22. Twenty-Two

Twenty-Two

Of all the ways Nell had imagined Paige finding out about her and Whit—and over the past few days, she'd spent a lot of time imagining—this had to be the worst. They had recent lovers written all over them. Whit was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and his sweaty T-shirt, and though Nell had put on clean clothing, her disaster zone hair and the swollen red splotch that had formed on her collarbone could leave little doubt as to what they'd been doing. The only thing that prevented this from being the absolute pinnacle of nightmare scenarios was the fact that Paige hadn't arrived half an hour earlier. Just the thought of that possibility made Nell want to hyperventilate.

Not that she had ever envisioned this precise situation. Mostly because it hadn't occurred to her that Paige would somehow find her way to a nameless farm in the middle of nowhere. She was supposed to be in Cabo! She should be two thousand miles from here, relaxing in the hot sun and drunk-dialing Gabi, not skewering Whit with a death glare icy enough to make their grandmother proud. Paige shouldn't even be in the same country as them, let alone the same room.

But since she was here…

Nell straightened her shoulders and lifted her head, trying to steel her nerves. Paige was always going to find out, and Nell had been deluding herself to pretend otherwise. She'd made her decision that first afternoon, when she'd agreed to stay in Fallen Oaks instead of doing the responsible thing and getting on a flight back to Chicago. And the hard truth was, she wasn't even sorry for it. Whatever happened now—and she had a strong suspicion the next several minutes would count among the most painful of her life—she was long past regrets.

Her borrowed time was up, and now she had to face the consequences. This was the bargain she'd made. Her deal with the devil. A few days of reckless happiness with the man she loved.

And all she'd had to give up was her heart.

Whit hadn't moved aside to let Paige into the house, but she didn't wait for an invitation. She pushed past him, still glowering, and darted a quick glance around the room. "I'm tired, I'm jet-lagged, and I'm crabby as hell, so let's cut to the chase. Where's my sister?"

"I'm here." Nell stepped out from the bedroom doorway, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. She managed a weak smile. "Hi, Paige."

Paige swung toward her. She didn't look tired or jet-lagged, Nell thought. She looked as beautiful as ever, her shiny blonde hair falling around her shoulders with careful artistry, her makeup dramatic and flawless. Her black silk halter top and wrap skirt had been meant for warmer weather, which told Nell she'd been in too much of a rush to bother with a change of wardrobe. Her strappy six-inch heels put her nearly at a height with Whit. Intentional, Nell knew, since Paige only wore heels when she had to.

"Well, now, isn't this cozy," Paige drawled. She tapped her fingers along her arms as her gaze swept over Nell, taking everything in—bare feet, mussed hair, puffy lips, the faint bruise at her collar. Her eyebrows lifted. "Forget to mention a couple of things in your last text?"

What was there to even say? "I was going to tell you." Eventually. Probably. But only because she'd never been very good at keeping secrets from Paige. Nell wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and turned to Whit. "Can I have a moment with my sister?"

He crossed the room at a jog and tucked her hand into his. "I'm not going anywhere."

The concern she saw in his eyes made her heart constrict, but this was her mess, and she had to be the one to deal with it. "I'll be okay. "

Paige made a gesture of impatience. "That's sweet, but unnecessary," she told Whit. "We're not staying." Her gaze flicked back to Nell. "Consider this an intervention. Playtime's over, Nellie. Time to go home."

Nell opened her mouth to respond, but Whit was quicker. "How are you even here?" he demanded, keeping Nell's hand firmly in his grip. "I don't remember giving you this address."

" That's your main concern right now?" Paige huffed. Her shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. "Some groupie put it together. Imagine my surprise when a Whitney O'Rourke superfan messaged me, telling me all about how my ex-boyfriend was hooking up with my scheming little sister—complete with photographic evidence. They sent me the address, I guess to convince me to come fetch her. Which, well, mission accomplished, so bravo to them. You might want to get that checked into, though, because it looks like you have a stalker with a serious voyeurism fetish."

Nell felt sick. "Someone's been taking pictures of us?"

"Don't worry, they're flattering," Paige said, flashing her teeth. Nell couldn't tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic. Knowing Paige, it could be either.

Whit had skipped right past the stalker part and was busy skewering Paige with a glare of his own. "Your ex-boyfriend?" he retorted in a tone that was half disbelief, half disgust. "We broke up four years ago . Nell and I are two consenting adults, and what we choose to do with our time is our business, not yours."

Paige tossed her hair. "You think I hopped on a plane from Mexico and drove for three hours at the crack of dawn because I care about you ? Please. I'm here to save my sister from herself. I know how quickly you go through women, and I don't want to see her get hurt." A thin wrinkle worked its way onto her brow. "Though from the looks of it, I arrived too late."

Oh, god, Nell thought. Panic surged as understanding dawned. Paige wasn't here because she was angry. She was here because she was overprotective.

That was so much worse .

Nell heard the roar of a freight train in her ears. Breakneck speed, collision course, bearing down on her. Desperately, she tried to derail it before it could come crashing into them. She pulled her hand free from Whit's and took a step toward Paige. "I know I messed up," she began, "and I'm sorry for not telling you. But this isn't going to interfere with your plans. My flight home leaves tomorrow morning, and Whit already agreed to go along with your PR"—she couldn't make herself say romance— "idea."

"Really. He told you that." Paige's skepticism was palpable.

"I made him agree to it before we left Minneapolis. The second I'm gone, he's all yours." She heard the faint catch in her voice and winced.

Paige's stormy expression smoothed. "I would never do that to you, Nellie," she murmured. Louder, she said, "Anyway, your boy toy lied to you. He never had any intention of going along with my plan."

Nell frowned. "That's not true. He—"

"Then why do I have his publicist calling me to discuss the best way of handling my quote-unquote situation?"

Whit swore under his breath. Nell's gaze flew to his, searching for a denial.

Instead she found guilt.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Those deep brown eyes that had become so familiar to her were full of remorse. His mouth formed a word he didn't speak.

He reached for her hand again and she jerked away. "I told you I would help Paige with her problem," he said finally, softly. "And I fully intend to."

"How magnanimous," Paige sneered. "Thanks, but I no longer want your help."

Whit rounded on her. "Tell me something, Paige. Did you ever actually contact Frank Grantham?"

"Who?" Paige asked, too quickly. She moistened her lips and toyed with one of her chunky dangle earrings.

"Nell asked you to help her get her job back. You were supposed to call him. Did you? "

Paige drew herself up to her full, six-inches-extra height and aimed another death glare at Whit. "Don't try to turn this around on me."

"You didn't call him?" Nell could only stare at her sister. For the second time in less than a minute, she felt like her legs had been kicked out from under her. She backed toward the wall, pressing her fingers flat against the cool, hard surface.

"I was going to. I had a lot going on, and it slipped my mind."

"You told me you'd called him."

"You told me you were back in Chicago." Paige stopped toying with her earring and let her arms fall to her sides. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to argue."

Whit wasn't having it. "Then what the hell did you come here for?" he bit out. "To punish her? Why? Is it jealousy? Or are you just pissed she did something without your permission?"

There was a dangerous glint in Paige's eyes. "I shouldn't have sent her. That's on me. I knew she had a thing for you back when we were dating—I'd just hoped she'd gotten over it by now."

"Like I told you," Whit said through his teeth, "what happens between Nell and me is our business."

"And who do you think gets to pick up the pieces after you break her heart?"

Nell's voice was a strangled hiss. "Paige, stop talking."

Paige didn't listen to her. Her gaze was locked on Whit. "God, I knew you were selfish, but I didn't think you were enough of a bastard to take advantage of her like this."

"I'm not taking advantage of her," Whit snapped.

But Paige smelled blood. She went in for the kill. "What would you call it?" she asked him. She jabbed a finger toward Nell's stricken face. "Look at her. She's completely in love with you, and you're using her for sex."

Whit's words came out in a growl. "Get out."

Every line of his body was rigid with fury, but Nell saw the doubt in his eyes. Her stomach plummeted. There it was. The truth that they'd been able to ignore only as long as it remained unspoken. She was in love with him. Helplessly. Painfully. And he would never believe that he hadn't been using her, that she'd given her love to him freely because that was the way love worked. Instead of leaving him with the fond memory of a torrid fling, she'd just become one more transgression to add to his list of sins.

Screw that.

She pushed herself away from the wall, struggling against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The freight train had slammed into her and now she had to do what she could to salvage the wreckage. "Paige, stop . The only person hurting me right now is you."

Paige started to speak, but Nell held up a hand.

"Setting aside the fact that this is my private business" —a futile effort, Nell knew, since Paige didn't consider much of anything private—"you're completely wrong about what's going on between us. Whit and I are just having fun. Fun, frivolous, meaningless sex, and flying across two countries to rescue me from the evil clutches of the hottest guy I'm ever going to see naked isn't just way overstepping the bonds of sisterhood, it's honestly kind of mean."

The frown Whit aimed at her told her he was about to make some sort of protest, and Nell hurried to cut him off. "I'm as angry at you as I am at her, so don't even think about opening your mouth right now," she warned him. His eyes narrowed, but he knew better than to test her, and she turned back to Paige. "Hot or not, I need to yell at him for lying to me. And since I don't want an audience, you have to go away. I'll call you in a couple of hours."

Paige must have recognized how close Nell was to coming unglued, because she didn't try to argue. She just smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt and gave her hair another toss. "Sure. I'll go play tourist for a bit." With one last withering glance at Whit, she headed for the door.

Nell waited until she heard the low rumble of tires on gravel that signaled Paige's departure, then turned and stalked into the bedroom. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She needed to finish packing. She needed to do something before she started to come apart at the seams. Her self-control was in tatters, and if she didn't find a distraction, some way of calming herself down, she was going to do something really humiliating. Like curl up in a ball and weep.

Not an option, she told herself. There was no way she was going to cry in front of Whit. She was going to remain dry-eyed and clearheaded, and the only way she was going to do that was to focus on something other than how close her heart was to shattering.

Incandescent rage seemed like a good place to start. The one person in her life she'd thought she could always count on and the man she'd fallen so stupidly in love with had both let her down. That should give her enough anger to fuel the sun.

Except that the person she was angriest at was herself.

Her small carry-on sat open on the bed, next to the laundry basket that held the last remaining articles of clothing she'd been attempting to cram into it. Too small, she decided; she'd have to leave a few things behind. She picked up the cardigan she'd worn to last Sunday's baseball game and shoved it in, wedging it between a long-sleeved button-down and her new corgi print pajama bottoms. The lacy red panties Whit had called her lucky underwear went in the garbage.

"Meaningless, huh?" Whit said from behind her.

Nell didn't turn. "Don't forget fun." She stuffed her University of Chicago tee into the bag and set aside a couple of pairs of socks. Those could stay. And the dress for the gala that she would never wear was still hanging in the closet. Whit had paid for it; he could return it.

"Are you going to look at me?"

"Are you going to feed me some pathetic excuse about how you never actually said you'd go along with Paige's plan?"

"No," he said quickly. "But I wasn't lying when I said I intend to help Paige. I asked my publicist to look into it. She wasn't supposed to make contact for a couple of days yet."

"So the problem isn't that you lied to me, it's that I found out."

"You know that's not what I meant."

Nell swung around to face him. It annoyed her that even now he looked sexy. He was rumpled and sweaty and somehow had dirt in his hair, but every pore of him exuded that subtle masculine confidence that made her weak in the knees. If he had any sort of human decency, he would at least try to take it down a notch. As it was, he needed about ten more layers of clothing. And a bag over his head. "I think the words you're looking for are I'm sorry."

"Would you believe me if I said them?"

"Probably not."

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I hope you'll believe that." He took a step toward her, then seemed to think better of it and made his way to the window seat instead. "Can we talk about what happened back there?"

"I thought that was what we were doing." She'd known he wouldn't be distracted for long, but she couldn't face him, and she turned toward the bed again, tugging at the zipper of her carry-on. "If you mean that BS about you using me, you know that isn't true."

"Do I?" His voice was soft.

"We already had this discussion before getting naked in the hayloft. And since you've apparently forgotten, I was the one who did the seducing."

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

"Because, believe it or not, having my sister show up and embarrass me in front of the guy I'm sleeping with isn't the most enjoyable experience I've ever had. In fact, it was actually sort of traumatic, so I'd appreciate it if you'd drop the subject."

"I can't do that," he said with quiet steel. "Something tells me we need to have this conversation."

"Oh, would you get over yourself?" she snapped. "It's not that deep. You're pretty, but you're replaceable. I already have my next lover lined up." A total lie, since she'd decided a few days ago that she wasn't going to call Evan. It wouldn't be fair to him, not when he wouldn't even be a rebound. You couldn't rebound until you hit rock bottom, and Nell had the feeling she had a long way left to fall. She yanked at the zipper again, tried to keep her tone light. "How did you know Paige never called Frank Grantham?"

"A hunch."

"Good hunch."

"Cut the crap, Nell."

She heard the scowl in his tone and groaned in frustration. "Paige was just trying to push your buttons. She's good at that."

"So she was lying?"

"What, you think she took one look at my face and decided I was in love with you?" She was going to have to give him something, she realized. After last night, Whit would never believe she didn't feel anything for him. She may as well have been holding a flashing neon sign when she told him he couldn't come to Chicago. "I have a mild case of infatuation. It's nothing I won't get over once I've got a good four hundred miles between me and your pheromones."

She heard his breath hiss out. "Jesus. You are in love with me."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening to you. And the fact that you won't give me a straight answer is starting to scare the shit out of me."

"Just what every woman wants to hear."

"Nell."

The slender thread keeping her temper in check finally snapped. She shoved her bag aside and whirled to face him. "Fine. I'm in love with you. Happy?"

Shut up shut up shut up! s he screamed at herself. Her throat tightened. Her hands balled into fists. But she had been pushed to her limit, the floodgates had been opened, and any hope she'd had of holding back vanished when she saw the panic that bloomed in his eyes. White hot fury took hold. What the hell had he expected? He was the one who had forced a confession!

Well, if he wanted a confession, he was damn well going to get one.

"I'm in love with you, Whit," she repeated, her voice breaking. All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room. Tears burned a path down her cheeks and she ignored them. "I am passionately, deliriously, desperately in love with you. I was in love with you four years ago. I love you even though you lied to me. I want us to get married and have babies and sit in matching rockers when we're old and wrinkly. I want to go to your stupid baseball games and wear your stupid jersey. I want it so much I can't breathe, and the fact that it's not what you want is killing me. Is that good enough for you? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

She hugged her arms and backed toward the bed, struggling against the sobs that threatened to break loose. She wanted to be anywhere else in that moment. In a cavern. On the moon. Why couldn't he have just let it be? She'd had this vision of herself at the airport, saying goodbye to him with a wave and a smile, no bitter tears, no hint of the gaping hole he was leaving in her heart. She'd wanted to set off into the sunset, holding the memory to her like a happy dream.

Instead it was becoming a nightmare.

Whit hadn't moved. All the color had drained from his face. He didn't look panicked now. He looked horrified. And this time, he was the one who wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Nell, I…"

If her heart hadn't already been in pieces, the quiet pain in his voice would have done the trick. As quickly as it had come, her anger deflated. It left her feeling limp, boneless. She sank onto the bed, heaved in breaths. Her hand fluttered toward her throat. "It's crazy, right? Believe me, I know it's crazy. I barely know you." Except she felt like she did. Maybe not every part of him, but enough to matter. Enough to know he would spend the next few months riddled with guilt and torturing himself unless she did something to stop it.

And her love didn't feel crazy. It felt right.

She let out a shaky laugh. "I didn't mean for this to happen, and I know you didn't, either. I'm not blaming you. Whatever Paige says, you didn't take advantage of me. I'm a big girl. I knew exactly what I was getting into."

She just hadn't known that it would hurt this much. That she would want so much.

Whit still wouldn't look at her. He perched on the edge of the window seat, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. The early sun slanting in through the glass painted his skin in shades of bronze and gold. "I get that this week has been really intense—"

"Stop. You're not responsible for my feelings, but you don't get to erase them, either." Strange how calm she suddenly felt. Like the aftermath of a storm. It was cleansing almost. Freeing. "I make my own choices. I stayed because I wanted to. I slept with you because I wanted to, and the only thing that will piss me off right now is if you try to twist this into something it isn't. I'm not going to be one more reason for you to feel unworthy. I want what I can't have, so I took what I could get. If there's a guilty party here, it's me, not you."

Whit cleared his throat. "Nell… you're a beautiful, kind, incredible person."

She scrubbed at her face with both hands. This was even worse than she'd imagined. "Oh, god, please don't. You don't need to let me down gently. I know you don't feel the same way, and if you say any guy would be lucky to have me, I might actually scream."

It was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall that also happened to have a serious guilt complex. "This week has meant a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. I just…"

"Whit, I get it. I really do. I don't need you to explain."

That finally got through to him, but instead of sounding relieved, he turned surly. His head jerked up. "Then what the hell do you expect me to say here?"

"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything."

"I told you what my life is like," he said hoarsely. He sliced a hand through the air. "I told you why I don't do long-term relationships."

"I know. I'm not blaming you."

"Bullshit. You just said you wanted to marry me."

"It wasn't a proposal!" Why was he so angry? She was letting him off the hook! He should be thanking his lucky baseball she wasn't trying to prolong this. Something he would probably realize the second she was out the door. She took a steadying breath, somehow forced a smile. "No regrets, okay? We had a great time this week. It was fun while it lasted, but it's over now."

He stared blankly at her. "Over?"

"Paige can take me to the airport. I'll call her once I finish packing."

"So… that's it, then." His voice was gruff.

"That's it. "

"All or nothing. Because I didn't fall in love in a fucking week , you're running away."

The words stung, but his hostility confused her. "I'm not running away. I'm going back to the real world." Whit gave her a stony look, and she fought another flare of temper. "I was leaving today anyway!"

"Tonight. After the groundbreaking ceremony. That was our deal. What happened to not going back on your word?"

She shot to her feet. "That's really the argument you want to go with? After you lied to my face?"

"You're glad I lied," he retorted hotly. "Admit it, Nell—you never wanted me to go along with Paige's plan." The crook of his eyebrow dared her to deny it. The faint sneer on his lips said he wouldn't believe her if she did.

"That isn't the point."

"No. The point is we had a deal, and now you're trying to back out."

Nell gaped at him. "You can't seriously expect me to go to the ceremony with you."

"Why not?"

Because I just told you I'm in love with you and you told me you're not.

Because every minute I spend with you will be agony .

Because I'd like to get out of here while I still have some pride left, and if I don't go now, I'll be falling on my knees, begging you to love me.

She couldn't say any of that. Wouldn't say any of that. Instead, she just stood there sputtering. "Because… because…"

"I don't want you to leave yet," Whit said, which might have had more of an impact if he hadn't growled it. He leaned back in the window seat, arms folded. "And you didn't want to leave, either, until big sis showed up and gave you a scolding."

"I'm pretty sure it was you she was scolding. Paige isn't the problem."

"Then stay, so we can figure this thing out."

"What thing ?"

He gestured vaguely. "This. You and me. Us."

"I told you I'm in love with you. You told me I'm a nice person. What could there possibly be to figure out?"

"Kind. I said you were a kind person." He made a frustrated noise and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look. You're upset, I get that, but leaving now isn't the answer. You have to"—another gesture—"I don't know, give it a chance to run its course."

"Run its course. Right." Like she had the flu; another day or two, and she'd be cured. But she supposed in Whit's world, that's what love was—something you caught if you weren't careful. She swallowed down a laugh. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather just rip the Band-Aid off."

"That sounds to me like you're scared."

"Of what? Having my heart broken? Because I'm right in the middle of been there, done that, and I'd like to get it over with as quickly as possible."

"Of taking a chance."

God, she wanted to. The wild hope that stirred in her heart urged her to say yes, to let her deal with the devil go on just a little longer. But what if she did? Whit wasn't going to fall in love with her. Not in two weeks, not in two months. He would never allow it. She wasn't deluded enough to believe that she could change him, that maybe, just maybe, she'd be the one to make him finally decide to commit. If she didn't end things now, she'd only be setting herself up for more heartache, and she'd already had as much as she could stand.

"There wouldn't be any point," she told him.

"You said it yourself—we had a great time this week. There's no reason that can't continue. And once things are less intense—"

"I'll magically fall back out of love with you?" She shook her head slowly. "I can't stay here, Whit. I have to go back to Chicago. My life is in Chicago."

"I already offered to come with you. Let me know when you come up with an excuse that isn't total bullshit."

Her eyes narrowed. "You want to talk bullshit? All right. Let's talk bullshit."

"Nice language, Miss McLean. "

She didn't bother to respond to that. "Bullshit is cycling through girlfriends every couple of months so you don't have to worry you might get attached. Bullshit is thinking a relationship can just run its course without anyone getting hurt in the process. You didn't mean to hurt me, but you did, and I'm not going to be your next female distraction just so you can try to figure out some way of fixing it. I may be in love with you, Whit, but I still have some self-respect, so if you're looking for someone to keep you entertained over the winter, you'll have to find somebody else."

He was on his feet now, too. "You think that's all this was for me? Entertainment?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I like my relationships uncomplicated. I'm not going to apologize for that. That doesn't mean I'll screw any woman who crosses my path."

"I never said it did!"

Whit wasn't just surly anymore; he was fuming. He stalked toward her, his gaze burning into hers. "This isn't casual for me, either. Just because I'm not ready to declare eternal love doesn't mean I don't fucking feel anything. Jesus, Nell, it's been a week! I'm sorry if I'm not on your schedule, but it takes normal people a hell of a lot longer than that."

"I don't want you to declare anything!" she cried. "I don't need you to love me right now, Whit! I…" Her voice broke again. "I just need to know you someday can."

"How the hell am I supposed to know something like that?"

"You're not. You can't. But that's what I need, and since I can't have it, I'm going home."

The words hung in the air between them, a fraught, tense silence. Nell wanted to sob in frustration. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It wasn't supposed to end this way. All her beautiful memories were turning to ash.

Whit's shoulders sagged. He turned away. "If that's what you want, go ahead and go," he said bitterly. "But don't expect me to come chasing after you. If you leave now, it's done. "

It's done . The finality of his statement rang in her ears. Her throat closed up. Her legs turned to rubber. She ordered herself to go—to grab her bag, walk out the door, race, skip, run, climb out the window, do anything , just go—but she no longer seemed to have any control over her body. She stood rooted, staring at Whit's back, at the taut outline of muscles that showed beneath his shirt and the hint of warm skin that was no longer hers to touch. She couldn't just leave. Not yet. Not like this. If this was over, if this was it, she needed something else to burn away the hurt and the guilt. Both of them did. Instead of taking the escape he offered, she whipped her shirt over her head.

Then she hurled it at him.

It him square in the shoulder. He spun around again. "What are you doing?" His gaze went straight to her breasts.

She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. "I don't want us to end angry." Her bra landed on the floor.

"This isn't angry?"

Maybe it was. But it also felt necessary. "This is getting you out of my system. For good. Now hurry up."

He scowled at her, but he was already breathing hard. "You just dumped me. I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Who's the terrible liar now?" She slid her jeans down her thighs, past her knees, let them pool at her ankles. Stepped out. "And I didn't dump you, because—"

"We aren't dating. Whatever." His shirt disappeared, and she could see his erection straining against his shorts.

She removed her panties before he could rip them off her a second time in one morning. "It's up to you," she whispered. "I'm leaving either way."

The faint twinge of fear that he would leave her standing there, naked and embarrassed, vanished along with his shorts. He reached her in two long strides. His hands clamped down on her shoulders. A breath stuttered out of him as her own hand moved between them. "Goddammit, Nell." His voice was hoarse.

He pushed her onto the mattress, grabbed one of the condoms they'd left in the nightstand, and shoved her thighs apart. She gasped when he entered her, but she didn't want gentle. This wasn't about love or tenderness. This was an act of pure lust, stripped of emotion, two bodies seeking one final, frantic release. His hands were rough as he jerked her hips upward. She started to come after a few hard thrusts and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. She held tight when his own climax rocked through them both, and as soon as it was finished, slid out from underneath him.

"You can have the shower first," she said as she scavenged around the floor, retrieving her clothing. She pushed his shirt at him. "And cover up, before I get the urge to jump you again."

He was slower to recover, dragging himself from the bed with graceful lethargy. After he pulled his shirt back on, he gave her a narrow look. "You'd better be here when I get out. Don't just slink off without saying anything."

"I won't," she lied.

The moment he was out of the room, she texted Paige. Come get me .