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I trace my thumb across my jaw, thoughtful. “Doesn’t she know that already?”

She shrugs. “I guess we all like to be reminded.”

“I’m happy to take you home and remind you right now.”

“Why?” she asks me. “Do you need to grovel about something?”

I lift a brow, taking in her glowing complexion. Trying to ignore the fact that I can’t be away from her for a day without missing her.

“The night is still young,” I tell her and she laughs again.

I feel it in my chest. The easy comfort between us. The soft edges of something real taking shape. Today has been thebiggest shit show of my life, yet somehow, she makes everything better.

The waiter arrives with some wine, and we let the conversation drift. She tells me about her plans to visit Misty Lakes, the estate her family owns in Virginia, where she’ll come clean to her brothers about her writing.

I tell her about the time I lost a bet with Hudson and had to swim naked in the Atlantic in the middle of December.

“In December?” she winces. “How did I never hear about this?”

“It was before you and Autumn met.” I lift a brow. “And no man wants to recount the time his balls shriveled up so far they reached his sternum.” I blanch at the memory. Fuck, it was cold. “I swear I got hypothermia.”

She tips her head, clearly amused. “Was this before or after you became obsessed with security and control?”

I meet her warm gaze. “Before. It’s one of the formative disasters that turned me into the well-adjusted person I am today.”

Her mouth twitches. I reach out to touch it with my thumb, dragging it along her bottom lip. The tension that’s been coiled in my chest all day loosens.

“That explains the helicopter safety texts,” she murmurs.

“I just needed to see you. And I needed you safe.” And yeah, I feel a little sheepish because this woman doesn’t need me to take care of her. She’s fully capable of doing it herself.

Truth is, I like doing it. I like the dynamic. I have a knight-in-shining armor complex and I have no idea how to suppress it.

“And here I am.” She lifts my hand to her mouth, kissing my palm. It sends a shot of desire right through me. “But I wouldn’t say I’m safe.” She tips her head to the side, like she’s studying me. “By the way, the naked swimming thing would have been a great grovel.”

I chuckle. “Feel free to use my humiliation as fodder for your books.”

“I’m already using your psychic sex. What’s a little ball shrivel between friends?”

I capture her hand. “We’re not just friends. We already established this.” I run my thumb along the delicate skin on her wrist and her breath catches. Just the smallest hitch.

It’s enough to tell me she hears the truth behind my words. That this isn’t just friends fucking.

It’s something else. Something more. I may not be able to say the words yet, but I know what I feel.

When our food arrives – scallops for her, a rare steak for me – we fall into a low, easy murmur of conversation that only happens when everything fits. I find myself watching her instead of eating, soaking in the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, how she wrinkles her nose when she tells me a secret.

How I’m falling for this woman, hook, line, and sinker.

And then I feel it. A prickling sensation on the back of my neck. Like I’m being watched.

A moment later, a shadow shifts in the corner of my vision.

“Asher.”

The voice is low. There’s an edge to it that pulls at my chest despite the owner of the words.

Francie turns her head to look at the woman standing next to her, staring at her like she’s my mistress and I’m a cheater.