Page 38 of Theirs to Hunt
I’m free tomorrow,” he says, voice low. “Let me take you out properly. We can talk…”
His eyes hold mine. The pause stretches.
“…about a lot of things.”
I lean against the gate, lips twitching. “Like with real silverware and not gym sweat between us?”
“Exactly.”
“Deal.”
He steps closer as I tilt my head toward him. A dark thrill curls in my belly.
I can feel the pulsing anger coming from the vehicle still creeping behind us.
He leans down, lips just about to brush mine…
A car alarm blasts through the moment, shattering it.
He steps back, eyes still locked on mine. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, little fawn.”
He turns and walks away.
I hesitate, then call after him. “Brooks?”
He turns.
I flash him a Cheshire grin. “Checkmate.”
He shakes his head. “This move was just check, Bambi.”
I watch him disappear into the night.
Only move once he’s gone.
And even then, only to touch my fingers to my lips.
Chapter thirty-two
Reagan, Friday 07:00 a.m.
The next morning, I’m glowing.
Lipstick.
A deeper front dip in my blouse than I usually wear to work.
A skirt with a flare at the knee instead of my customary slacks.
Bobbie clocks it the second I swing by the ER with a coffee and a grin.
“Did you get laid or hired by Vogue?”
“Neither. Yet.” I shoot her a look.
“The day’s still young.”
“But who was the mountain of beautiful man who wandered off as I came up? He looked very dark, dangerous, and served with a side of mysterious.”
