Page 57 of Counting On You

Chapter Fourteen

Vicky

Sneakingout of the LAA Center building is much easier than I thought. In fact, it might be the easiest thing I’ve ever done. There are no security guards. The reception area is unmanned. It pretty much involves just walking out the door and no one giving a damn about it.

From outside, almost all windows are lit, including Kade’s and my apartment, left to look as though we just stepped outside and would be right back. It suits the purpose of fooling anyone who might come checking on us, even though I’m pretty sure no one will bother.

When Kade suggested we walk the small distance to the intersection, I agreed, which I shouldn’t have.

“Where are we going, Kade?” I ask for the third time in what feels like at least twenty minutes. “There’s no restaurant nearby.”

Or on the island.

I glance at the moon rising between the clouds. Night is about to fall, and I really don’t want to be walking around a deserted street in an unfamiliar place.

If Kade isn’t careful, someone is going to see us and report us.

“Where is your trust?” He shoots me a cocky smile, repeating my previous choice of words.

“If you’re thinking about dragging me into the woods and raping me, you should know that I took a self-defense class, and I’m not afraid to kick your ass.”

He stops and turns to face me. “Let me get this straight. You’re a stalker, a fighter, and a rebel.”

“I’m not a fighter.”

“No?” His gaze sweeps over my body appreciatively. “What is it that you do? Karate? Jiu-jitsu? Pillow fights, maybe?”

I stick out my tongue. “It’s kickboxing, asshole. And I know the best place to hit you to take you down. If I were you, I would be careful what you say next.”

“No need. You hit me pretty well when you stepped out in that red dress.” He gives me another glance and shakes his head. “Wow. I just want to strip you naked.”

My heart skips a beat.

Shit.

He did not say that!

Why the hell did I put on a tight dress?

It’s a bold shade of red, too.

“This is how I dress every day,” I lie.

“It’s a nice cocktail dress, without a doubt,” he says. “I’ll have my hands full beating the competition off.”

I give him a little shove. “I’m not going to cheat on Bruce. Not with you, not with anyone. We’ll have dinner, as agreed, but I’m only doing this because you gave me no choice.”

“Not because you like me?” His eyebrows shoot up, and I close my eyes, letting out a groan. I know how it sounds, and it’s wrong on so many levels. “Okay, you gave me a choice. The thing is, I need that phone. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“Stalking him much?”

“Shut up,” I say with more anger than I actually feel. “I don’t need your judgment. What the hell is it you do when you’re not thinking of sex, Kade?”

“A few weeks ago? Or right now? Let me think.” He remains silent for a few moments. “A few weeks ago, I would have said, nothing. Now, however, I’m trying to become a writer.” He seems so earnest, I find myself laughing. “I should tell you that I’ve started writing a journal while you were squeezing into this exquisite little thing.” He points at my dress. “And, get this. I think I’m going to turn it into a story. Less of a memoir and more of a—” He taps a finger against his lips, looking for the right word.

Oh, this is going to be good.

“A story?” I prompt. “About what, for crying out loud?”

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