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She reaches out for my arm and gives me a squeeze. “I’ve been on theditch Jefftrain for almost two years, but I’ve just hopped on thelet Jeff be a prison bitchtrain. If the scorching hot man in the waiting room can help you figure that out, let him.”

I feel my shoulders relax a touch.

“Then let him rip your dress off and give you a chain of orgasms. It’s what your nurse prescribes for your critical case of dusty vagina.”

I move around her and mutter, “Trust me, I have bigger problems than a dusty vagina.”

“That’s true.” She falls into step beside me. “But breaking through the cobwebs will be the natural antidepressant you need. Hell, you don’t need anyone to make your dreams come true. You need to chase off your demons for five minutes. And that man out there looks like he can throw you up against a wall and make that happen with his blue eyes and pinky finger.”

She’s not wrong.

But I can’t think about that right now.

I ignore all talk of Micah’s fingers and open the door to the waiting room.

Wow.

Naomi was right.

Micah in a suit doesn’t look natural, but that makes him even hotter. I doubt he wears one often.

He stands in the middle of the room talking to Vincent. Patients are scattered here and there and the Food Network plays in the background.

When Micah’s blue eyes hit me, it’s not lost on me that we match. His suit is as dark as my dress, but his tie is as blue as his eyes, which are the same color as the ocean on a bright, sunny day.

He looks good.

Too good.

Though, I’m not sure there is a fancy enough suit or hair product to mask his sharp edges.

Every tattoo is hidden and his hair is tamer than it has been in the last twenty-four hours since I’ve known of his existence. I doubt this type of transformation is normal for him, and he did it for me. And here I thought he’d drop me off at the church and wait outside.

I’ve seen men like him, but never known one personally. They’ve never touched me or taken me to a funeral, that’s for sure.

Now I’m glad I didn’t have time to tell Naomi about how he caught me when I almost fainted, and how I remember in detail what it felt like when he touched me, since it’s the first time in a long, long time anyone has done that.

Including my husband.

There’s no way I can tell Naomi I know what those hands feel like on me even though we tell each other everything. She’s the ultimate hype girl, but I don’t need that at the moment.

Naomi was not wrong about the dust or the cobwebs. They’re thick and might need a bulldozer to break through them.

I need Micah to catch the killer, Jeff to rot in prison, and to move on so I can try to give Chase the best life I can.

My cobwebs are at the rock bottom of my list of problems.

Micah glances at Vincent as he passes him a business card before focusing back on me. My security guard is gone in a flash as Micah hikes a brow and simply tips his head toward the door, silently communicating that it’s funeral time.

“He’s not wearing a ring. Find out if he has a girlfriend,” Naomi whispers. “Lord have mercy on your lonely vagina if that man is single. If he wants something—like your panties on the floor—all he has to do is stare at you and you’ll be naked in two-point-four seconds. My thoughts and prayers are with you if you think you’ll have any defenses against that man.”

I force myself to tear my sights off Micah and glare at Naomi. “You’re the least helpful friend ever.”

She frowns. “Did you miss the part that I’m praying for you? That’s what friends do. I’ll have my mom light a candle at church too. Your vagina needs all the help it can get. If that man is single, it’s going to take a team effort.”

“You’re the worst friend in the world,” I lie.

“You could offer to check him for a hernia in exchange for taking you to the funeral. That would be a nice thing to do. It’ll save him a co-pay.”

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