Drop Dead Gorgeous

That’s enough for us.

Zoey’s smile is surer as I pull a chair out for her and she sits down with my people. They could be her people too . . . if she wants. If she trusts that everything will be fine and she won’t shower some cursed rain on our lives just by hanging out with us.

I sit down too and lay an arm around the back of her chair, claiming her.

I lean over to whisper in her ear, “Did I tell you that you look beautiful?”

She smiles softly. “Maybe you did.”

But that light in her eyes says she knows good and well that I did.

But I’m happy to say it again and again because she does look gorgeous, especially in pajamas. And in scrubs or jeans, and most definitely in nothing, but that’s only been in my imagination so far.

“Did I tell you thank you for saving my ass tonight?”

“You definitely did not.”

“My mistake. Thank you, Miss Walker, for saving us in this most important battle.” I pitch my voice, mimicking a medieval knight and offering a formal bow of my head.

Zoey grins. “Battle? Not exactly the life or death emergency I thought I was walking into.”

“No, not life or death. Much more important than that. This was a battle for honor and bragging rights,” I declare, still sounding like Sir Lancelot. “Our very reputation as trivia nerds depended on you.”

“Well, I guess I’m glad I read that article about using genetic genealogy to narrow down suspects in unsolved case files.” Her lip quirks on the left, that tiny tell that means she thinks she’s said something off-putting.

“Do you know how sexy that sounds?”

“Unsolved case files?”

“No, that you read,” I tell her honestly. “I love a woman who reads—who wants to learn, understand, and experience things beyond whatever life offers. It’s sexy. Your mind is sexy.”

Zoey tries to hide it, but I see the smile on her pink lips. A full one that I cherish. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before. Usually, people think my mind is the three Ds—dark, deadly, and dangerous—constantly filled with plans for ungodly acts.”

“I’m thinking of some ungodly acts right now,” I tease, rubbing my thumb along her shoulder where her cardigan has dipped down to expose a few inches of bare skin.

“Blake,” she sighs in warning.

Or want?

I lean closer, slowly getting into her space, and she tilts her head, lifting her chin.

Our breath mingles for a split second before becoming one, her lips soft beneath mine. She tastes like possibilities and hope, and I instantly become hard beneath the table.

This woman is driving me insane. I reach up to cup her jaw for more, and she yields to me, giving in to this fire that’s been building.

Finally. While I’m lost in Zoey, I somehow realize that it’s gone quiet around us, and not just in that ‘tuned out everything else’ way, but actual silence.

I smack her lips once more and smile, opening my eyes to find that my friends are all watching raptly. Even Cole is flashing that too-white smile. “Hey, Heather, I got a few questions right too. Don’tcha think I deserve a ‘good job’ too?”

“Good job, Cole,” Heather deadpans. “You have my permission to go spank your monkey.”

The banter between the two of them has taken the attention off Zoey and me, which I’m thankful for because she looks as shell-shocked as I feel.

Trey says, as casual as can be, “Hey, Blake, I forgot to tell you, Serena says hi.”

I glance his way, knowing Serena didn’t say a damn thing because I saw her after our morning jog not twelve hours ago. But the shit-eating grin on his face tells me he said what he said for a reason, to remind me that he thinks Zoey could be my Serena.

Hell, maybe he’s right, but I’ll never know if she won’t at least go out with me. But we can go at the snail pace speed she needs, especially if it leads to kisses like that.

“Serena is Trey’s wife,” I explain to Zoey before giving Trey a meaningful look. “Yeah, man. Tell her hi too.”

Message received, loud and clear, and I’m not arguing anymore. I settle back into my chair, one arm thrown around Zoey, to order us some nachos.

Dinner and drinks, but still not a date.

Chapter 12

Zoey

Work is quiet. Quiet as a tomb, as it were.

I haven’t had a call out in two days, which is rare but possible. County policy is that anyone who dies in a hospital or under the care of a doctor doesn’t need my services unless foul play is suspected. So no foul play, and nobody dying at home or from traffic accidents is good, for me and county residents, but . . . well, I could really use a distraction right now.

My brain is on a playback loop, showing me Blake’s happy smiles at trivia night a few days ago. He’s got this light inside him, a purity that shines golden and bright, drawing people to him like a beacon of joy.