Blaire laughs. “So Boone is the one you tease?”
“Nah, we all get teased for different things. Boone’s the baby, so he gets punked a little more just because of birth order … and the fact that he really embraces the baby-of-the-family role.”
“Machlan is the baby in our family, and hedoesthe punking. Except to Walker. I don’t think they’ve ever actually fought, but I’m not sure who would win.”
I fiddle with the top button of my shirt. It takes a few tries before I get it undone.
Rising to my feet, I walk over to the windows. The sun is stillwarm even though it’s flirting with the horizon. The day whizzed by. This time last night, Blaire and I were on our way to Picante. That seems unreal. It also seems unreal that I might not see her again if she leaves tomorrow.
“Did you give any thought to my offer?” I ask.
She hesitates. “Yes, actually. I did.”
“And …?”
“I was thinking that it might not be a terrible idea to stay in Savannah for a few more days and see the city.”
My reflection in the glass shows just how big my smile grows.
“I think that’s great,” I say.
“Do you? Because I can always get a hotel room in Chicago. I don’t want to be a charity case. I’ve considered that maybe?—”
“Blaire?”
“Yes?”
“You’re rambling,” I tease.
She laughs. “I’m sorry. I just … I don’t know what to say right now, to be honest. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
I lean against the window. The tension in the back of my neck is gone, as is the ache in my jaw that developed when Wade walked in the door earlier. I feel like I could go for a run or turn on the television—both things I never feel energized enough for or peaceful enough to do, depending.
“How about you just say that you need my address?” I offer.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
She sighs. “Okay. Holt, I need your address so that I can come tomorrow after check-out. So probably around noon-ish.”
I shove off the glass. “Why don’t you just come now?”
“Because I just told you I’d come by tomorrow.”
I hear the edge in her voice—the one that serves as a warning not to push her. The strength and fearlessness in her tone makes me fucking hard. It also makes me want to push.
“Fair enough,” I throw back. “Stay in the room with the cryingbaby instead of coming to my house where I’ll be working in pure silence while ordering takeout. That makes total sense.”
I hold my breath as she analyzes my point. It’s a good one. I’m sure of it. The only way she won’t take me up on it is if she’s proving some other point to herself. Or if she pushes back just because I pushed first.
Which could happen.
“How about this?” I ask, rethinking my tactics. “I’ll text you my address. You are welcome to come at any time. If you get driven crazy by the colic kid tonight, come on by. Or wait until tomorrow. That’s cool too. Totally up to you.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says matter-of-factly.
I want to ask her another question just to keep her on the line, but Wade’s drawings taunt me from across the room, and I feel like maybe I can concentrate on them now.
