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CHAPTER TEN
Blake knocked on Erika’s door once before turning the knob to enter. As always, his own personal Walmart greeter was right there at the ready. Scooping Corky into his arms, he glanced around Erika’s apartment.
“Erik?”
“Be out in a minute,” she called from the bedroom.
Blake toed off his shoes, then traipsed over to the couch with Corky squirming in his arms. He found one of her chew toys, the two of them playing tug-of-war while the least fearsome dog he’d ever known gave him the most adorable growl. She shook her head violently, trying to get the toy. Twice he let go, letting her have it, chuckling every time she returned it to him, attempting to put it back in his hand so he would continue the game.
Blake considered everything that had happened today to lead him to this moment. He’d been disoriented upon waking this morning, but that feeling soon morphed to annoyance when he realized he was alone.
Erika had snuck out like a thief in the night. Not that he could blame her. He’d spent the evening comforting her—like a friend would—rather than telling her that his feelings for her had changed.
Well, changed was probably the wrong word. Once his teammates pointed out who she was to him, it had opened his eyes to the fact he’d been falling head over ass in love with the sexy doctor since the first day she’d moved in. Rather than open himself to the idea of pursuing a relationship with a wonderful, funny, intelligent woman, he’d accepted Erika’s decision that they couldn’t be more than friends. Actually, he’d grabbed onto it like a lifeline to save his so-called blissful bachelor lifestyle.
He’d been an oblivious fool.
Pissed that she’d taken off this morning, Blake had thrown on some clothes, prepared to march over to her apartment to inform her that they had a new status quo.
Probably not his best plan.
God only knew how Erika would have reacted if he’d thrown open her door and stated point-blank that he was her boyfriend. She most likely would have laughed in his face, and she should have. But he hadn’t just woken up alone. He’d woken up hard enough to drive nails into concrete, so there hadn’t been enough blood in his brain for him to approach her with more finesse or tact.
Or, you know, any tact at all.
All thoughts of dragging her back to his bed vanished the second he’d heard yelling coming from her apartment.
Blake ran a hand through his hair, the same anger he’d felt this morning returning. He couldn’t let himself think too hard about how badly Doug might have hurt her if he hadn’t intervened. He’d met assholes like Doug before. Jealous guys with bad tempers and too much pride were bad fucking news.
He hated that Erika felt guilty, felt like she’d somehow led the jerk on.
“Sorry,” Erika said as she entered the living room. “Did some laundry today…including putting clean sheets on the bed.”
Blake enjoyed not only the way she blushed when she talked about the clean sheets, but the fact she appeared to have done her hair and put on makeup. She was even wearing sexy skinny jeans and a pretty pink top with enough of a V-neck to give him the perfect peek of cleavage.
She was the queen of ponytails, lounge pants, and the natural look, so it wasn’t often he saw her with her hair down, her eyes accentuated with liner and mascara. Erika was hands down the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, with or without trying…but damn if he wasn’t pleased by her efforts tonight.
He’d worried a good bit today, concerned maybe he’d taken things too far, kissing her the way he had, letting her feel his hard-on. Blake had made it damn clear what he wanted to happen tonight, so he’d mentally prepared himself for her to kick up a fuss, to hit him with more of that “we’re better off as friends’’ bullshit.
Now, it appeared all his anxious feelings had been for naught because not only was Erika not offering any resistance, it appeared she was all-in.
“What do you want for dinner?” He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.
She waved, indicating he could put it away. “Don’t bother. I already ordered us a pizza. Hope that’s okay.”
He grinned. “Never met a pizza I wouldn’t eat. Unless it’s a Hawaiian one. Ham and pineapple on pizza is unnatural.”
She laughed. “I’ve already tried and failed to convert you to those toppings several times. I’ve long ago accepted that you don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to good pizza.”
“Says the woman who won’t eat buffalo chicken pizza,” he countered.
“It’s the buffalo, not the chicken.” She made a face, her aversion to spicy foods well documented. “Unlike you, I cannot drink hot sauce from the bottle. It should be here?—”
As if she’d summoned the pizza guy personally, the buzzer announcing she had company at the front entrance to the building went off. Erika crossed to the door. “Yes?” she said into the intercom.
“Pizza,” the guy said.
She buzzed him in, then met him at her door, giving him a tip and thanking him.
