His face definitely went pink then, but his voice remained playful. “Only a little?”

“Is there more in there? Because I don’t think I’m ready for more anytime soon. I’m still in shock.” I rocked back on my heels, peering at him and all that tan skin and white scars and sun lines and that blushing fucking face that shouldn’t have belonged on that body.

His palm went up to scrub at the cheek that was already beginning to get bristly this early in the morning, and I could barely hear him as he coughed, sounding almost fucking shy or maybe embarrassed, “I’d like to think so.”

I snickered and couldn’t help but smile at Blushing Pants. “I think I’m going to have to start watching your rugby games again if that’s when Jonah with a capital J comes out.”

That palm went over his face again as he tipped it back, and I could see him press his lips together. I was pretty sure I heard him snort before replying, “I suppose you should. I don’t want you thinking I’m Jonah with a small j all the time.”

I laughed.

A sense of longing hit me, reminding me of the friendship we had built up so quickly. The friendship that had turned into something more just as quickly. I had liked this man. I had liked him a lot.

This was the asshole I had missed. The one who had given me a reason to be so pissed off when he’d left. I had missed that guy.

“I like Jonah with a little j too,” I told him honestly, letting that easiness of how well we got along fill my heart and remind me yet again that I had done the right thing letting him be here. “I knew there was a reason you’re the one I had a baby with, Jonah with a capital J.” And then I took a step back, because it was easy being friends with him, but I didn’t need to confuse the rest of me by feeling things that could change that. “Thank you for scaring him. You’re the first person to stand up for me like that in about twenty years. It was nice, and I appreciate it.”

He blinked and the very tall man, who I had mistakenly thought was all teddy bear but really had some honey badger DNA in him apparently, smiled at me with that gentle, sweet smile that I really did like a little too much. More than the serial killer one, if I had to pick. “Anything for you, Len.”

And there he went.

I took another step back and didn’t totally have to force my next smile. What was the last thing he’d said? About having lunch? “I need to go get Peter some water. Come get me if you want to eat later… if you still want to have lunch with me without Mo around. I brought my food, but it’ll be good tomorrow.”

He nodded, and I was only a few feet away when he called out, “I wasn’t inviting you to eat to see Mo, Len.”

I fought a smile as I went to the break room and filled up a bottle of water before heading back to the cage. Sure enough, by the time I was back at Peter’s side, he was the first one to turn very slowly to look at me, and ask, way too casually, “Everything okay with Shawn?”

I unscrewed the lid, not looking at him. “Yeah.”

Peter went “hmm.”

Then I went “hmm.”

And he asked, “Did your friend say something to him?”

My friend.

I took a sip and held the bottle toward him. He took it. “Yeah, he did. It almost made me feel like a lady or something.”

Peter smiled with the bottle against his lips.

I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder to find Jonah carrying two more forty-five-pound weights across the part of the floor he was on. I could see the pop of his triceps from all the way over here. He slowly lowered the weights to the ground and, when he stood back up again, readjusted the band of his shorts. Then he moved toward a corner and picked up what looked like a mini-notebook and started writing something down in it.

I’d bet he was just keeping track of his reps so he had something to compare to next time. He tapped the end of it against his forehead for a moment before jotting something else down in it.

I went up to my tiptoes and pressed my lips together for a second. “I like him more than I should, Peter. I don’t like it.”

Peter, though, didn’t respond.

“He laughed when I swept him. Can you believe that?”

This man I knew as equal parts my father and friend was watching me carefully, thinking, and he took his time giving me a slow smile at the same time he set his hand on my shoulder. “He’s a good person, Len, but he has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.”

I smiled.

Peter bumped his elbow against mine. I did it right back to him.

“Would you mind getting my jacket from the office?” he asked.

I nodded, kicked off my flip-flops again and jogged across the mats to my office. Flicking on the lights, I headed toward the coat rack where seven different coats in different sizes hung. Six medium-sized jackets and sweaters, and one tiny baby jacket. I grabbed a hoodie from the top hook and turned to my desk. I dropped the mail I was still holding on top of it and, for some reason, pulled my phone out of my pocket just to check if I’d gotten something.

There were four texts, but when I went to my messages it instantly took me to the last messages I’d been replying to. Grandpa Gus’s.

Two of the four were from him, which were pictures of Mo at the zoo with drool all over her face and a big smile too. According to his messages, the day was so nice, he’d changed his mind about going to the museum. I saved those to my gallery and texted him back.

Me: Tell her I love her.

Then I went back to my messages and was torn between being annoyed and… something else.

I went with opening the annoying one first.

It was from Noah.

Noah: Call me when you get a chance.

Like that was going to fucking happen.

With that over, I opened up the next message.

I read it, read it again, typed a response, and then I grabbed my damn stress ball from the top drawer and walked back out.

Chapter 13

2:23 p.m

You’re a real fuck head.

God, I fucking hated people, I thought an hour later as I rewound the video footage for the camera facing the front desk.

I’d forgotten that Grandpa and I had compromised with the security cameras in the main building. He’d wanted the bare minimum our insurance required, and I’d wanted one in every corner and multiple dome cameras every ten feet, and we’d settled for somewhere in the middle. Luckily, luckily, there had been cameras aimed in the right places for what I was looking for.

And what I was looking for was the dickwad who had stolen Bianca’s cell phone. Literally, from what I understood, they reached over the front desk counter while she’d been busy and plucked it from where she had left it beside the keyboard while she’d helped another member who had dropped her purse and gotten her stuff strewn all over the floor.

So now I was going through the footage before we called the cops and reported the incident.

Once we figured out who’d done it, it would save time.

I wasn’t complaining too much. She’d called about thirty minutes after I’d gotten the text message that had forced me to squeeze my stress ball for a solid three minutes.