“No.”
“Thought so.”
I open my door and hop out, only to see him rounding the hood.
“What now?” I ask incredulously. “What are you going to do, carry me to the door?”
“I would if you asked.”
“Wes,” I say, deadpan.
“I’m just walking you to the door,” he concedes, revealing one dimple to me.
“I’m perfectly capable.”
“I’m aware.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, come along then guard dog,” I toss out.
“Brat,” he mutters under his breath, and I giggle.
We approach the stairs, guided by the faint glow of the small porch light.
As I start to ascend, I turn around and stop my shadow. “That’s far enough. You can watch me from there.”
He slides his hands in his pockets, and the corner of his mouth lifts, but he obeys.
I start up the long staircase, and throw over my shoulder—because I’m feeling feisty and on edge after this whole night, “Friends don’t stare at friends asses.”
His deep chuckle rumbles from behind and follows me all the way up to my door. I turn my key in the lock, and enter my apartment. When I turn to shut the door, he’s still standing at the bottom of the steps, with a faint curl to his lips.
“Good night, Wes.” It’s a command to leave.
“Close the door.”
I roll my eyes to the back of my head, and slam the door. This man is something else.
“Lock it,” I hear muffled through the wood of the door.
I growl in frustration and flip the deadbolt.
“Good night, Ivy.” His voice is dulled by the door, but the teasing in his tone is still very present.
I drop my purse haphazardly on the ground. I’m going to be in a hotel room with that man for the next two nights. I need to strengthen my resolve immediately.
He wants to be your friend.
Friend.
Nothing else.
Don’t ask him to fuck you.
13
Wes
Maverick:Ivy left her car at the bar last night, and Wes made me help him bring it back to her apartment after I closed down.
