This could be awkward.

He just pulls me in for a hug, wraps those strong arms around me and pulls me into him, against his chest and rocks me back and forth for just a moment. I feel him kiss my head and frown.

What is this?

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he whispers and pulls away, his gray eyes soft and a smile on those lips. “Are you sure you don’t have a favorite band?” he asks hopefully as he backs toward his car.

I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah… Matchbox Twenty is pretty good.”

“You slay me.” He grips both hands over his heart.

“Go home,” I tell him with a smile and pull the door open, step into the warm lobby and look back as he lowers himself into his car. He winks and waves as he pulls away.

I am in so much trouble.

Chapter Three

~Leo~

“What are your weekend plans?” I ask Sam as we jog up her street. It’s Friday, and we’ve run together every morning this week. Monday set the tone. We run, we have breakfast, I walk her home and leave.

Jesus, I want to kiss her again.

But I think she needs a friend more than anything, and damn if I don’t like her. When she forgets to keep those walls erected around her and loosens up a bit she’s funny as hell and fun to talk with.

And it’s certainly not a hardship to watch her run in her little yoga pants and tank. She has a strong, lean body.

I wonder what those legs would feel like wrapped around my waist.

“Every day is a weekend, Leo,” she responds dryly, bringing me out of my fantasy. “But I think I’m meeting up with Nat and Jules for coffee tomorrow afternoon.”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

She laughs; her big blue eyes light up and she wrinkles her adorable nose at me. “You clearly don’t understand the girl definition of having coffee.”

“Enlighten me.” We’re both starting to breathe heavily now. When we started this on Monday I was sure that our little runs wouldn’t challenge me, but Sam is a strong runner.

“We’ll meet at a coffee shop, buy a beverage, and gossip for a few hours.”

“What do you talk about?” I ask, although I really don’t care. I just want to hear that sexy, raspy voice of hers.

“I can’t tell you that. It’s girl stuff.”

“C’mon, I won’t tell anyone. Swear.” I cross my heart and grin down at her.

“Nope.” She shakes her head and smiles some more.

“Fine. Then I won’t tell you my gossip.” I shrug nonchalantly and grin.

“What gossip?” She asks.

“Not telling.”

“Fine.” She shrugs and glances at me from the corner of her eye, trying to hold a smile in. Finally, she laughs and shoves me in the shoulder. “You don’t have any gossip, you jerk.”

Before I can respond, my toe catches on a raised portion of the sidewalk and I feel myself pitch forward, face-first onto the sidewalk.

“Shit!”

My knee catches the most grief from the fall, and I roll out of it and back onto my feet.

“Are you okay?” Sam grips my upper arms in her strong, little hands, her eyes wide and worried, searching my face, panting.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“I’m fine. No big.” Her eyes take a journey down my body and she gasps when she sees my knee.

“No you’re not! You’re bleeding.”

“It’s just a scrape, Sam.”

“You’re bleeding,” she repeats and squats in front of me, examining the tiny scrape. I didn’t even know it was there until she said something.

“It doesn’t hurt. Come on, let’s keep running.”

“No way, I’m taking you home and patching you up. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you that hard.” She stands and her eyes find mine again, her brows pulled together in a frown.

I laugh and run my thumb over her frown lines, ignoring her little flinch. “I’m fine.”

“Come on. Run’s over.” She takes my hand and turns us back toward her apartment, walking quickly.

Could she be any more adorable?

We reach her building, and for the first time this week, she leads me in with her, waves at the doorman and pulls me into the elevator.

“This is a nice building,” I comment, watching her face.

I can’t get enough of her face.

“Yeah, I like it.”

She’s suddenly digging around in her bra, and unfastens her key from her tight sports bra.

“I do love your storage system.” And I want to dig around in there.

Sam smirks and leads me to her apartment.

I am not prepared for Sam’s apartment.

The space is open and surprisingly big. Light. There are large windows, offering in plenty of sunshine.

I smirk to myself. Appropriate.

But instead of the modern, sleek, cold home I was expecting, I’m met with big, inviting furniture in reds and blues, plants and flowers, fashion magazines on the coffee table, her laptop closed on the couch. There is a gas fireplace in the corner and filmy white curtains on the windows. A piano pushed upright against the far wall.

She plays?

“Come on in. We’ll go back to the master bathroom, that’s where my first aid kit is.” She smiles and throws her key in a bowl by the door.

“This is a great place.”

Her smile is wide and as inviting as her home. “Thank you.”