“Be out in a minute!” His voice was strong and steady. He was allright.
Pulse decelerating, I dragged the heels of my hands into my eyes. Something buzzed. I shot my gaze to my bag which I’d set on one of his barstools. I plodded over and dug my cell phoneout.
There was a message from Matt:In front of your door.Ready?
I checked the time, then mumbled, “Shoot, shoot, shoot,” just as the door of the bathroom opened and steam billowed out, thickening the air with August’sscent.
ME:I’m not at my place. Can you pick me up at the warehouse? And it’s NOT what youthink.
MATT:I’ll be right over. And the fact that you’re telling me that it’s not what I think means it’s exactly what Ithink.
ME:Your logic isillogical.
MATT:Apparently that’s what you told Cole last time he was over at August’splace.
MATT:Be there in a sec. We like our coffees with lots ofmilk.
“What’s going on?” Augustasked.
“Matt and Cole are on their way over here. They think . . .” I set my phone down on the smooth slab of ruffled wood. “I’m sure you can guess what theythink.”
“Are you worried they’re going to tellLiam?”
“No. Why—oh!” My eyes went wide. With everything going on, I’d completely forgotten about his ban. But then I reasoned that I hadn’t broken any rules, because August and I weren’t together,together.
“Might want to inform him so he doesn’t schedule your duel fortoday.”
I worried the inside of my mouth, surely deepening my dimples. “I’ll call him later. Right now, I have to get ready. May I use thebathroom?”
“Go rightahead.”
I carried my bag inside and quickly changed into my exercise bra and running shorts, then put yesterday’s tank top on and brushed my teeth. Tying up my hair, I returned into the kitchen where August was brewing coffee. He’d pulled on a pair of mesh shorts and a short sleeved T-shirt.
“You’re feeling up to running?” I asked, grabbing a glass and filling it with tapwater.
“Yeah.”
“Nothinghurts?”
“Just my neck.” He rubbed the back of it. “But that’s probably from falling asleep sittingup.”
“Can’t believe I slept. I’d suck as anurse.”
He smiled. “I’m sure plenty of bedridden men would disagree withyou.”
Leaning back against the island, I shook my head and drank my fill. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better about my lousyjob.”
“I survived the night. And I feel absolutely fine. I promise. You can stop worrying aboutme.”
“Can youshift?”
He held out his arm and concentrated. When brown fur didn’t sprout from his pores, he shook hishead.
“Then I’m not doneworrying.”
The coffee maker behind him began to gurgle and dribble dark, sweetly charred liquid into the glasscarafe.
“Dimples. . .”
