Page 42 of Dreamscape Therapies

Chapter Fifteen

I'm sprawled on my couch, flipping through channels when I land on the news. A perky anchor is mid-sentence: "A group of monkeys have escaped a zoo in southern California after discovering a giant enchanted crochet hook. They then used the hook to unravel every locked gate."

Of course they did. Because apparently my subconscious has decided that yarn-related chaos is my entire personality now.

The anchor continues, "More about this story at six," and I'm about to change the channel when the screen glitches. The anchor is a monkey now, and she's frogging the news desk while another monkey turns the yarn into a plane.

What the fuck kind of drugs am I on?

Chapter Sixteen

Vincent

I'm elbow-deep in spreadsheets when Mia pokes her grinning head into my office. "There's a beautiful Asian man at the bar asking for you by name."

My heart does something stupid in my chest. "Tell him I'll be right there."

"Of course." Mia's grin gets wider, and she disappears before I can tell her not to make that face.

I look at the spreadsheet on my desk for approximately three seconds before shoving my chair back, running both hands through my hair, and checking my shirt for barbecue sauce.

Normal. Just be totally normal.

I make it halfway across the bar before I see him.

Jay is standing at the booth talking to Eric, and the afternoon sunlight pouring through the front windows catches the dark shine of his hair. He's smiling at something Eric said, head tipped back slightly, and for one completely irrational second, the entire room seems to slow down.

He looks so beautiful.

And then jealousy hits me so hard it catches me off guard.

Eric says something else that makes Jay laugh, and I decide in that moment that I officially hate Eric.

I should be the one making him laugh like that, not Eric.

Apparently my inner alpha agrees because something low and possessive stirs beneath my ribs.

Mine.

I shove the thought down so hard it practically gives me a headache.

Not mine. Nope. He is absolutely not my anything.

I mean, he is my therapist.

My very attractive therapist.

Get a grip, Vincent.

I cross the floor with what is probably the dopiest grin known to man.

"You made it,” I say, and the second the words leave my mouth, I want to kick myself. I sound like he's just returned from a six-month deployment overseas instead of walking through my front door.

Jay's grin widens. "Well, you did offer me free food." He shrugs, trying to sound casual. "Can't pass up a deal like that."

"And I'm sure that's the only reason you're here."

"One hundred percent."