Page 38 of Theirs to Hunt

I’m free tomorrow,” he says, voice low. “Let me take you out properly. We can talk…”

His eyes hold mine. The pause stretches.

“…about a lot of things.”

I lean against the gate, lips twitching. “Like with real silverware and not gym sweat between us?”

“Exactly.”

“Deal.”

He steps closer as I tilt my head toward him. A dark thrill curls in my belly.

I can feel the pulsing anger coming from the vehicle still creeping behind us.

He leans down, lips just about to brush mine…

A car alarm blasts through the moment, shattering it.

He steps back, eyes still locked on mine. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, little fawn.”

He turns and walks away.

I hesitate, then call after him. “Brooks?”

He turns.

I flash him a Cheshire grin. “Checkmate.”

He shakes his head. “This move was just check, Bambi.”

I watch him disappear into the night.

Only move once he’s gone.

And even then, only to touch my fingers to my lips.

Chapter thirty-two

Reagan, Friday 07:00 a.m.

The next morning, I’m glowing.

Lipstick.

A deeper front dip in my blouse than I usually wear to work.

A skirt with a flare at the knee instead of my customary slacks.

Bobbie clocks it the second I swing by the ER with a coffee and a grin.

“Did you get laid or hired by Vogue?”

“Neither. Yet.” I shoot her a look.

“The day’s still young.”

“But who was the mountain of beautiful man who wandered off as I came up? He looked very dark, dangerous, and served with a side of mysterious.”