Page 29 of Please Don’t Go (The Midnight Strike #1)

DANIEL

I know I’m screwing myself over by drinking coffee past eleven p.m., but it gave me an excuse to spend more time with Josie.

I didn’t want to say good night and maybe I’m hoping she didn’t want to either. Because after I washed the dishes, I saw her fancy coffee maker, and made a comment about it. I said, “I bet the coffee tastes as fancy as it looks.”

It was a lame comment, but the faintest smile curled on her lips, and she offered me a cup. I couldn’t say no even though coffee’s the last thing I need because I need to be up at five thirty a.m. for morning lift.

In hindsight, it really doesn’t matter because morning lift could’ve been at two in the morning and I still wouldn’t have said no. Though she could ask me to do just about anything. I’m not sure I’d ever have the ability to say no to her.

“You know, you really could’ve just put the dishes in the dishwasher.” She hands me a steaming mug then settles down on the couch next to me with her own.

We would’ve stayed outside longer but it got a little chilly, and while I don’t mind it, Josie is wearing a tank top and these tiny shorts.

I hadn’t noticed them at first, but then I did.

I wasn’t trying to stare, but when we came inside, she accidentally dropped something and bent over.

It happened so fast, I didn’t get the chance to turn around or shift my gaze away.

I got a view of her ass cheeks. They were just there, hanging out, and I was there, staring like I’d never seen a girl’s ass before.

“Growing up, we always washed all of our dishes by hand.” Not only did we not have a dishwasher, but even if we did, Mom would’ve refused to use it. She said it’d make us lazier.

“Just letting you know, dishwashers save more water.” She raises her mug, blowing into it to cool it down.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know how to use a dishwasher,” I admit and point an accusatory finger at her when I spot the slight twitch of her lips. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.” She raises a hand in surrender but still I hear the humor shining in her tone. “You know there’s YouTube and the internet and?—”

“I know. I guess I could’ve looked it up.” I stifle my chuckle. “But I’ve just always washed them by hand, and the dishwasher at the baseball house is broken. We actually use it to store extra dishes and whatnot. When you go over…maybe don’t look in there.”

She takes a small sip, but I think that’s to hide her smile. Fireworks . “So what you’re saying is that I need to teach you how to use one?”

“You don’t have to do that. I really don’t mind washing them by hand.” I blow into my cup before I take a small, careful sip. Yeah, just as good as I envisioned it.

“I’m going to show you.” Her voice is firm and nonnegotiable.

“Okay,” I concede, not that it would’ve taken much to get me to agree. “Show me, but washing dishes is the least I can do. You won’t let me pay rent, clean, or do anything but be here.”

We talked about it after we got done talking about our pretend future. Though that got me thinking. Before, during, and after Amanda, it never crossed my mind. I have too much on my plate right now to have considered or wanted it.

But now I wonder about it and about hers too.

“Because the house has already been paid for and I clean, so you don’t have to worry about it,” she absently replies, eyes lost and detached.

“Hey.” I reach for her hand but again, I curl my fingers into a fist and I don’t touch her.

I do keep my hand next to hers though. “We can compromise. I’ll start buying groceries and cooking.

” Her lips part, and I don’t doubt she’ll argue against me doing that.

“Take it or take it. I’m not going to argue with you, Josefine. ”

“You mean take it or leave it?”

My heart stutters at the graze of her hand against mine. “Usually but this isn’t negotiable. I’m going to be here and I really want to be useful to you.”

She turns her body to face me, raising her leg on the couch, but that causes my hand to brush against her shin.

I jerk my hand back, resisting the sudden urge to really touch her.

But that doesn’t stop me from dropping my eyes to her parted legs.

Or notice the way the seam of her shorts is wedged between her pussy.

Fuck me, maybe staying isn’t a good idea.

I look away and notice something flash across her face, but it’s gone before I can take it in.

“Daniel, I didn’t give you a key to my house because I wanted you to work or be useful .

” She breathes a heavy sigh. “If I wanted a maid or chef, I would hire one.” She shifts in her seat, like she’s not sure if she wants to voice what she’s thinking out loud or if she’s comfortable enough.

“I have enough money and—I’m going to leave it at that, but I want you to know that I see you too. ”

I’m uncertain what she means at first, but it dawns on me a second later. My chest constricts, and a knot the size of an entire continent lodges in the middle of my throat, making it hard to breathe.

I want to speak but I can’t find the right words. I scope through my brain and try to find the appropriate thing to say.

Her throat bobs and she sits up straighter.

“I may be the last person you want to talk to or even confide in. I’m not good at giving advice or being the most affectionate.

I may be overstepping and you can tell me to never bring this up and I won’t, but I just want you to know that I see you.

I see you, Daniel,” she reaffirms, like she needs me to understand that she knows what I’m feeling, that she can see it and isn’t going to pretend it’s not there.

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to make yourself cheerful or useful in order to be around me.

I just want you to be you. And if you need someone to talk to, vent to, someone who will just listen, I’m here.

” Her brown eyes level with mine as she says that. “But if you don’t, that’s okay, too.”

All the air I was struggling to breathe in, whooshes in so rapidly. I’m inhaling so much, my lungs burn and my chest hurts. I want to make it stop, I want to stop breathing, to stop thinking, but I can’t.

I blink to not give myself away but as I do, images that haunt me play in my head. So many of them and all at once.

You have to help him! Help him!

“Garcia?” Her gentle voice stops the memory from playing on repeat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I take a small sip of my coffee, letting the hot liquid burn my throat. I smile at her and hate myself because I should be helping her and not the other way around.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” I force my lips to lift higher, feeling angry that she looks genuinely concerned. “I promise.”

I’m the guy who has his shit together. I don’t worry people or make them sad. I’m the guy who people go to whenever something’s wrong.

I should be that for Josefine, not the other way around.

The air whooshes in again, fast and heavy. My lungs burn and my head spins. I drink more coffee, not bothering to drink it slowly or carefully so I don’t burn myself. At first, I wince as it goes down my throat, but then the pain subdues until I feel nothing.

Her lips pinch in a flat line. “Okay. I just wanted to let you know that I see you and I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Jos. I’m here for you, too.” Again, I’m tempted to grab her hand, to hold her, to touch her, but I stop myself.

She stiffly nods, not really looking at me. Now I really hate myself. We were good, and now I ruined it.

“I—”

My phone vibrating in my pocket halts me from saying anything else. I don’t know who could be calling me since it’s late, and while the guys don’t know where I am, they think I’m with a girl. It’s not a lie; they just don’t know the girl is Josie.

When I pull it out, I don’t mean to, but I groan.

The guys told me to block Amanda’s number, but I didn’t want to be a dick. Which is really funny considering what she did. Now I’m not only regretting not blocking it but also not setting boundaries.

“Booty call?” Josie questions.

“No,” I show her my screen. “Just an ex-girlfriend who won’t get the hint.”

Something sparks in her eyes and her lips twist in a small grimace. But then her entire expression morphs into something wicked. She sets her mug on the coffee table and stands in front of me.

I crane my head back, staring up at her, and clench my jaw. She’s so close and smells so good. All I want to do is touch her.

“You helped me with Bryson. I want to help you. Do you trust me?” She holds her hand out, palm up, and I realize she’s asking for my phone.

It stops vibrating and without giving it a thought, I unlock it and hand it to her.

“Can I sit on you?”

My heart careens and my body thrums with need. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

She takes the mug from my hand, sets it next to hers, then makes herself comfortable on my lap. I think I hold my breath. I’m not sure because her ass is nestled right above my dick, so it’s hard to focus on anything else.

“What do you want me to do?” My voice is gruff. Fuck.

“Nothing. Just stay still and breathe. You’ll pass out if you don’t.” The tease in her voice doesn’t help me. She’s nonchalant and I’m struggling.

“I’m breathing just fine.” My voice, fuck, why does it sound like that? It sounds breathless, husky.

“Mm-hmm.” She lays my phone on her lap and pulls the thin straps of her tank top down and under her arms. Everything still remains as it is but her shoulders are bare and I’m still here struggling to breathe like a fish out of water. “Kiss my shoulder.”

“What?” I croak but then clear my throat. Jesus Christ. “What?”

“Put your lips on my shoulder. I’m going to take a picture and send it to her.”

I’m so dizzy, drowning in the scent of her lavender perfume, I can’t think.

I do as she instructs, placing my lips on her shoulder.

God, she’s soft. I don’t move them as she shifts the camera so that it faces us.

The screen only captures half of my face, from my nose down to my lips on her shoulder.

“Keep doing that, I really like that,” she says, her voice a soft rasp but when a breathy moan escapes her lips, my cock throbs.

My hands flex at my sides, urging me to touch her but I don’t.

“I got it,” she says.

I pull back and don’t say a word, not trusting my voice won’t betray me.

“I left the picture on Live,” she explains, pointing at the top right corner where it says LIVE. “I know she’ll hold the picture down and look. That’s why I said that. Sorry, I should’ve warned you, but it just came to mind.”

Yeah, she should be apologizing because now I want to hear her say it over and over again.

I’m so out of it, I’m hardly able to listen or focus because she’s still sitting on me. I’m in a stupor, stuck in a daze as she goes to my messages and finds her name. I’m glad I changed her name right after I found out she cheated on me. She clicks on it, sending her the picture and a message.

Me: He’s busy.

And then proceeds to put it on Do Not Disturb .

“I hope this is okay?” she asks, still staring at the screen, watching those three dots appear and disappear.

But me, I’m a piece of shit because my gaze trails from her shoulders down to her ass. I’m stuck on her sitting on me like this, and I picture things I shouldn’t, like her bouncing on my cock and screaming my name.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Thanks, Josie, but I should go to bed. I gotta be up really early.” My voice is hoarse and every part of me is sweating.

“Oh, yeah.” She quickly gets up and hands me back my phone. “I got your cup.” She eyes my empty mug, and I’d clean up after myself, but this is the one time I won’t.

“Thanks.” I’m up and turning around, making sure she can’t see how hard I am. With my back to her, I say, “Good night, Josie,” and rush up the stairs.