Page 35 of Blake

“You sound weird.”

“I always sound weird,” she countered.

“This is a different weird.”

She almost laughed.

Almost.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Devon walked back to the dining table and shoved the chair beneath it. The move was harder than necessary, causing the legs to scrape against the apartment’s wooden floor.

“What was that?”

She froze. “Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

“I just moved a chair.”

Blake grew quiet once more. When he spoke again, there was concern in his tone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The question was softer this time. Almost sweet.

Devon stared at the locks on her front door. She could tell him. She could say she’d spent the past ten minutes searching her apartment because a chair had been three inches out of place.

Brilliant idea. Then the man you’re crushing hard on will know exactly how screwed up you still are.

“I’m fine,” she repeated a bit stronger. “Just tired.”

She expected Blake to push, but thankfully he didn’t.

“Okay.”

The ease of his sudden acceptance of her claim was somehow worse. Chalking it up to more of her crazy, Devon walked down the hallway toward her bedroom and changed the subject.

“Did you get my email?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Well, what good are you to me then?” she teased.

“Good talking to you, too, Brighton. I’ll see you later.”

That earned the man an honest-to-goodness chuckle. “Saving the world been keeping you busy?” She crossed her bedroom and climbed onto the edge of her bed.

“It’s exhausting,” Blake joked.