Page 49 of Wild Card

She narrows her eyes, the challenge shooting straight to my dick.

Seven… six…

“Five.”

Four… three…

She yanks the leash off the hook and sidesteps me, rushing out the door.

“Smart move, babe.”

She gripes as she stomps down the steps with Wolf on her tail.

Yeah, two weeks is a hell of a long time.

7

WILLOW

My phone chimesloudly in my back pocket, and I reach for it a little too eagerly, inciting a curious look from Bex.

Talon

You ready for a big night out?

I bite the inside of my cheek, my heart picking up speed. It’s been five days since our Sunday together, and true to his word, he has respected my boundaries. No pet names, no inappropriate touches, no showing up unannounced.

The three sessions we’ve had have been focused solely on his rehab and progress. Our conversations stuck to the basics but were always geared toward me. My studies, Wyatt and Chase, how Wolf is doing—all safe subjects.

He’s worked night shifts this week, but each evening texts me a short message to say good night. And then in the morning to wish me a good day.

As much as I hate to admit it, his texts have become a favorite part of my day.

There haven’t been many men in my life. Joe was my only true boyfriend. Therefore, my experience is limited.

When the guy you’ve been dating for almost two years becomes distant, you break up, only to discover he’s in love with your sister—it leaves scars.

Now they’re getting married and I’m single, fighting feelings for the hottest man I’ve ever met—who is way out of my league.

Like a thousand times this week, my mind drifts back to Sunday. During our walk, I peppered him with questions. He’s met half my family, my best friends, and knew about my parents’ separation. Yet, I only knew the names of a few of his friends and their dogs.

He didn’t make me press too hard, offering up information easily.

“You’re an only child? One child was enough?”

He smiled slyly. “More like why keep going when you have the perfect son already?”

I bumped his shoulder. “Sure, you were the perfect son, huh?”

“Perfection at its finest.”

“You’re telling me you gave your parents no trouble? Isn’t that a rite of passage for all children? We have to give our parents grief at some point.”

“Hard to fuck up when you spend every moment outside of school at the batting cage or pitcher’s mound.”

This surprised me. “You were a ball player?”

“I was.”

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