Casey chuckles and leans against my desk. His abs flex, dragging my attention despite myself. “Hey, I’m only trying to help.”
He gives methatlook, his lips tilted in a lazy half-smile, lashes low over his greenish-hazel eyes, the kind of gaze that lingers a second too long and sees more than I want it to.
On any other woman, that look alone would likely make her melt.
But I’ve built up some immunity.
He’s like this even when he’s not trying. Casey wouldn’t be Casey without exuding male sex appeal. I’ve grown used to it.Mostly.
But something’s different between us lately. As the silence stretches on, the air in my room grows thick with that same strange tension that’s been building between us for weeks—almost charged as we stare at one another.
I nibble my bottom lip. Nervous habit.
His eyes, more green than hazel today, track the motion.
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
My phone alarm blares, making us both jump.
“Ugh. That’s my ‘get up or miss the bus’ alarm,” I groan. “Not that it helps me today. I don’t have my ID, my bus pass, or any of my credit cards. So that’s fun.”
Casey pulls his wallet from his back pocket and peels out a twenty. “Here. Should be enough for a taxi or something, yeah?”
“Oh, thanks, but no thanks. I can’t take that from you,” I reply, shaking him off.
Fuck knows he’s as frugal as I am. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s his money for lunch. His favorite place is a little sandwich shop that only accepts cash.
I can’t stomach the thought of taking his hard-earned money from him.
He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but I cut him off. “My card’s attached to my Ryde app. I’ll use that. But first I need to stop by the place where Imighthave left my bag.”
He studies me for a beat too long. He sees more than I’m saying. He always does. Dammit.
“You’ve got another shift at the hotel tonight, don’t you?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Not today. Just the dog walking. And we’vehadthis conversation, Casey.”
“How’d I know you’d say that?” he mutters. “Fine, fine. Get abducted. Just know I’ll come for you and I don’t look good in orange.”
I snort. “You look good ineverything,” I tease.
He blinks, clearly thrown. The compliment hits him square in the chest and his gaze drops for half a second, like he’s recalibrating, then lifts back to mine with that dazed, trying-to-play-it-cool expression he gets when he’s caught off guard.
“If you’re sure,” he says finally.
“I am,” I reply, stepping toward him. “But thanks. Really.”
I gently pat his chest in reassurance before turning to leave my room.
I glance at the time on my phone and groan. I have just enough time to stop by Fangerella’s. Maybe. I might be a few minutes late, but like, who’s counting?
“I have to go. See you later!” I call, bolting out of our apartment, only stopping to check the handle to make sure it’s locked before I go.
I fire off a quick text to my first dog walking client explaining the situation and order a Ryde to pick me up at Fangerella’s.
The second I hit the sidewalk, I pick up my pace. The city streets are bustling with morning traffic, a symphony of honking horns and unintelligible voices all around me. I weave through the crowds, skillfully avoiding collisions with pedestrians and cyclists alike.
Man, night issomuch easier.
