Page 57 of Bad Run

“What do you care about?” Gwen asks. She looks away as if appalled by her own question. A pink flush paints her cheeks.

I don’t know how to answer her question without confusing the situation we are stuck in further.

Do I want Gwen? Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.

But can I have her? I don’t know.

Our situation is complicated. She works for the Evaders. Her father is the damn owner. We would be risking our careers by diving into something we weren’t sure about.

But I can’t deny there is something between us. It was there then, and it’s here now, drawing me in and tempting me to take the risk.

In three strides, I close the gap between us, tucking my finger under her chin and forcing her to look me in the eye.

“I care about you,” I admit, landing on the answer closest to the truth without crossing the line.

“I care about you too, Lance,” she whispers.

After treating her so terribly when she waltzed back into my life, I don’t deserve her words, but I eat them up like a starved man anyway.

The energy in the air shifts as I stare down at her. She tilts her head back, presenting her lips to me like a gift.

Kissing her is a bad idea.

And yet, I slide my hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, our chests touching. She’s a lot shorter without her sexy six-inch heels on her feet, so I bend my knees, lowering myself so we’re nose to nose. Lips millimeters apart. I can practically taste her sweet breath on my lips.

The dog beside us barks, and Gwen rears back, breaking the spell we’re both under.

So close.

One of the employees of the shelter enters the room, and Gwen places her hands on my chest and steps back, putting space between us.

Without skipping a beat, she switches into business mode and lets the employee know we are done. The worker takes hold of our kiss-blocking furry friend and disappears down the corridor to return the dog to its cage.

We both turn to face one another in awkward silence, neither of us sure what to say.

Gwen tucks her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Thank you for, uh, coming today.”

“Didn’t really have a choice. Someone put my name down without my knowledge.” I raise my brow at her, trying to lighten the mood.

Gwen grins. “You knew.”

“I thought you were bluffing.”

“I never bluff, Mr. Taylor.”

“Duly noted,” I grind out, fighting back a groan. Turns out, her calling me Mr. Taylor with that sultry voice of hers makes me hard.

Gwen reaches for the backdrop, but I stop her.

“Let me take care of this while you pack up the cameras.”

“Thanks.”

As we gather the equipment, Gwen and I make light conversation.

I listen as she fills me in on the Easter event she hosted for children at the local Boys and Girls Club, where Lucas almost puked in the giant bunny costume he was asked to wear. He was so whiny about the costume’s smell; Gwen said he made the toddlers look well-mannered.

I grin at the thought of Snell shooting himself in the foot where Gwen is concerned.