“I know you are,” Luke said.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head.
What?
Oh my God.
“How do you know?” I whispered.
“A woman like you, a woman who looks like you, doesn’t save herself for twenty-six f**kin’ years then gives it to a guy she’s known a couple of days because she feels in the mood for an adventure.”
This was true.
Shit.
This meant Duke was right. Men did know a lot more about the way a woman’s mind works than we wanted them to know.
I decided this was not a good thing especially if Vance had figured out the same thing.
I was f**ked.
I decided not to think about it at all, ever or at least not until tomorrow.
“Nearly twenty-seven,” I said in an attempt to be amusing and steer us away from a tense subject.
One side of his mouth went up in a grin. I thought that I’d succeeded. I was wrong.
“With Vance or without, you always got me.”
I felt that weight hit my chest, tears heavy there and I sucked in breath to control them.
“Thank you,” I whispered because I didn’t know what else to say, “you too. You, um, always got me too.”
He shook his head, touched his finger to my nose then he was gone.
I stared at the door that he’d closed behind him.
Wow.
* * * * *
Hazel, Boo and I went right to Vance’s cabin without one glance at Vance’s directions.
Boo was not used to car rides and told me he didn’t like them overly much. Indeed, he described his displeasure at length. Then he asked if this was an unheard of nocturnal visit to his most hated person in the world, the vet. When I assured him we were going to see Vance, not the vet, he sat on my thigh and dug his claws into my flesh to hold on and started purring.
Crazy f**king cat.
We parked close to the cabin door next to Vance’s Harley. With my bag and purse over my shoulder, Boo’s litter box in my hand and Boo tucked under my other arm, we made our awkward way to the cabin. The curtains were open, the windows were lit and the light coming into the surrounding darkness seemed warm and welcoming.
I opened the door and dropped Boo who immediately began to explore. I put his litter box in the corner.
Vance wasn’t in the room but the buffalo-shaded floor lamp was lit and the cabin was warm, far warmer than the last time I was there.
It was nearly midnight and I figured Vance was asleep. I was wrong.
He walked down the hall, feet bare, still wearing his clothes. He stopped at the entry into the living room and leaned a shoulder against it. His hair was not pulled back. He looked relaxed, at ease, at home and hot.
“Hey,” I said.