"I really don't know. I'm a great guy."
Paige laughed. Yes, Sean was a great guy. Great job, great looks, great personality. Great commitment issues too. "Sure you are. What did Yvette want? Marriage?"
"She wanted to move in some of her stuff."
Paige put on a face of horror. "God, the gall of the girl. How could she? After all, you've only gone out with her, what, a hundred times in the past six months?"
"I'm protective of my drawer space. My loft is small."
She rolled her eyes. "I bet. Why do you want a date? You heard James. If you go alone, you're guaranteed your own dating service. You were at James and Tate's wedding in Boston with all the granddaughters those seniors brought from Florida."
He winked. "I prefer you."
"I'm not easy. And you're not getting into my pants."
Sean snorted. "Don't I know that. I've been trying to get you to go out with me ever since you started working at Rosita's."
"I'm seeing someone." Sort of.
"So I heard. I also heard he's not accompanying you to the wedding. His choice or yours?"
Actually it was nobody's choice; it was just common sense. Not that she'd mentioned a word to Nico.
"His loss," Sean said, reading her face. "What do you say? Just two friends keeping each other company at the wedding?"
* * * *
After several hours of traveling and another making sure he didn't have a tail, Nico sneaked into Paige's place, his brain reprimanding him in a constant loop. He was well aware this insanity had to stop. Too bad he couldn't help it.
She'd tried to give him the keys last week, but he'd refused, afraid they would be one more thing that could lead back to her. Besides, he could pick a lock with the best of them. He might as well put his skills to use. The worst had already happened: in his last visit, he'd found a half-naked transgender linebacker with a net on her head and a baseball bat in her hand, ready to swing it at him as he opened the door.
This time no one met him at the entrance. Silently he moved to Paige's room, where she was already sleeping. He shucked his clothes and slid into her bed. The second he spooned her, she turned and burrowed against him, cuddling and mumbling something about her Escobar.
That she spoke in dreams about him made his heart hurt. Man, he was so fucking gone. Before her, he wouldn't have moved an inch out of his way to fuck someone, much less hop a plane and then drive around for an hour to ensure he wasn't followed. All that trouble just to sleep with a woman? Hold her in his arms and listen to her soft breathing? Please.
Nico smoothed her hair and tucked some strands behind her ear. She was a platinum blonde now. He chuckled softly. Hopefully she found herself soon. He was expecting her to be a Smurfette the next time he saw her. On the plus side, she didn't seem to have new holes on her, although who knew; the night was young. Whatever the color of her hair or how many piercings she got, it wouldn't stop him from coming to her. At this point, nothing short of getting killed would keep him from her. Probably not even that.
He'd admonished Jack for keeping in e-mail contact with Elle. And here he was, risking everything for a chance to wake up next to Paige. Nuts.
He never felt more safe and at peace than with her.
He was beat yet too pumped up to relax, or so he thought. Next thing he knew, there was daylight coming through the window. For the first time in a week, since he'd last been with Paige actually, he'd gotten a good night's sleep.
His cock was hard, like always when she was around, but he didn't move, that damn tight feeling again squeezing his chest. Making it damn difficult to breathe. He loved having her in his arms. Loved watching her sleep. Loved her, period. That realization didn't sit well with him, so he tossed it aside. It couldn't be love. It had to be something else. Indigestion. Heart attack. Aneurysm. He'd take anything before love. Love was lethal.
She woke up and nuzzled his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipple, and without opening her eyes said, "Good morning. You taste good, Jacob."
Nico froze. "Who the fuck is Jacob?"
Paige looked up and broke into laughter. "God, you should see your face, Escobar."
"Not funny, Goth girl," he grunted, the breath he hadn't realized he was holding whooshing out.
"Aw, you were worried, weren't you?" she said, her pout adorable. "I was kidding."
"I don't share well." As a matter of fact, he didn't share at all when it came to Paige. Not that he had any right to say otherwise if she decided to see a Jacob. Or a Ted or a John or a whole football team. He had no claim over her. Uncomfortable as all fuck with that line of thought, he shook it off.
"I guess going to Jack and Elle's wedding with a date is not going to go down well either? He's just some guy. A buddy of mine."