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I catch the soft shudders of her tears. Feel the dampness of them at the collar of my shirt.

And I don’t fucking care. I stroke Reese’s soft hair, tucking that strand behind her ear as she presses her cheek against my chest. “That guy wasn’t him, okay?” I know his name, but I won’t say it. “He’s ancient history. And I can say with absolute certainty that whatever he told you was wrong, Reese. Dead wrong.”

She looks up at me, her eyes wide, and I see the hope in them. Just a quick flash, but it’s there. “You weren’t there, Eli.”

“No. But I’m here. And I know if it made you feel any fraction of the way you’re feeling now that he had his head up his ass, okay?”

She’s so close now I can feel the warm puff of her breath against my chin as she laughs. She’s still melted against me, every part of us touching.

And God help me, my body responds. It’s wildly inappropriate to be getting a fucking hard-on at this moment—any moment, with Reese—but my idiot dick doesn’t know that, and it swells as I breathe in this woman in front of me. I separate that part of us, so she doesn’t feel. I draw my hand down her spine, hoping she doesn’t notice. I feel like a lascivious asshole for my body reacting this way.

But I don’t focus on that. I focus on the beautiful, delicate, tough-as-nails woman who’s still here after some prick tried to destroy her. Who rose above her own feelings and agreed to help me.

I remember the words she said right here in this office, when I demanded she tell me what I could do for her in return.

Make my dreams come true.

She presses her forehead against my chest, breathing deeply as if to center herself. I pray it takes forever.

I think of the text on my phone, the one Ben sent me after dinner, with the contact info of the guy out in LA who used to produce his band’s shows. Ben offered to do a tour of the Waterfront Block with me later today, to give me advice about what I want to do in there.

God, I hope she likes it.

Then Reese looks up again, and all of that flies out of my head. I take in her lips, so close I could take them just by tipping my head down.

My cock jumps.

Her still-wet eyelashes flutter against the freckles on her cheek. “Eli,” she breathes.

“Reese,” I respond. My voice is hoarse, my eyes searching hers. My dick thickens. I wonder if she feels it. If I should move. Or do I want her to know I’m getting a hard-on just standing here with her in my arms?

Then the door bangs open.

We jump apart like we were committing a crime.

“Reese, sorry I’m late, I—” The kid who’s burst into the room can’t be more than twenty, wearing a stained white apron. “Oh shit,” he says, as he takes in me and the scowl now draped on my face.

Reese takes a full step back, leaning against the back of her desk as if trying to look casual. But I can see the pulse at her neck fluttering.

I did that. For a moment the heady knowledge of that is so rich I forget about the boy. My dick twitches like an idiot.

“Todd! Remember what happened the last time you didn’t knock?”

The kid’s face goes red, and that’s when I hear a snort behind him. Over his shoulder several of the staff at the prep tables appear to be badly hiding their laughter. Things calm down between my legs.

“He came in while I was changing my shirt,” Reese explains.

“I didn’t see anything!”

“That’s because you freaked out and knocked yourself out on the doorframe as you tried to run.”

That rollercoaster of a story has me biting my cheek to try not to laugh.

Todd clears his throat. “Nobody…they told me you were in here and they didn’t say your uh…your…”

I should say boss, just to scare him, though Reese reports to my sister. Instead, I open my mouth and say, “Boyfriend.”

Reese’s eyes dart to mine. I look back at her, daring her to argue.