VERONICA CHANDLER WAS shining again when she took her place in front of the microphone. The wide smile made her eyes sparkle. Her earrings glittered as she waved to the crowd. “Good Lord, there are a lot of you tonight!”
The place erupted in cheers. Gabe didn’t cheer, but he did clap for Veronica before picking up a beer to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Maybe it was because he was already buzzed or maybe it was because he hadn’t seen her cool, bitchy side right beforehand, but she looked hot tonight. Her legs were bare all the way from ankle to midthigh, and his eyes followed the path up and down several times. Those legs made her look like his kind of girl.
He cleared his throat at the strange thought, but when he tried to look away, his gaze swung right back to those bare legs. They weren’t thin and impossibly long like the legs of some of the fashion models his sister hung out with. Veronica’s legs were tight. Hard. As if she used them to go places and do things. Her calf muscles were cut and the fronts of her thighs tightened when she shifted.
“How have I not seen her before?” Benton asked.
Gabe forced his eyes off her legs and looked at Benton. “She was living in New York for a while.”
“You know her?”
“I met her last week. She’s friends with Lauren at the library.”
“Maybe I should be spending more time at the library.”
“Because bartenders don’t get enough female attention? Please.”
Benton grinned and raised his beer. “Cheers to that.”
Veronica spoke again, drawing their attention. “This first question is R rated. Do you guys think you’re ready for that, or should we ease in with something tamer?”
When the crowd reacted, Veronica covered her mouth and shook her head, her cheeks going pink. “I actually didn’t mean it to sound that way, but I’d say you’re definitely ready.”
“Hell, yeah!” a girl shouted from the left.
“All right,” Veronica said. “This one’s short and not so sweet. ‘My boyfriend won’t go down on me—’”
The place erupted in groans and boos and Gabe found himself laughing until his eyes watered.
Benton booed right along with the crowd. “What a punk ass,” he muttered. Gabe clinked his glass in agreement.
Veronica’s laugh echoed over it all. “Okay. Just listen. ‘My boyfriend won’t go down on me. He says he’s never liked it with anyone, but I can’t help but take it personally. What should I do?’ Signed, I Need Love. Well, I hope your boyfriend is here to listen to this! But, letter writer, it doesn’t really matter if he’s here or not. Because what you need to hear is how many of these guys think he’s a fool. Right, guys?” The place exploded with noise.
Once the cheers died down, she started again. “There are lots of men who genuinely don’t like going down, and there are also lots of women who don’t like performing oral sex. These are not bad people—”
“Are you sure?” someone shouted.
“—and I don’t think anyone should be talked into anything they don’t want to do. I have no idea what your boyfriend’s problem is, and it doesn’t truly matter. If you have to talk him into it, I doubt he’d be very good at it and I doubt you’d have a great time.”
Somebody muttered an “Amen.”
“So, letter writer,” she continued, “the truth is that your boyfriend doesn’t really matter here. You matter. And what you need to ask yourself is ‘Do I want to go my whole life without oral sex?’ Because that’s what we’re talking about if this relationship continues. Since oral sex is the way the vast majority of women orgasm, I’m going to guess the answer to that question is no.”
Gabe noticed her cheeks going pink again.
“So if you don’t want to go your whole life without it, what’s the point of going a year without it? Or five years? Maybe he’s a really great guy, but he can be a great guy with someone he’s sexually compatible with. Believe it or not, there are women out there who don’t want that. They think it’s gross or it makes them uncomfortable. I once even met a woman whose nerves were so sensitive that she found it too intense and didn’t like it. Let him date that woman. Or better yet, he can hook up with one of those girls who hates blow jobs and they can live resentfully together for the rest of their lives.”
Veronica smiled. “But you, letter writer, you can look around at this very large gathering of men who love to go down—” she swept a hand over the crowd, and several guys jumped to their feet with triumphant fists in the air “—and you can decide to choose another path. A path that involves cunnilingus, and lots of it. My hunch is that’s the path for you.”
Gabe thought of the Robert Frost poem about two roads diverging in a wood and shook his head in wonder. Probably not what Frost had had in mind, but who really knew?
Her next question was from a woman who’d received hateful messages online telling her she was fat and slutty and who’d then tracked down the IP address to her sister’s computer.
Gabe half listened to Veronica’s answer, but he was more interested in the way her voice changed from wry humor to serious concern. Was she only acting or did she really feel that deeply for these people? He couldn’t tell, but the whole room went quiet as she talked about betrayal and pain.
“I can’t begin to guess at her reasons. I’m sure she tells herself she has them, but she is consciously hurting you. She’s trying to damage you on the deepest level. Now, people do that all the time. There are people online who spend every day swooping down on strangers just to hurt them and they find that entertaining. But this is your sister. You can’t just ignore that. You’re going to have to talk to her, because you’re both adults and part of being an adult is doing difficult things.
“Tell her you need it to stop. And if you’re open to the answer, ask her why. Find out what’s really going on, because I guarantee that it has nothing to do with your body and what you do with it. It’s all about her. Maybe she’s having issues with your parents. Maybe they’re using your success to shame her. Or maybe she’s just depressed and angry and lashing out. Ask her why. And if you don’t like her answer, you have every right to cut her out of your life, but be honest with your family about why you’ve done it, or she will make you into the bad guy.”
The applause was more subdued this time, but Veronica smiled. “Don’t worry. The next question is about boobs.”
When she started giving advice about living with a small chest, Gabe felt less guilty about checking her breasts out. She gestured to them as she was talking, after all. People were laughing so hard it was difficult to hear everything she said about bra shopping and dress styles, but he had a perfect view of her breasts the whole time. The neckline of her dress swooped only low enough to hint at cleavage, but she made clear that she didn’t have much to show, anyway.
“Personally, I wouldn’t bother much with water bras or miracle padding. What if you attract a guy who’s really, really into C-cups and then your magic show ends with whipping off your bra and making them disappear? You can yell out ‘Ta-da!’ but I promise you won’t get any applause.”
Benton was laughing so hard that Gabe suspected it was a magic show the bartender had seen several times.
Half an hour and four more questions later, the show was over. Once the room started to clear out a little, Gabe took the opportunity to grab a free space at the bar and order another beer.
“We’re heading over to the saloon,” Benton said when Gabe returned to the table. “You coming?”
“I just bought a beer.”
“Finish it and come on.”
“I’d better not. I’ve got work tomorrow, and my shift doesn’t start at 5:00 p.m., unlike yours.”
“All right, man.” Benton slapped his shoulder. “See you this weekend.”
Gabe relaxed into his chair. If Sunday turned out to be anything like today, he might die of happiness. It was all so...simple.
But when he glanced up, it wasn’t simple anymore.
Veronica stood in the opening of the back hall, leaning forward just slightly to look around the room. He realized then that she was part of the reason he’d decided to stay, even if he hadn’t admitted it. Shit.
After a few seconds of peering toward the bar, she retreated and leaned against the wall, then closed her eyes and drained her drink.
Gabe watched her, confused by yet another sudden personality shift. She clearly didn’t want to come out, which was odd considering she’d just spent so much time in front of these people.
She pushed off the wall again and her gaze roamed the room. Her eyes skipped over him, then returned and widened. He smiled and gave her a wave. She waved back but didn’t move. Telling himself he was an idiot even as he did it, Gabe pointed at the empty chair next to him. She hadn’t been looking for him, and he shouldn’t want to spend time with her, anyway.
But Veronica smiled and seemed to wilt a little, the stiffness going out of her shoulders, and he was glad he’d offered. Relief seemed to glow from her face as she stepped out of the hallway and made a beeline for him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she set down her now-empty glass and took a seat.
“Some friends wanted to see your show.”
“But not you?” she asked.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been following your live show since the beginning. You want another drink?”
“Oh, God, yes. Please.”
He started to raise a hand to catch the server’s eye, then realized the woman was already headed over with a drink. She winked at Veronica. “The manager says thanks for another great show. There’s more where this came from.”
“Keep them coming!” Veronica cried. When she reached for the drink, Gabe noticed her hand was trembling again.
“Do you get nervous?” he asked.
Her big blue eyes peered at him from over the rim of the martini glass as she took a long drink. “Nervous?” she finally rasped when she came up for air. “More like fucking terrified.”
“I’m surprised.” That might explain a lot of her odd behavior. “You seem totally confident up there.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded as she took another drink.
“It’s all an act. I’m scared to death.” She took one more drink, then set the glass down. Her hand was still shaking.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Anyone would be nervous talking to a roomful of strangers about cunnilingus.”
She squeaked and covered her face with her hands. Her cheeks went red behind her fingers, but when her shoulders began to shake, he knew she was laughing.
“Sorry,” he said. “It was kind of the elephant in the room. That and your small breasts.”
“Oh, my God!” she shrieked, her head bowing with laughter.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
“Gabe!” she scolded, and he grinned at the way she made him feel as if he was getting away with something. He couldn’t deny that it was a turn-on having an excuse to talk to this girl he hardly knew about sex.
He smiled at the top of her head until she finally peeked up, her eyes still crinkled with amusement.
“Feel better?” he asked.
She sat up straight and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I actually feel better.”
“Makes sense. Oral sex is a great icebreaker. But I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve probably given that advice a hundred times.”
“You’re awful,” she said, still grinning.
“I know. I’m sorry. But your hands were shaking.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I didn’t realize.”
The waitress interrupted with a new cocktail, and Gabe watched Veronica take a deep breath. She touched the new glass but didn’t lunge for it the way she had with the first one. She really had been scared. No wonder she’d been so hesitant to join the crowd.
“You have no idea how good these drinks are. So good.” She took another sip. “And you distracted me from the terror. Thank you.”
He noticed how her dress had ridden up to expose more of her smooth thighs and made himself look away, if only so he wouldn’t get caught. “I honestly had no idea you were nervous. It was a great show. You’re a natural.”
“Really? I can’t tell how it’s going when I’m up there. It feels like my brain shuts down and my mouth is working on its own.”
“No, your brain is definitely working. Everything you say is really damn smart.”
She blushed again, and Gabe liked that. A lot. That she blushed over sex talk and then blushed when he called her smart. She was...intriguing. And nothing like the first impression he’d had of her.
“You look like you got some sun today,” she said.
“It was my day off. I finally got a chance to do some climbing.”
She sat back in her chair. “Rock climbing? That’s crazy.”
“It’s not crazy,” he said, the same answer he’d given to a hundred other people. It was the most typical reaction. “It’s fun. You should try it.”
“Oh, sure. I’ve got the perfect body type.” She flexed her right arm and pointed at it. “Check out these guns.”
“You don’t need much upper-body strength for the beginning climbs. It’s all in the legs.”
“Are you saying you’re not impressed with my guns?” she asked, flexing again.
“I’m saying your legs look strong.”
“Oh.” Cheeks going pink again, she looked down at her legs. Her hands settled on her thighs as if to cover them, but then her fingers spread.
Gabe watched, wondering what her skin felt like. Warm, probably. Soft. Nice.
“Thank you,” she said. “If that’s a compliment.”
“It’s definitely a compliment.”
“Are you flirting with me?” she asked, then immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry. I always ask weird questions like that. It’s a problem.”
“How is it a problem?”
“Well, it’s a little awkward, isn’t it? That’s my flirting technique. Complete awkwardness. Look, it’s happening right now. Are you entranced?”
“I kind of am,” he said, smiling at her until she smiled back. “If awkwardness is your flirting technique, then you’re clearly into me right now.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Clearly. But isn’t everyone into you?”
He was the one who drew back this time. “What?”
She watched him as she sipped from her drink, her eyes still sparkling with laughter. Her gaze dipped down his body when she set her glass on the table. “Come on. Look at you. You’re so damn hot.”
“I am?” he asked, feeling his own cheeks get warm.
“Yes, with your little beard and your shoulders and all this.” She waved her hand up and down, while Gabe touched his beard in confusion. “Never mind,” Veronica said. “I’m drunk. Ignore me.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t—” But before he could finish his sentence, she downed the rest of the drink.
“No, I hardly ever get drunk. I want to get drunk. I want to have fun for once.”
“You look like you’ve had plenty of fun in your life.”
“Ha! You’re wrong about that.”
“Come on. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself after all the excitement of the big city. But you can have fun here, too.”
“Oh, sure,” she huffed out on a laugh.
He bristled a little, used to hearing this kind of shit from his oldest friends. “It’s not New York, but it’s a good place. Aren’t you having fun right now?”
She nodded and leaned closer. Gabe tried very hard not to glance down her dress to the slight rise of her breasts, if only because her gaze was locked on his face. “Gabe MacKenzie,” she said in a loud whisper, “you’re beautiful.”
He’d been flattered by her attention, but with those words he realized she was just very, very drunk. Her bright smile was gorgeous, but her eyes had gotten a little hazy. “Okay,” he said, “you’re cut off. And I think I’d better walk you home.”
She rolled her eyes. “I lived in Brooklyn. I can handle myself in Wyoming. And walking won’t be a problem. I’ve got the legs of a Russian weight lifter.” She slapped her bare thighs.
“That is not what I said.”
“What did you say?” she teased.
“I said they were strong. Muscled. You look like you run or bike or—”
Her groan cut him off as she dropped her head to her hands. “I was going for cute tonight. Just cute. Why can’t I even pull that off?”
“Are you kidding? You’re just fishing for compliments now. You’re really cute. The definition of cute. But your legs...your legs are sexy.”
She raised her head, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Making fun? You really aren’t very good at this flirting thing, are you?”
“No. But a guy in New York once called me corn-fed, then acted like it was a compliment.”
“I’m not a guy in New York.”
“You used to be!” she said, poking him in the chest as though she’d caught him in a lie.
“Okay, but I never felt at home there. I’m a country boy at heart. New York is just...where I was born.” Not quite true, but that was what it felt like. A place his family lived. A place he loved from afar and visited occasionally.
Gabe caught sight of the waitress approaching with another drink for Veronica and he shook his head. The woman shrugged and headed back toward the bar.
“I’m sorry,” Veronica said. “You called my legs sexy and I made it weird.” She snagged his beer before he could grab it. “This is why I don’t date. Look at me.”
She got one swig before Gabe took it back and finished it off. “Come on, Dear Veronica, let’s go.”
Even though she collapsed onto the table with laughter, she eventually nodded. “Okay. Let’s go to my place.”
“I didn’t mean...”
“Yeah, believe me, I know.” Veronica pushed to her feet. “See? Steady as a tree.”
In fact, she was swaying a little. If she was a tree, she was more a willow than an oak. “How many of these did you have?” he asked.
“One before the show. One during. Then...two more?”
“In the space of an hour?” Gabe reevaluated his options. “How far away do you live?”
“Only three blocks away. I’m centrally located.” That set off a bout of giggling that had Gabe smiling as he wrapped her arm around his.
“Are you okay in those heels?”
“Sure. I had to learn to walk in them in New York. You know how it is. Spike heels everywhere. I bet you loved that, didn’t you? Men love that.”
He looked down at her as he opened the door of the bar. She was smiling as she stepped into the night.
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” he finally said.
“Just be honest. I write an advice column. I know what guys like. You can’t scare me.”
“Okay, then. Women’s legs look amazing in heels. Your legs look amazing in heels. But nothing beats the sight of a woman in hiking boots on the trail ahead. I could watch that for hours.”
“And have?”
“Only with permission, of course.”
She bumped him with her shoulder as they walked. “Does that mean you’re an ass man, Gabe MacKenzie?”
“I—” he ran through all the possible responses in his head and decided discretion was the better part of ass valor “—am not going to answer that.”
“You can tell me. Feel free to spill all your kinks. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve heard.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t.” He looked around. “Are we even walking in the right direction? Where do you live?”
“Oh, shit,” she muttered, then spun him around. “It’s this way. I’m sorry. I haven’t been this tipsy in a really long time.”
He thought she was way past tipsy, but damned if it wasn’t adorable on her. “So how does one become a professional advice columnist?”
“Overbearing father,” she muttered, then shook her head. “I was a copy editor, but I also helped out with an advice column at the Village Voice. Screening letters, proofing the column, that sort of thing. When I told my dad I was moving back to Jackson, I suppose he wanted to help. He’s friends with the owner of the Jackson paper, and Dad inflated my experience a little. So here I am. A fraud who gives advice.”
“Well, you’re great at it, so how could you be a fraud?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Does someone else write the column for you?”
She laughed, bumping into him again, her thigh rubbing against his and reminding him of how naked her legs were. “No,” she said. “I write it all by myself. That I can do, at least.”
“Which was your favorite column to write?”
“Hmm.” They stepped from the sidewalk to the boardwalk and Veronica seemed to get distracted by the sound of her heels on the wooden boards for a moment. Then she shook her head and looked up again. “Last year a mother wrote in to slut-shame the woman her adult son was dating. She said that this harlot was luring her son with free sex.”
“Oh, God,” Gabe groaned. “Poor guy.”
“I know. We can only guess at how much he was suffering. Anyway, I answered that letter, telling her that if she was disappointed in the behavior, then maybe she hadn’t raised her son very well. I also said there was nothing wrong with sex and to leave the girl alone. Pretty standard stuff. Except that I became friends with the harlot later.”
“Ha! Seriously?”
“It’s a small town. These things happen. I probably know the guy who fell in love with his sex doll, too, but please don’t tell me if it’s you.”
“I’d rather not talk about it, anyway,” Gabe said. “It’s over.”
“Oh, no! Did it fizzle out?”
He shrugged. “We tried to patch it up a couple of times.”
She tugged him to a stop, then leaned against a street lamp, wheezing with laughter.
He grinned as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “You okay?”
She shook her head, still struggling for air past her hysterical laughter.
“Was it that funny, or is it just the alcohol?”
“Both!” she gasped. Then groaned, “God, I must be a mess.”
He looked over her tearstained face and the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. “Nah. You look great.”
“Really?” She swiped at her pink nose.
“Really. Now, where are we going?”
“Right here,” she said, gesturing toward a three-story condo complex.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the lamppost to walk her toward the entry. “I only live one block over.”
“I’m not surprised. There are a lot of rentals around here.” She dug her keys from her bag and led the way to one of the ground-floor doors.
“I won’t come in,” he said for clarity’s sake. Even if he might have wanted to, she was way too drunk for him to feel right about it.
She stabbed her keys toward the doorknob several times. “Don’t worry. I didn’t think you wanted to.”
“Okay, because I— What? Why would you think that?”
She waved her free hand and the keys jagged two inches to the right. “I’m not that girl. I get it.”
“What girl?”
“You know.” She finally got the key into the hole, and when the lock turned, she gave a little cheer. She pushed the door open and then lurched in before spinning back to him. “I’m not going to try to jump your gorgeous bones, Gabe. You’re safe with me. I’m sexual kryptonite.”
“What?” he asked again, even more confused.
She reached down to pull one of her high-heeled boots off, but the other ankle wobbled dangerously.
He jumped forward to grab her elbow so she could pull off the boot without falling. She smiled up at him and took off the other boot. He was surprised by how much shorter she was without them. He could now see straight down her dress. The view was lovely and so was her lacy black bra. He stepped back quickly.
She stared up at him. “It’s true,” she whispered.
“What’s true?” he asked.
She watched him for a long moment, then leaned a little closer. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said, not sure what he was hoping to hear her say. Whatever he’d expected, her next words were not it.
“All that advice I give? All of the wise insights on love and sex that I helpfully hand out to strangers?” Her voice was getting softer.
Gabe put his hands on her shoulders. He wanted to lean down and kiss her. Her mouth looked so plump and her eyes so happy. But he couldn’t. Not tonight. “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, using his hands to hold her steady instead of pulling her close.
“That’s the biggest lie of all, Gabe. I’ve never even done it.”
“Done what?” he asked, distracted by the pretty way her neck arched so she could watch him.
She moved even closer, going up on tiptoe to bring her mouth toward his neck. “Fucking,” she whispered.
For a moment, his brain stuttered over the provocative word, guessing that she was trying to turn him on. Not that he’d act on it tonight, but it was a nice problem to have. Then the rest of the conversation caught up and overrode his libido.
He stood straight. His hands gripped her shoulders with more strength. “You what?”
Instead of reacting with the seriousness he thought the moment deserved, Veronica burst into laughter. “You should see your face!” she chortled, pointing at his face in case he’d forgotten where he’d left it. “Oh, my God, you’re so cute!”
“You were kidding,” he sighed, feeling a relief he didn’t understand.
“Oh, I wasn’t kidding. But it’s still funny.”
He blinked several times. “You’re a virgin?”
“Pretty much,” she said, her face suddenly getting serious.
“What does that mean? Can you even be pretty much a virgin?”
“I mean, I’ve done things. On occasion. But I’ve never really done things. Do you get it now? Look at me! I’m a fraud, Gabe. An undesirable, freakish fraud!”
He stared down at one of the most adorable women he’d ever met and wondered if someone had slipped a psychotropic drug into his last beer. “You’re...” He couldn’t think what to say. Oh, my God, you’re a virgin! Or... I don’t know what you’re talking about—you’re totally fuckable! His mind spun. He stayed silent.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have told you. You just have such a nice face. And everything else.”
“Thank you,” he said carefully.
“Maybe you’d like to help with my problem?” He wasn’t sure what she meant until she waggled her eyebrows.
“You mean...with the...?” He pointedly dropped his gaze to a lower point on her body, then realized it was an extremely creepy gesture and snapped his eyes back to her face.
She nodded solemnly. “Yes. With that.” She pointed at the spot he’d just eyed. When he didn’t respond, her nodding slowed, then stopped entirely before she changed it to a negative shake. “No. Right? It’s a no?”
“I don’t... Veronica, I don’t know what to say. You’re really drunk. We shouldn’t even be talking about this.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to let people see the real me.”
He swallowed hard, wishing he had another beer to wet his dry mouth. Or maybe something with caffeine instead of alcohol so he could navigate this minefield more deftly.
“You’re so cute,” she said mournfully, reaching up to slowly pat his cheek. Her fingers lingered, stroking down his beard. “Huh. It’s soft.”
“Thank you?” he ventured.
She looked so startlingly pretty when she grinned at him that Gabe finally snapped out of his shock and stood straight. “Okay. That’s it. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Yay!” she cheered, pumping her fists in triumph.
“Just you,” he clarified. “Not me. You need to sleep this off. This might be a little more of the real you than you meant to reveal.”
“The real me!” Veronica squealed, giggling as he retrieved the keys she’d left in the lock. “Look at her! She’s horrifying!” He set the keys on the table closest to her and closed the door.
“She’s not horrifying. She’s just being a little more candid than she’d like if she were sober.” Gabe gestured toward the open door of her bedroom.
Her hip hit the table when she turned, but she bounced off it and moved toward her bedroom. Gabe let his hands hover near her shoulders in case she started to lean. Once they reached her bedroom, he grabbed the blankets and pulled them back so she could just fall in. She tipped helpfully onto the mattress, then twisted around to look up at him.
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” she asked with the sweetest smile.
“Something tells me you’re not quite lucid,” he said as he took the purse she’d snuggled up to and put it on her nightstand. He snapped the covers over her before he could let himself notice that her dress had ridden up to expose more of those soft thighs now. Soft, until she shifted and tension added muscle definition. “So...” he said, forcing his thoughts off her legs, “I’m going to get you a big glass of water, and then I’ll leave.”
“That makes me sad.” Her bottom lip curved into a luscious little pout that made him want to taste her. “I want you to stay.”
“We can talk when you’re sober.”
“Promise?”
When he nodded, her pout turned to a smile. But then the smile wavered. Her eyes glistened.
“Are you okay?” he asked in alarm.
“Yes. You’re just so nice, Gabe.” She sniffled and a tear escaped. Then another. “And so hot. Just so, so hot.”
His laugh was half horror and half amusement. He handed her a tissue, then escaped to the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Here,” he said when he returned. “I think you’d better drink some of this. Can you sit up?”
She gave him a thumbs-up but didn’t move.
“Come on,” he said, carefully sliding his hand behind her neck to help her raise herself up. She cooperated with another smile that was ruined by her having to sniff back tears several times, but then she dutifully drank a third of the glass while he watched.
He pulled the covers up again when she lay down, then backed away. “Need an alarm?” he asked. It was only ten, but she might sleep for quite a while.
“Nope. I work from home.”
He smiled at her fit of giggles, then raised his hand. “Good night, Dear Veronica. It was a hell of a show.”
She aimed a finger pistol at him and winked as she pulled the trigger. “Thanks, Gabe. Don’t forget your promise.”
“I’ll make you a deal. I won’t forget if you don’t.” He had a very strong feeling that she wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. And an even stronger feeling that she’d be sorry if she did.
He turned off her lights and locked the thumb lock on her front door before he stepped outside, grateful that he had time alone to process what she’d said to him. Still, he was smiling as he hit the sidewalk and headed for his own place a block away. No, Veronica Chandler was nothing like he’d thought she’d be. And he was kind of...thrilled.