

“Have you considered self-defense for Tillie?” I asked, pivoting in the most awkward segue since the girl in question. “It might empower her—give her back some sense of control.”

But when I straightened, the world tilted, stars swirling, and—sweet baby Jesus—maybe Pax was right and I should call my doctor back home. Feeling a little nauseous, I set my hand on the front door and sucked down a slow breath.

“Leigh?” Ollie stepped into my space, brows pinched. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just… lightheaded, apparently.”

“Still?”

“What do you mean?” I breathed, my hand reflexively latching onto his forearm—and cursing myself when I met bare skin where his sleeves were rolled. His palms found my waist, fingers tightening as he stooped to study me, concern etched deep between his brows.

“Pax said that’s why you didn’t run last week.”

“Dirty, rotten fink,” I growled, wrinkling my nose.

He snorted. “In his defense, he’d had a scotch at dinner.”

“One mid-season drink and he crumples like a house of cards.Weak.”

Ollie chuckled, shaking his head. “So?”

“Yeah. I think the stress of the last few months just exacerbated things. A few weeks of good sleep, good food—” I smiled, letting my eyes wander over him, “—and even better company should do it.”

He nodded, but didn’t let go, his jaw ticking like that answer wasn’t good enough. “You’re welcome to crash in the guest room tonight. I don’t want you driving home if you’re not up to it.”

That… actually didn’t sound half bad. But that didn’t mean I could justify doing something stupid. “I don’t really wanna sleep in this,” I motioned to my stiff Bomber’s cheer shirt and cute-ass mini skirt. “It’s trying to strangle the girls.”

He huffed a laugh, his fingers flexing at my waist. I should step back.Should. But I didn’t. Couldn’t remember how.

“I’ve got some pajamas that might fit, and I can order clothes in for tomorrow.”

“You’re too nice, Ollie. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Never, not once,” he quipped, lifting a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. My God, the man could suck the oxygen out of a room. I’d tried hard not to get this close for a reason—he made me stupid. Staying here would be colossally dumb. Staying here in a big-ass shirt that smelled like heaven and the promise of orgasms? Colossally bad idea.

“Thank you for the offer, but Kaia’s expecting me. We’re doing breakfast before I head this way.”

Okay, so we ate together every morning in a half-lucid, bean-juice-dependent stupor, but it was the only excuse I could come up with while his Adam’s apple bobbed like it, too, was hot. I wanted to press my lips to his throat. Jesus.

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