“What the fuck, Fuller?” I lightly punch him in the shoulder.
“You have the right to go after what you want.” He pushes the water glass in front of him to the side so he can rest his elbow on the bar. “Drake’s off living his life. You need to do that too. If you feel a connection with this woman, act on it. If it turns into more than a hookup, Drake will have to deal.”
“It won’t turn into more.” I shake my head. “Emma lives in Seattle. I’m grounded in California.”
“So, you have fun while you’re both in New York.” He glances at his watch. “You and Emma are adults. You can handle this and Drake if it comes to that.”
I swallow what’s left of the scotch in my glass. “It won’t come to that. We’re going our separate ways in a few days. If anything happens between Emma and I, it ends when we leave New York.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Emma
Lazybones.
That’s one of the nicknames my dad gifted me with.
I held onto that proudly the summer after eighth grade when I couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed until noon most days.
That lasted all of two weeks before my dad ordered me to get up as he was leaving for work one day. He handed me a list of chores that needed to be done around the house.
My reward for completing the list was a new wardrobe for high school.
I spent most of that summer at home tending to my mother’s vegetable garden and painting the massive picket fence surrounding their property. The hard work and commitment to complete every task on the list taught me the value of getting out of bed early.
I thought that my internal clock would have kept me snoozing until at least nine a.m. New York time, but it’s barely past seven and I’m wide awake.
This is solid proof that I’ve outgrown the Lazybones nickname for good.
I crawl out of bed and dash to the door of my room.
I didn’t hear Case come home last night because I fell asleep twenty minutes after he left.
Resting my right ear against the door, I whisper, “I hope you’re in your bed.”
“Alone,” I tack on for good measure before I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath.
Even though the only thing that happened between us last night was some innocent handholding, it was more action with a man than I’ve seen since I agreed to go on my first date with Beauregard.
Since I hear absolutely nothing coming from outside the door, I stretch. “He’s asleep. He’s fast asleep dreaming about you.”
Sighing, I look around the room.
It’s much bigger than the bedroom in my condo. Since I’m all about space and comfort when I sleep, I managed to squeeze a king-sized bed into the room when I moved in. If I want to open my dresser drawers, I have to stand to the side, since they hit the foot of the bed before they are fully open.
I don’t plan on staying in that condo forever, but for now, it’s an almost perfect fit.
I hear a knock in the distance.
Pressing my ear to the door again, I wonder if it’s Case.
Silence greets me.
Swinging around, I grab a pair of black yoga shorts off an armchair in the corner. It’s become the collection zone for my clothes. Every morning, I tidy things up, make the bed, and hide my suitcase in the closet.
A persistent louder knock starts up.
I trek across the room and open the door to peer out.
