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She was smart, driven, beautiful, and had a mouth on her that could cut a man down to size in three words or less.

She didn't need anyone to rescue her. Didn't need anyone to take care of her. And she sure as hell didn't need me. Which, for reasons I couldn't explain, only made me want to be the guy she chose anyway.

I'd never told her what her contact name was, mainly because I had a healthy respect for my own survival.

"Hello, beautiful,” I answered.

"Oh, is my mom with you?"

"Nope."

"Who are you with?"

"No one."

A pause.

"Then why did you call me—" She stopped herself. I could practically hear her eyes rolling. "Never mind."

I chuckled. "Something on your mind, sweetheart?"

"Yes. My mother."

"She's not here yet."

"Yes, I realize that."

"You checking up on me?"

"I'm checking on…the situation."

"And what situation would that be?"

"Damon," my name came out as a warning.

"Mikayla," I copied her tone.

"Please don't make this difficult.”

I could hear the stress in her voice.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She sighed. I’d noticed she did that a lot around me.

"Just remember," she said, "my mom is like a human lie detector. She can sniff out deception, so just keep things simple."

"Simple. Got it."

"No elaborate stories."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"No unnecessary details."

"Understood."

"And do not let her bully you into agreeing to anything."