THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,230

to alert me to his presence. Such a chivalrous prince, that Steven Warner. We haven’t spoken since he came home from his training trip in Arizona—since his drunken phone call that he no doubt is embarrassed about. I grab my gym bag and head out the front door, taking care to lock both of the new deadbolts. I hear Gunner whine from the other side of the door and I’m reassured knowing he’ll be right there when I return.

The car that trailed me for a couple days isn’t that big of a deal. Spies are everywhere in Virginia Beach. You’d be surprised by how frequently they pop up in normal places. The grocery store clerk, the bartender, the hot blonde who poses as a frog hog just to gain information about the guys. Specifically, spies looking for any information about SEALs are everywhere. They’re harmless for the most part. I know that’s what it has to be. When Stone died, my photo was plastered everywhere. It’s someone who wants information, or a piece of Stone. Perhaps they’re just curious. They don’t want to harm me in anyway. Or, that’s what I’ve told myself over and over as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep at night. The honest truth is that I don’t feel safe.

I pull the handle of the passenger door of Steven’s truck and climb inside. His scent hits me like a freight train. It’s all man and so mouth wateringly hot that I can’t help a faint sigh. I’ve missed the buffoon—everything about him.

I turn to him and find his eyes already wandering over my body. He’s not wearing a smile and his jaw works. “Nice to see you still breathing,” he says.

Setting my bag on the floor, I ignore his jab. I’ve wanted to tell him about everything. About the car, about the hooded man my cameras caught creeping in my garden, about how sometimes Gunner barks at the window when I don’t see anything, but that would mean relinquishing power. I can’t. That’s not me.

“I’ve missed you, too.” I cross my legs. The black spandex workout shorts ride up, showing him exactly what he’s missed.

His eyes dart down to the high hem. “You make a man fucking crazy.” Steven closes his eyes and strokes the stubble on his chin. Opening his eyes and sighing heavily, he merely shakes his head and starts driving toward the boxing gym.

“You can’t pretend I haven’t always been this person,” I admit, after we’re out of my driveway. He should know better than to try to take control of things. “You did miss me, didn’t you?” I ask, realizing he hasn’t said anything remotely flirty since I graced his presence. This workout outfit took entirely too much planning for him to act indifferent.

His gaze flicks to me and then back to the road. “Morganna Sterns needs reassurance, does she? That’s a novel idea. Give me a second to wrap my mind around that one.” His biceps bulge and release as he grips the steering wheel in an attempt to control something. God knows he’s not controlling me right now.

I grab his arm. “Of course I don’t need reassurance. I’m trying, Steven. I want things to be okay between us. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who has apologizing to do.”

“After you sent me a teenaged text message expressing your true feelings I’ve decided that you needed to do some talking before I beg your queenly forgiveness. Lay it out for me, because I’m not taking any less than one hundred percent anymore. I’ve tried, good God, I’ve tried. I can’t pretend it’s good enough anymore.”

His words drip with jealousy and anger. I admit the text was a bad move. He knows I love him. I’ve always loved him. Growing up, I love you was a normal phrase in everyday conversation. How can you not love a man that balances you so well as a best friend…and now as a potential match? It did mean something more when I texted him, but he shouldn’t look at it any differently.

“I shouldn’t have sent that. I needed you to know that I care about you and about us,” I explain. “You were asking, drunkenly mind you, things of me that I couldn’t give you. What this queen is saying now in person is that I love you, Steven. I care about you.”

His face stays indifferent, cold, as we pull into a front-row parking spot. He walks around to open my door