Page 28 of Make You Stay

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, there’s a tension in the air, no doubt from my date the night before. “Great. How are you?”

No way in hell are we going to waste time with blasé conversations. It’s time to get it out on the table before I sweep everythingoffthe table and take Chloe on top of it.

Not a bad idea, actually.

Grabbing a mug, I help myself to some coffee before leaning against the counter. “You sleep well?”

She shrugs, her eyes averted.

Yep, she’s being distant. “Don’t talk so much, Chloe.”

“Sorry. I’m just going through some legal paperwork.”

Walking behind her, I glance at the computer screen, leaning in closer than necessary. Am I pushing her buttons? I’m sure as hell trying. “Real estate agent? Are you selling?” That news hits like a fist, the idea that this petite, perky, sexy as fuck lady won’t be next door for the duration.

“I’m weighing my options.” Turning on the barstool, she ducks under my arm, putting more distance—physical and otherwise—between us. “You’re in a good mood.”

Actually, I’m about three seconds away from ripping her clothes off, but I opt to play with her a bit as I bite back a smile. “I guess I am. Do you know why?”

“I’m sure I could figure it out.”

No, Chloe, your guess is all wrong.

“So, dating is weird, isn’t it?”

“It can be.”

“When do women normally…”

“Put out?” Her expression is downright pained now.

Do I keep treading? Damn right, I do. “Jeez, what a way to put it.”

“I apologize for insulting your delicate tendencies. Knocking boots, a better term?”

“Not really.”

“But that is what you meant?”

“Yes. Is it normally on the first night?”

The hint of a smile falls from her face. “Not with me. But it’s different for everyone.”

“You didn’t sleep with old Zeke?”

“Definitely not,” she grimaces, shaking her head.

“Hmm. So, the first night isn’t usually—”

I watch the temper flare across her face. She doesnotwant to discuss this topic any further. “I guess you got lucky, in more ways than one. What did she think of your new look?”

Running a hand over my jaw, I chuckle. “She prefers the beard.”

“She’s an idiot.”

“I tend to agree with you.” I opt to keep pushing. I’m treading a razor’s edge, uncertain of where Chloe’s head—and heart—lie. “She couldn’t kiss worth a damn, either.”

That did it. Chloe’s head shoots up as her eyes narrow. It’s only an instant, but I see it—jealousy. I’ve never felt so damn relieved to see that emotion in a woman. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

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