“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I was trying to remember if he’s done anything else,” I lied, because admitting I was thinking of his ass didn’t seem appropriate right now.
“Start taking notes,” Miller said. “Especially of anything that could be interpreted as a threat.”
“I will.”
“And call me if you have any problems with the police or you have any questions,” he said and paused before adding, “or you know, if you just wanna talk or something.”
“Or something” meant hooking up again, right? At least, I hoped that was what he meant. But to make sure he knew I was up for a repeat of last night, I lowered my voice to something likea purr. “Don’t worry, handsome. You’ll be the first one I call for a little somethin’ somethin’.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then he let out a soft laugh that told me that yeah, we were on the same page. I smiled to myself. Okay, phone callswerebetter than texts for some things.
“Are you free on the weekend?” Miller asked. “We could?—”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
“You don’t know what I was going to say,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
“I can take a wild guess, and it ain’t discussing the Hoover Dam.”
He laughed again, and I was about to tease him some more, but the front door banged open and Chase and Wilder came in, talking and laughing. They set the grocery bags they’d been carrying on the kitchen counter and eyeballed me.
I sighed. “The guys are home. I gotta go.”
“Okay. I’ll text you. Don’t forget to lodge that complaint,” he said.
“I won’t. And thanks again.”
I ended the call and when I looked up, Chase was wearing a shit-eating grin that could only mean he’d been talking to Cash. I ignored him and started unloading the groceries, pretending to read the ingredients on the peanut butter jar.
It didn’t stop him. “So, you and the hot lawyer, huh?” he said, his grin widening. “Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”
I thought about playing dumb, but what was the point? Chase was going to give me shit about it anyway, so I might as well get it over with. “Yeah, me and the hot lawyer,” I said, plastering a grin on my face. “Jealous?”
I expected Chase to laugh, but he surprised me by saying, “Kinda? He is super hot.”
“I’m straight and I’d still tap that,” Wilder agreed. “Dude is smoking.”
“Wow. Way to point out that I’m punching above my weight,” I said, ignoring both Wilder’s crazily inaccurate definition of straightness and the way the words stung more than a little. I already knew Miller was out of my league, okay?
But then Chase surprised me. “I dunno. You’re pretty cute,” he said, “and you’ve got that whole country boy charm thing going for you. I can see why he’s into you.”
I threw a packet of rice Chase’s way and said, “Shut up. You’re making it weird.”
He caught the packet and tossed it from hand to hand. “Nah. You’re not my type.”
“Nobody’s your type,” Wilder said.
He wasn’t wrong. Chase hadn’t dated anyone the entire time he’d lived here.
Wilder dug around in the grocery bags and loaded up the fridge with string cheese and yogurt for when Grace came to visit. When he turned around, his brow was creased like it got when he’d thought too hard about something. “Isn’t it like, illegal to fuck your lawyer?”
“Oooh, good point,” Chase said. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my lawyer. He’s Grandma’s. So it’s fine. And anyway, we’re just fooling around. It ain’t serious.”
And it wasn’t. We were just hooking up, and even if I’d wanted it to go further—and I wasn’t saying I did—there was no way Miller would be interested in someone like me, except as a casual hookup.
