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“Please tell me you aren’t one of those people who puts pineapple on your pizza.”
“You mean the kind of people who have excellent taste?”
Blake groaned. “Fruit does not belong on pizza.”
Devon grinned because she knew she had him.
“You realize tomatoes are technically a fruit, right?”
“I’m hanging up now,” he teased.
“No, you’re not.” She knew better.
His deep laughter was like a soothing balm to her troubled soul.
“Seven o’clock your time okay?”
Devon slid her lower half beneath the covers. “Works for me.”
“It’s a date.”
Her heart kicked hard as silence filled the line.
Blake cleared his throat. “I’ll call you at seven so we can synchronize our remotes.”
“Okay,” she laughed again. “’Night, Blake.”
“Good night, Dev.”
The call ended and Devon lowered the phone to her lap. For several seconds, she stared at its blackened screen. Then she plugged it into the charger and set it on the nightstand, beside the flashlight.
Willow curled against her hip, and Devon reached down and ran her fingers through the cat’s soft fur. A moment later, she turned off the bedside lamp.
Darkness settled around her as she laid down and pulled the covers high.
A pipe creaked somewhere inside the wall. Her eyes immediately opened. Devon stared toward the bedroom door. There were no footsteps. There was no movement. Just her apartment making normal apartment sounds.
She closed her eyes again.
You’re safe.
Devon forced her thoughts to Blake and how easily he’d made her laugh. She tucked the covers beneath her chin, and as she drifted off to sleep, she thought—
I wish he was here.
CHAPTER FIVE
The following night . . .
Blake stood outside Devon’s apartment with two pizza boxes balanced on one hand and his eyes locked on her door. This was either a really good idea or a massive demonstration of questionable judgment.
He was leaning toward questionable judgment.
The flight from D.C. had given him time to reconsider. He hadn’t, which probably should have concerned him.
Adjusting his grip on the pizzas, Blake reached up and knocked. Seconds later, he was still standing there with no response.
His gaze automatically swept the hallway. It was quiet. Clean. A row of closed apartment doors on both sides of the hallway. No footsteps or voices to be heard.
