“We’re both blond-haired, but Sean has brown eyes and is six feet tall. I’m the short one in the family.”
“Is he athletic, too?”
“He’s spent his life gaming and sitting at a desk, so he’s pretty out of shape. But when we were kids, he was athletic. He liked climbing, too, but he wasn’t obsessed with it like I am.”
But talking about Sean made her think of her parents and the angry message her mother had left this morning, accusing Sasha of deliberately keeping her in the dark.
We had no idea you’d almost been killed. We thought you’d crashed your bike.
Darius seemed to read her mind. “Don’t let your mother’s message bother you. Your parents are in the wrong. They should have been here, and they chose not to come.”
Sasha was tired of defending her parents, so she didn’t bother. “They’re pestering me to move back to California again. They think my living in Scarlet is the problem. They don’t know that it was the people in Scarlet—and a certain hot detective from Denver—who got me through this.”
“Want to hear a confession?”
“A confession? This sounds juicy. Do tell.”
“Two weeks ago, I might have agreed with your parents. I saw Scarlet as a small town full of…eccentricpeople. One square mile surrounded by reality. I couldn’t fathom why a woman with your good looks and talent would choose to live there. I was wrong about the town andmostof the people.”
“Really?”
“Sorry.” He kissed her hair. “It’s true.”
Sasha wasn’t surprised. Lots of people felt that way. “I’m glad your opinion of the town andmostof its people has changed.”
“I saw how they showed up for you every day in big ways and small. Most of us don’t have that kind of community. If I were surrounded with that kind of friendship, I wouldn’t want to leave, either.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.” Sasha wondered if he realized how much the people of Scarlet had come to care about him, but she let it go. She didn’t want to make him think she was pressuring him to stay with her or move to Scarlet. She knew that wasn’t practical, given where he worked.
Besides, his slow, persistent teasing of her breast was turning her thoughts in other directions. “Want to hear my confession?”
“Hit me.”
“I can’t wait until my ribs are healed so we can have sex without holding back.”
“I get turned on just thinking about that.” He was telling the truth, his cock growing hard behind her.
Sasha’s blood grew hotter. “I want to have sex without spending fifteen minutes trying to figure out the logistics every time.”
He nuzzled her ear, his voice deep and sexy. “How about you lean on the edge of the tub like you did before but get up on your knees? I promise I’ll take care of everything else.”
On Wednesday morning,Darius took Sasha to his favorite breakfast place. A little family-owned Creole joint decorated with Mardi Gras posters, it served the best damned eggs Benedict in Denver.
They got a seat next to a sunny window, where a friendly Black server named Angelica quickly took their orders. Darius suggested beignets, eggs Benedict, and mimosas, and Sasha was happy to try it all.
“I’ve never had eggs Benedict—or mimosas for that matter.”
Angelica gaped at her. “Girl, it’s about time.”
Darius seconded that. “You won’t be sorry.”
Angelica brought their drinks first—coffee, orange juice, champagne, and two flutes. “Your beignets should be right out.”
Darius opened the champagne, poured a little into their flutes, then topped it off with orange juice. He handed Sasha her mimosa, and raised his glass. “To you.”
Sasha took a sip, her eyes going wide. “That’s really good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
