Page 19

After dinner, June makes coffee and brings out a chocolate pie. Casey demolishes her slice in under a minute, then starts scrolling her phone. Naomi helps her mom clear the table, their movements so in sync I realize they’ve been doing this dance their entire lives.

I end up alone with June at the table, the low hum of voices in the background. She watches me, then says, “You seem like a good man, Wyatt.”

I hold her gaze. “I try. Most days, I don’t screw it up too bad.”

She sets her cup down and leans in. “If you hurt my daughter, I’ll make your life living hell⁠—”

“I won’t,” I say, cutting her off. “I love Naomi more than life itself. I’d rather cut off my own hand than cause her any pain.”

She nods, then sits back, satisfied. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

A minute later, Naomi comes back, cheeks flushed from the kitchen heat. “Ready to go?” she asks, but the way she says it makes it sound like a question only I can answer.

I stand, thank June, and promise Casey I’ll come back with stories about the club next time. Casey smirks and says, “Don’t forget to invite me to your next security breach.”

Naomi walks me to the door, fingers laced through mine. Outside, the air is cool and full of night-blooming flowers and the faintest hint of cut grass.

“I’m sorry if that was—” she starts.

“Don’t be,” I cut her off. “They’re great. You’re great.”

She smiles, then kisses me, slow and careful. “Drive safe.”

“I’ll text when I’m home.”

I walk back to my SUV feeling lighter than I have in years. I drive home with the windows down, the night air sharp and sweet, and the taste of her lips on mine.

For the first time, I start to believe in things like luck. And maybe, just maybe, love at first sight.

The first thing I notice when I get back to my house is how goddamn quiet it is. Fucking hell, I need to find a way to convince Naomi to move in before I lose my goddamn mind.

A few days later, Naomi steps in and slips off her shoes by the door and drops her purse on the counter. She pads across the living room floor like she’s lived here all her life warming me up from the inside out. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie I gave her last week, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and she looks so fucking cute it physically hurts.

She grins, then tucks herself into the corner of the couch. “Sit with me?”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I drop onto the sofa and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

She nudges me, soft. “What’s wrong?”

“I missed you yesterday,” I admit. Our schedules didn’t line up this week and I had to work two days without her. It fucking sucked to spend nine hours without seeing her.

“Wanna talk about it, or just sit here and let me think up new ways to distract you?”

“Depends,” I say, “Are your ways legal in this state?”

She gives a dramatic sigh. “You wound me, sir. I am a respectable lady.”

I snort. “Says the woman who let me eat her out on the kitchen counter last week.” Just remembering the encounter causes my cock to turn to stone in my jeans. Fuck. I need to start wearing looser pants when Naomi is around.

She rolls her eyes and curls tighter against me. “I regret nothing.”

Her fingers drift over my arm, tracing the pattern of the tattoo she always pretends not to be obsessed with. I want to freeze this moment, live inside it. But I know what’s coming next.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Anything.”

She looks up at me, her eyes huge and serious. “You never talk about your parents.”