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“No can do, dude. It’s mandatory. Even the guys with girls are being ordered to step up,” Best said.

“I don’t care. I’m not going to spend the night flirting and catering to a bunch of women.”

Best pulled open the door to leave. “Please let me be there when you tell Eve that.”

The door shut on Best’s laughter, and Blake sat down at his desk, shaking his head. The whole morning had been a trial, and now this ball thing . . .

God, couldn’t he just get a little peace? All he wanted was to go to work, run, read, sleep, and eat. He didn’t want to go to balls or take down robbers. He just wanted to be left alone.

An image of Hannah’s smile rushed through his mind. Until this morning, he hadn’t minded being around her. Hell, he’d actually looked forward to it. Hannah was sweet, and she put him at ease.

But she’d looked at him a little differently today, and it had unnerved him, made him feel things he thought had died with his wife.

Or was it because she looked at you the way Jenny used to? As if you could conquer the world?

Blake had let Jenny down when she’d needed him the most. He should have been the one to go to the store, not her. If only . . .

Blake pushed that thought away. Today, he’d been there for Hannah, but he couldn’t give her what she ultimately wanted. His heart hadn’t been his since he was sixteen, and what was left of it was a hollow shell.

Hannah deserved more.

Chapter Six

THE NEXT MORNING, Blake skipped breakfast at Dale’s. Avoiding Hannah seemed like the best course of action under the circumstances.

But despite knowing it was a bad idea, he drove by the diner after his run, staring into the window to catch a glimpse of her. He’d had a rough night’s sleep, and it just wasn’t the same going into work without seeing Hannah’s smile.

God, he was such a selfish prick. Just because he had issues didn’t mean Hannah should be punished. He should just be honest with her, tell her that he hadn’t meant to give her the wrong impression. That he wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship. He could say that, right?

Sure, because women love the “let’s just be friends” speech.

Besides, it wasn’t just Hannah’s feelings that scared him, but his reaction to her and the guilt eating him up because of it.

He parked in front of Alpha Dog, and as he got out, he heard Best yelling his name from the front door.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring our calls, hero?”

Hero? Blake shut his door. “I left my phone here last night. Why, what’s up?”

“What’s up is that the girl you saved yesterday was on the news, singing your praises. The program’s phone has been ringing off the hook from reporters trying to get interviews with you! Eve is drooling about getting you on camera to help drum up some press about Alpha Dog. You, my friend, are a local celebrity.”

Blake wanted to run back to his car and disappear. He didn’t want to do camera interviews. He just wanted to come to work and do his job.

“No, I’m not doing any interviews. I just did what anyone would have done—”

Best slapped him on the back and broke in. “No go, mi amigo. Not everyone would have gone outside, disarmed a man with a gun, and saved the girl. You are a knight in shining armor, and Eve is going to milk the shit out of it.”

Blake greeted the guys working security and walked away from Best, who yelled after him, “You can’t escape your destiny, man!”

Blake saw Eve standing outside Sparks’s office talking to Martinez and Sparks and cursed silently. What were the chances he could duck into his office without any of them noticing him?

“Blake!”

Eve’s cheerful call made him wince. Too late.

He watched her approach, giving her what he hoped was a formidable scowl. He must have been losing his touch, because she just continued to give him that wide, red-lipped smile.

“I am so glad I caught you. You’ve been getting interview requests all morning on what happened yesterday, so I took the liberty of scheduling Channel Three to come out and interview you. Maybe watch you in action with the kids and the dogs. It will be great exposure for the program and you . . . ”