My heart is practically beating out of my chest and I’m not sure if it’s in fear or excitement.
Maybe both.
I burst into the rain, jogging the rest of the way home like the city might swallow me whole.
It’s not until I’m safely inside, door locked behind me, drenched and shivering…
…that I realize I never paid for the pizza.
Chapter Two
ANOTHER CRUMB-Y DAY
“Let me walk you home from the hotel tonight, Kallie,” Casey says, his voice warm and hopeful.
I start to shake my head, but he barrels on.
“I can meet you after your shift. Maybe we can grab a drink at that little corner speakeasy you love. My treat.”
He waggles his light brown eyebrows at that last part, trying, and failing, to make me laugh.
It’s the same conversation we’ve had a hundred times over the last two years—whenever I have back-to-back shifts from the Gilded Bean to the Hôtel Château Blanc. I usually clock out around eleven p.m., well after dark, and Casey insists on playing escort.
My answer is always the same:I’ll be fine.
The buses still run. The streets are quiet. I do this all week, every week, without issue.
Tonight won’t be any different.
Still, he’s laying the golden retriever puppy charm on extra thick. Paired with those green-hazel eyes of his behind glasses, I almost cave.
Almost.
“You just want to get me drunk,” I tease, waving a finger over my shoulder as I pack a sandwich for dinner.
“Maybe.” His voice dips slightly. “We haven’t gone out in a while. And you look cute with your cheeks all flushed from the alcohol.”
That… doesn’t sound like a joke.
I turn to look at him and immediately regret it. He’s standing closer now, one arm resting on the counter beside me, his bare chest radiating heat.
His eyes burn with something I can’t name. The look is intense enough that I shift on my feet under the weight of it.
No wonder women fall at his feet. Being on the receiving end of a look likethatwould make anyone go weak in the knees.
If he continues to try it on me, mine might go weak too.
But just as quickly, he clears his throat, pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose, and steps back. He looks away, trying to play it cool.
“You shouldn’t walk alone in the dark,” he says, quieter now, but his hazel eyes are serious.
I sigh.
It’s bad enough he could charm the panties off anyone with those impossibly long lashes and the smattering of freckles on his nose, but he has to do the arguing without a shirt on? Like his abs might guilt me into giving up my only alone time?
Nice try, Roomie.
The truth is, that twenty-minute bus ride is the only time I get to myself to enjoy something fun—like reading a smutty novel where Captain Gorgeous isthisclose to seducing the maiden-in-disguise in the candlelit captain’s quarters. If Casey came along, he’d talk the whole time… and I’d miss the only action I’m getting this week.
