Page 11 of Coast

“How did I not know Luna was scheduled today, too?” I looked at Bailey.

“She’s not. Her sonogram appointment is next week. She and Ghost came in to wait, and Lance stayed out in the truck with Ally and Neely. They’re going to the diner for lunch, too.”

“Yes, and we’ll meet you there. Try not to take too long, I’m starved,” Sami said as Speed help her off the table.

“You were the last appointment before lunch, so we’ll only be a few minutes behind you,” I said and reached for the door and pulled it open.

“Great. I’ll show them out and let Amelia know she’s clear to go to lunch also,” Bailey said and followed Sami and Speed through the door.

“Thanks. I’ll meet you out front after I swing by the office and grab my jacket and keys.”

“Sounds good,” Bailey answered me, then walked away with Sami and Speed as I headed in the opposite direction toward my office.

Once inside, I grabbed my bag out of my desk and my jacket off the rack. No one mentioned Emery being outside or joining us at the diner, but it didn’t keep me from getting that warm feeling in my stomach at the thought of being around him. For a brief second, I wondered if the exhaustion was back and having an effect on me.

I thought keeping my distance from the man would curb his interest and give me time to build up a resistance to him. And I had. At least until he pulled me against him to dance. Who was I kidding? He had my interest when he touched me to slide the garter up my leg. His fingers leaving a trail of fire on my skin. The dancing had only added to it.

He was arrogant and bossy, which I could have dealt with and ignored. It was the softer side of him that would be my downfall. I might not have had any intentions of getting involved, but I was grown up enough to admit it was too late.

“Ugh, I’m so damn screwed and not in the good way,” I said into the empty hallway as I made way to the front.

Emery “Coast” Cortez had wormed his way under my skin when I wasn’t looking.

Chapter Three

Coast

“This is a waste oftime. My medicines work fine.” On the fifteen-minute drive to the clinic, Kiyaya had repeated the same words at least a hundred times.

I blew out a breath and opened the driver’s side door on Kiyaya’s thirty-year-old pickup. The rust was the only thing keeping the body of the truck together.

“Truck’s about on its last leg.”

“Nothing wrong with it. Young people always wanting new things.”

My lips twitched. Kiyaya had been arguing with everything I said since I informed him yesterday that he would be going to the clinic. Swinging my legs out, I got out of the truck and closed the door, then walked around the front and waited.

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