“I’m serious, Reece. My dad is… well, he’s protective. Overly so. And after—” I cut myself off, the memory surfacing before I can stop it.
“After what?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s ancient history.”
He watches me for a long moment, then nods. “Okay. But for the record, if we’re doing this, eventually he’s going to figure it out. Bishop’s not stupid.”
“Then we’ll deal with it when it happens. Not before.”
“Fair enough.” He pushes off the desk. “Any other rules?”
I think about it, trying to ignore how my pulse kicks up now that we’re circling around our agreement. “This stays casual. No expectations, no pressure. We’re both adults. If it stops working, we walk away clean.”
“Clean.”
“No drama.”
“Got it.”
“I mean it, Reece. I don’t do messy breakups or public meltdowns or any of the reality TV nonsense.”
“Neither do I.”
“Your ex would disagree.”
His jaw tightens. “Lena and I were over long before it ended. She dragged it out for attention. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
There’s something in his voice, bitter and tired. A story I don’t know yet. Maybe won’t ever know if we keep this casual.
The thought bothers me more than it should.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Okay.”
“Okay, yes?”
“We can try. Dinner. Maybe a movie if you don’t chew loudly.”
“I don’t chew loudly.”
“Everyone says they don’t chew loudly. Then you’re stuck in a theater with someone who eats popcorn through an entire action sequence.”
“Noted. Quiet chewing only.”
“And no sports metaphors. If you compare me to baseball even once, I’m out.”
He grins. “You’re really setting the bar very high.”
“I have standards.”
“You have walls.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even close.” He takes a step forward, and my traitorous body leans in before my brain catches up. “But I’ll take the walls if it means getting to know what’s behind them.”
