I gaped. “Doctor Grady!”
His grin deepened. “And here I was thinking you were a nice girl.”
Nice girl. The way he said it made my chest feel tight and tingly all at once.
“You’d be surprised,” I said—way too fast. And way too flirty.
Our eyes locked, and suddenly everything in the room felt warmer. More electric. Like we were holding our breath, waiting to see who would lean in first.
But then I laughed—too loudly, maybe—and reached for my wine like it could cool the flush crawling up my neck. “Okay, but for the record, it was after hours.”
He bumped my shoulder with his. “Nothing wrong with a happily ever after.”
Then, with an ease that made my heart thump, he took the remote from my hand. “It sure as hell beats watching people beat each other up.”
“Right then. No guns, no blood,” I agreed, grateful for the shift.
“What about this one?” he offered, pausing on Leap Year.
I didn’t tell him I’d seen it a million times. It was perfect.
“As long as you don’t mind,” I murmured, curling my legs beneath me again.
I wasn’t sure which felt more dangerous—the wine, the way he looked at me, or the slow, delicious undoing of all our rules.
He tossed me one of the pillows and then got up to pour us both a little more wine. When he climbed back onto the bed, he was closer than before.
“I’m glad you came by,” he said, voice low. “I missed you at dinner.”
That simple sentence made my stomach flip. And when I looked at him, I forgot about the movie completely.
Because those eyes—those fathomless stormy eyes—were locked on mine.
And all I could think about was the way his hands had felt on my skin. The way I’d thought about him in the shower. The way I'd needed to touch myself just to take the edge off.
Friends, right?
“So…” I said, all but grasping for a safe topic. “How are your pets doing? Jumbo sticking to his diet? Pippa ever make it home?”
He smiled, indulgent. Like he knew exactly what I was doing. But that didn’t keep him from grabbing his phone, opening it to more pictures, and then handing it over for my inspection.
“Your pet sitter seems dedicated,” I commented as I scrolled through the images. Two goldfish—it was obvious which one was Plink and which was Jumbo—swimming side by side in a good-sized tank, Pippa stretched out in a sunny patch on the floor, the fish again diving after little flakes of food.
“Simon knows I require proof.” He swiped over to the most recent pictures, time-stamped earlier in the afternoon. “Pippa is still checking in regularly, but, unfortunately, Jumbo looks like he’s gained a few hundred milligrams. But so far, they’re all still alive.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” I laughed, but Noah was shaking his head.
“Maybe.” Like he didn’t quite believe it.
“Of course, they are.”
Noah didn’t argue with me.
And maybe I could blame it on the wine, but…I had questions. And for once, the two of us weren’t surrounded by a bunch of nosy nellies.
“I know…” I swallowed. “I know why I shouldn’t get involved with anyone right now,” I said, staring at the ice in my wine, watching the way it bobbed in the glass. “But…what’s holding you back?”
His eyes darkened. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, voice low and rough, and somehow closer. “Hell, Luna. I’ve wanted to…from the first minute I saw you.”
