Page 92 of Almost Enough

She smirks, no hesitation. “I know.”

I set my fork down, watching her for a beat. “I’m planning to work on your car tomorrow. You got anywhere to be?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m working from home all day. Zoom calls, emails, a pitch deck to finalize. Real thrilling stuff.”

There’s a second where she hesitates. “I guess… Would you mind taking me home tonight? I can check in with you tomorrow about the car?”

Something tightens in my chest. Not because I mind driving her, but because part of me had already settled on her staying. No, more than that. I wanted her to stay.

“Yeah,” I say. “No problem.”

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I don’t press because I don’t want to make it awkward. Or maybe I’m just afraid of what she’d say.

twenty-seven

. . .

Whitley

Beau drives through the quiet streets to my condo, the city lights flickering past. Cool air slips through the open windows, but it’s doing nothing to ease the heat that always seems to be broiling between us.

I wanted him to ask me to stay because being with him just feels…right. Honestly, I almost wanted to beg. I wanted to bust out the puppy eyes and all. Which might have been a bit silly of me, I guess. Beau just barely started tolerating me a couple weeks ago. I shouldn’t rush anything.

It’s more than the physical pull, though. God knows my brain keeps taking detours into all the other reasons to stay. The ones definitely not appropriate for polite company.

Beyond that, it’s the way I feel safe in his silence, like I don’t have to fill every second with noise. The way his laughter sneaks up on me when I least expect it. I want more time wrapped up in that.

Still, the words get stuck somewhere deep, tangled in nerves and fear. I don’t want to crowd his space or scare him off. So I swallow it all down and stay quiet for once.

Beau pulls up in front of my condo, the truck’s engine settling into a mellow rumble. He glances over at me, those big brown eyes holding mine a beat longer than usual. But then he looks away, biting his bottom lip like he’s swallowing his own hesitation. The silence between us stretches out, and I realize maybe we’re both holding back for different reasons.

I can’t stand it.

Leaning over, I grab his collar, yank him down to me, and slam my mouth to his. His tongue darts out, hot and demanding, meeting mine and deepening the kiss until I’m breathless. His hand slides into my hair, gripping tight enough to make me whimper against his mouth.

When I finally pull away, breathless and beaming, I murmur, “Just so you know where I stand.”

Then I slip out of the truck and head inside, heart pounding and ready to see if he’s crazy enough to catch up.

I don’t even make it to my door before the engine noise dies down and his truck door slams shut. My pulse kicks up, a wild rhythm racing ahead of heavy footsteps that close the distance down the walkway. I fumble with my keys, pretending not to notice him.

“Whitley.” His voice drops low.

I turn slowly, sliding my back against the door with all the false innocence I can muster. “Yes?”

He steps into my space, one hand braced against the doorframe, heat radiating off his body into the cool night air. “You can’t just do that and walk away.”

“I just did,” I say, tilting my chin up, daring him. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

His eyes darken, the challenge burning there as he holds my gaze. I wait, knowing full well he hates…or maybe kind of loves when I push.

“Open the door.”

I twirl the keys in my hand, leaning against the door with an exaggerated pout. “Maybe I don’t want to let you in, after all.” I tap my chin, pretending to consider it. “What’s in it for me?”

His jaw clenches, that muscle jumping in a way that sends heat pooling low in my stomach.

I watch his control slip another notch, and it’s intoxicating. His hand drops from the doorframe and settles on my waist, fingers digging in possessively.