“Sounds dangerous.”
“They are harmless.”
“You just listed an entire emergency response unit and construction support.”
“They love hockey. That helps.”
“What if I’m a serial killer?”
I gave him a look and shrugged, knowing the truly evil one would already be at that table. “You’re a hockey player.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s enough.”
His eyes warmed with amusement. “You hate hockey players though.”
“I distrust them on principle.”
“And yet you’re inviting me to your apartment and Sunday dinner.”
“For school,” I said immediately.
“Right.”
“Do not say it like that.”
“I didn’t say anything like anything.”
“You absolutely did.”
His smile cut deeper then, quiet and unfair and full of those stupid dimples that should have been illegal in at least three states. “What time?”
“Eleven for the apartment,” I said. “Dinner is at five-thirty, but you can meet me there if—and I do mean if—you decide the project sounds like something you can do.”
“If I agree,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“Oh, I’ll be there five-thirty sharp.”
The answer came easy. Immediate. Like there had never really been a possibility he’d say no.
For some reason, that settled strangely warm beneath my ribs.
I pointed toward the beer pong table where Briggs had now climbed onto a chair for absolutely no responsible reason. “And now I unfortunately have to go stop your friend from becoming a campus safety email.”
Cade glanced over calmly. “Honestly, that could describe any of them.”
“You included?”
His gaze slid back to mine, quieter this time. “Not usually.”
The way he said it made my stomach do that annoying little flip again.
Bear. Bear. Bear. The bear was the safer option, Bliss, you hormonal idiot.
Before I could think too hard about never-minding the whole thing, Charm appeared beside me holding two drinks and looking deeply invested in everyone else’s business.
