Page 13 of Taking Denver

“Hey.”

I tuck the phone under my arm and meet Ethan’s eye. He’s changed out of his bloodstained clothes, a white t-shirt and jeans this time, and I hope he’ll remain clean, if only for housekeeping’s sake.

I think back to before the bullets started flying—the kiss, the argument. I’d been willing to give myself to him, to continue breaking my rules of this vacation.

Why had I even considered it? It’s one thing to kiss him, but to invite him back into my bed isn’t like me. I take what I need and walk away—it’s how I live my life. One guy shouldn’t change that.

But Ethan did, and it’s irking me. What the hell is so special about him?

“I forgot,” he says.

Relief floods me—he didn’t give Adam’s name to the police. It was a huge ask, so I meet his eye when I say, “Thank you.”

Ethan nods only once, and I inhale quietly when he moves closer and tilts my face up, examining the bruises. He frowns, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I should have hit him harder.”

I should have killed him.

Words I can’t, won’t, say.

“You hit him plenty,” I say, forcing a smile. My cheek twitches with the strain of it. “I guess those weights paid off.”

“Are you okay?”

I chuff and flash him a wider smile. “I’ve taken harder hits from a cabinet door.”

“Denver.” The shadows in his tone send a crack through my smile, but I hold onto it. He doesn’t know me and has no right to demand a truthful answer, but he likely saved my life. He’dalso checked Wesson over, and despite a bruised ego, the pooch would be fine.

Still, I avoid answering. No, I’m not okay, but that doesn’t exactly matter.

My phone hums against my palm, and I ignore it. “Have they moved your room?”

He releases his light touch on my jaw and steps back. The distance feels strangely cold, and I shiver.

“Yeah. Yours?”

I hold up my new key, the numbered keyring with 308 dangling between my fingers. Ethan huffs out a laugh and shows me his—309.

“Neighbors again,” I say. “Lucky you.”

“Lucky me,” he says quietly, searching my gaze. I know he’s thinking about his mishap with my nickname earlier, but I won’t explain myself. I don’t know this guy. I certainly don’t like this guy. The fact I’ve now kissed him on two separate occasions is strange, sure, but irrelevant. Unimportant.

It means nothing.

“Thank you for protecting me and Wesson.” I run my hand over the dog’s head. “I appreciate you doing that. You didn’t have to.”

Ethan gains nothing from keeping me alive, and the seconds it had taken to grab me could have been his final ones.

“Maybe it’s the vet in me,” he says, his voice light. “Preserving life is important.”

My lips twitch. “Are you comparing me to a poodle?”

“More like a rottweiler. Or a lively sausage dog.” Now, I’m fully biting back a smile. “Since we’re being all warm and fuzzy, I should tell you that what happened in the gym isn’t something I do. Ever.”

I smile and focus on Wesson again. “Me neither.”

For good fucking reason, Denver.

“So… why did you kiss me?” He grins.

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