Page 66 of Blue Line

I move so I can look at him, contemplating his question. “I—”

“I know you said just sex, but let me show you how good we could be together, and not just in the bedroom.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I should tell him no. That we need to keep things to just the bedroom. But if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know if that’s what I really want.

“One date. And nothing fancy or over the top,” I tell him, because that feels like a good compromise. I open my eyes to find him studying me.

“Counteroffer. One date with the potential for more.”

I contemplate his suggestion for a few beats.

“Fine. We’ll play it by ear, but nothing is guaranteed.”

“Deal. Now lie down and cuddle me.”

I snuggle against him. That’s the last thing I remember before I drift off to sleep.

Chapter twenty-six

Hadley

“So,” Wes says from where he’s leaning against the counter, sipping coffee a few days later. “We’re still on for today, right? For our date?”

“I’m a woman of my word, and I said I’d go out with you, so I will. I have my interview at eleven thirty, but it shouldn’t last more than an hour.”

“Just making sure you weren’t changing your mind. We can go whenever you’re done.”

“Yes, Weston Wilson, I want to go out with you.” And I do. I really do. The more time I spend with him, the more I enjoy his company.

He chuckles. “Not my middle name. How do you keep coming up with different names to try?” He walks over to the fridge and opens it, pulling out the carton of eggs. “Are you keeping track? Tell me all the things.”

“I have a little notebook where I write down all the names I’ve tried. I also have a baby book of names in my room that I consult.”

His eyes get wide, as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m being serious or not, and I force myself to keep a straight face. After a few seconds, he shrugs and starts making breakfast.

“I’m kidding. I don’t have a notebook. I just have a good memory. If you’d tell me what your middle name is, we wouldn’t have to go through this whole song and dance, Weston Jack.”

“Maybe I enjoy this whole song and dance, Hadley Jane.”

I shake my head at him, even though he can’t see me, all the while smiling because I think I enjoy this whole song-and-dance too. Actually, I know I enjoy it. It started off as me trying to get under his skin, but now it’s turned into what feels like a little inside joke between us.

Our thing.

And I find myself enjoying having that with someone.

I clear my throat, pushing those thoughts out of my head. “I should probably go get ready.” I finish the rest of my coffee and set my mug down.

He turns to me, the spatula in his hand. “Want some of these eggs, or I can make you something else?”

I put a hand to my stomach that’s starting to hurt. “Maybe a piece of toast. I’m too nervous to eat anything else.”

He sets the spatula down and grabs the loaf of bread from the counter. “You go start getting ready, and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, backing out of the kitchen and hurrying into my room.

“Hadley, tell me about yourself,” the guy I’m interviewing with says.

I take a deep breath and launch into my spiel, highlighting the photography projects and gigs I’ve taken on over the years. I probably ramble on for longer than necessary, but oh well.