While she was still reeling from that, he pulled something from his pocket.

A key.

“What’s that?” she asked, her heart starting a heavy beat.

“A key to the Vallejo house.”

“Why—why would you give me a key?”

He shrugged. “For the next time you and any of the girls need to all crash together since I have extra beds. Or if there’s a leaky sink . . . or hell, say you buy a pizza and need someone to eat half of it.” He smiled. “I’d be happy to be that someone.”

She stared at him. “I can’t just let myself into your house,” she said.

“Why not?”

Yeah, her body said. Why not? “Because that’s a big step,” she said carefully.

“It doesn’t have to be.” His expression was leaning toward frustration. “It’s just a damn key, Willa.”

She stared down at it and nodded. And then shook her head. “It feels like a lot more.”

“What it is, is up to you.”

She stared at it some more, shocked at how much one little key could weigh. And then a low oath came from Keane and suddenly the key was gone from her palm as fast as it had appeared.

“You know what?” he said, jamming it back into his pocket. “Never mind—”

“No, you just took me off guard—”

He shook his head. “Forget it. Another time maybe.”

Chest tight, unsure of what the hell had just happened and which one of them was to blame for the sudden chasm that had opened so wide between them that she couldn’t possibly cross it, she hesitated. She had no idea what to say. “ ’Night,” she finally whispered.

“ ’Night.”

Well, she’d walked herself right into a corner now, hadn’t she, leaving her no choice but to go inside and shut the door. She immediately turned to it, palms on the wood. Her heart felt heavy, and scared.

She didn’t want to end the night like this.

She hauled the door open again, Keane’s name on her lips, and there he still stood, hands braced up above him on the doorjamb, head bowed.

He lifted his head, his expression dialed to frustrated male.

“Um,” she said. “I think I might have overreacted about the key.”

He just looked at her. Not speaking.

She had that effect on men.

“I really am all sorts of messed up,” she admitted in a soft whisper.

His eyes warmed a little but his mouth stayed serious. “Well, you’re not alone there.”

She didn’t want to, she really didn’t, but she let out a small laugh. And then she tipped her head down and stared at her feet and felt her eyes sting.

For so long she had been just that. Alone. Yes, she had friends, dear friends who were more like her family than . . . well, than any of her blood family had ever been.

But friends didn’t sleep in her bed and keep her warm and make her heart and soul soar. Friends didn’t give her the best orgasms of her life, even better than her handheld shower massager.

Now she had this guy standing right here in front of her, a smart, loyal, sexy-as-hell guy whose smile took her places she’d never been before. He wasn’t into messy emotions but even so, and even knowing she was, he was still standing there. Baffled. Irritated. Frustrated.

But still standing there.

For her.

“You’re thinking so hard your hair is smoking,” he said.

She was surprised she hadn’t gone up in flames. All she could do was stare at him, more than a little shocked at the intensity shining from his eyes.

He really did want more.

And if it was true, if he really wanted in her damn life as he’d so eloquently said, then . . . well, then there wasn’t anything holding them back. Not a single thing.

Except, of course, herself.

Her heart had started a dull thudding, echoing in her ears. “You’re not ready for this,” she whispered.

He smiled, but it was filled with grim understanding and not humor. “You don’t get to tell me what I am or am not ready for, Willa. And in any case, what you really mean is that you’re not ready, isn’t that right?”

She sucked in some air, but she shouldn’t have been surprised that he called her out on this. He wasn’t one to hide from a damn thing. “I want to be—does that count?”

“For a lot, actually,” he said. “You know where to find me.” He brushed a warm, sweet kiss across her mouth and then he was gone.

Keane walked down the stairs of Willa’s building, not sure how to feel. This wasn’t how he’d seen the evening going. If things had gone his way, he’d be stripping Willa out of her clothes right now.

He thought about how they’d taken each other to places he’d sure as hell never been, and he wanted to go there again. He’d thought, hoped, Willa was coming to feel the same way.

Crazy, considering that until a few weeks ago he could never have imagined that he’d want a relationship. The irony of the fact that he and Willa had mentally changed positions didn’t escape him.

Damn. He’d known better than to get attached but he’d gotten sidetracked by a pair of sweet green eyes and a smile that always, always, put one on his lips as well.

Willa made him feel things and he’d gotten swept away by that. But her entire life had been one big Temporary Situation; foster care as a kid, working at the pet shop where animals came in and out of her life but didn’t stay, men—when and if she let them in, that was.

And for a little while at least, he’d been in, but was starting to realize that had all been an illusion, just hopeful thinking on his part. Because though it was true he’d not done permanent any more than she had, he at least wasn’t fundamentally opposed to trying. Apparently, it only took the right person.

Problem was, that person had to want it back.

With a gnawing hole in his chest, he went home to Vallejo Street. Yeah, dammit, home. He’d gotten attached to this place every bit as much as he had Willa.

Both had been bad ideas.

He looked around at the big, old, beautiful house that reflected back at him some of the best work he’d ever done. He could sell it in a heartbeat and make enough of a profit from the sale to slow his life way the fuck down. He’d have time for the things that he’d never had time for.

Playing pool.

Sitting on rooftops star-gazing.




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