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I swiped a hand over my face, gentling my voice when I answered. “Soon, little love. She’ll be home soon.”
Eventually, I was able to distract her while we put together a puzzle, even though it was missing a piece, which bugged the living fuck out of me.
I glanced at the time. Zoe had been gone for a couple of hours, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was having fun. Even though I wasn’t close with Trey’s wife, he’d given me her number when I’d asked if they’d invite Zoe to their night out.
Me:How’s she doing?
Rochelle Wilkins:She’s sweet. I can see why you like her.
Me:WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT? No, I don’t.
Rochelle Wilkins:... right. Never mind.
Me:Tell your husband to quit gossiping when he’s at home.
Me:And tell him he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.
Rochelle Wilkins:I’ll do my best. Back to Zoe, though...
Rochelle Wilkins:She needed to get out of the house. You did the right thing.
I fucking hated the immediate warmth that spread through my chest. Taking care of Zoe wasn’t my responsibility. But bloody hell if I could convince that useless organ trapped under my ribs of this.
When she looked tired, I fought the urge to cup her face and trace the dark circles under her eyes. When she looked stressed, my fingers twitched from wanting to press all that tension out of her muscles. See if her skin was as smooth and soft as I’d imagined.
If I did that, I’d damn us both.
There was no universe in which I could touch her without consequences. The kind that shook the walls and cracked all the foundations that held our world intact. That’s what would happen if I kept letting this thing for her slide out unchecked.
Instead of replying to Rochelle, I tucked my phone away.
It buzzed almost immediately.
Zoe:Are you checking up on me?
Me:No.
Zoe:Liar. Now everyone is asking about you, and how unfair is that? I can’t even escape you at girls’ night.
Me:What are they asking? I can guarantee none of those women think anything good if they believe what their husbands say.
Zoe:I’m not telling you shit, Davies. The stuff they’re saying would inflate your ego too much.
Zoe:Ignore that. I shouldn’t text and drink. I’ll see you when I get home, unless you’re asleep, which would probably be safer for me because I never drink and I can’t have you holding any of this over my head.
I found myself fighting a grin. And at the thought of their husbands, I switched over to a different message thread and punched out a text with brutal taps of my thumbs.
Me:What the bloody fuck did you tell your wife about Zoe?
Trey:Nothing that wasn’t true, my friend.
Me:Oh please, be cryptic, I so enjoy it.
Trey:If I tell you the way your eyes changed when you saw her, you’d call me a fucking asshole and go about your night. But if she hasn’t noticed it yet, it won’t be long before she does.
Trey:I think she’d be good for you, if you’re wondering.
Me:I’m not. Fuck off.
