Page 33 of Intrepid

“I’m sorry, Bea. I didn’t mean to tangle you up in my shit.” Slapping a hand to my forehead, I fell onto the couch, and at the prod of the TV remote hitting my ass, I winced and pulled it out from under me. “Ty had nothing to do with any of this, then.”

Wearing a confused expression, she shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“I got a text yesterday. Stalkerish. Anyway, he claimed to be Ty. And I believed him, because he mentioned the Savarine and riding on Ty’s Ducati. He knew things, ya know?”

“Ty rides a Ducati? Fuck me. Is there anything not hot about him?”

“No. But it doesn’t matter, because I told him—”

A knock at the door skated down my nerves, and both Bea and I shot a glance toward the door and back to each other. Finger pressed to my lips, I gestured for her to be quiet, and grabbed my phone just in case, tiptoeing toward the entrance. Through the peephole, Ty stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, those blue eyes burning holes into my conscience, and I glanced back at Bea, shaking my head to let her know it wasn’t Dane.

With remorse needling my stomach, I took a breath, opened the door, and jumped head first into my apology. “I’m sorry. I … thought.” I tapped the phone to my forehead, to settle the jumbling of words in my skull. “I got a text yesterday. A scary one. I thought you sent it.”

“You never gave me your phone number.”

“How did you … get in? By the way?”

“Another student let me in.”

I shook my head, and folded my arms over my chest. “Just like that? Just … let a complete stranger into the building?”

He shrugged and licked his lips, before they widened into a wolfish grin. “I told her that I had to make things right with my girl.”

“Your girl?” Brow cocked, I kicked my head to the side, slanting him a narrow-eyed look. “That’s a bit fast, don’t you think?”

“I had to make it convincing. Woulda sounded like an asshole if I’d have called you some chick that was grinding all over me at the club.”

I bit my cheek to stifle a smile and slapped his arm. “I was not grinding on you. Other way around, as I recall.”

With a step closer, he leaned against the doorframe and stared down at me. Crossing his arms brought the bulge of his biceps to my attention, and the memory of those guns wrapped around me at the club. “So, you giving it to me? Your phone number?”

“Is that why you came here? Following me again?”

“I didn’t follow you. I came here to ask you out.”

I was certain the dimples popped out on my cheeks, as I shook my head. “You’re persistent.”

“I prefer tenacious. Sounds better.”

I chewed on my lip, arms crossed. “And if I said yes, where would you take me?”

“Someplace you’ve never been before.”

“What makes you so sure I’ve not been there?”

“If you have, I’d be pretty surprised.” His hand disappeared inside his pants pocket, and he pulled out his phone. “What’s your phone number?”

“What’s yours?”

Brow cocked, he stood with his thumb hovering over the screen, ready to punch in the number. “Ladies first.”

I rattled off the seven digits, and he added me to his contacts. “Do I get yours?”

“I’ll text you.” Eyes on me, he slid the phone back into his pocket.

“If I get any more creepy texts from here on out, you’re considered a suspect until I know your number. Just letting you know.”

“What qualifies as creepy?”