I said nothing.

“You do know, you just got nothin’ else,” he said softly.

“Maybe I should go home or get a hotel room tonight or something,” I suggested.

Without hesitation, he responded, “I can’t do that either, Evie. Really. So please don’t make me.”

When I made no reply, he reached a hand to me.

I didn’t want to take it.

I wanted to run far away from him and his people and that look on his face that he got after just one very short dose of my mother.

I needed to figure myself out.

I needed to sort out my life.

What I didn’t need to do was drag a nice guy like Daniel Magnusson along for that ride.

My body had other thoughts.

In other words, I reached for his hand.

He pulled me out of the couch, murmuring, “Grab your book and your bag, honey.”

I grabbed my book and my bag as he scooped up the handles of all my other bags.

I then chanced glances at Duke and Tex, both of whom had stony faces and gazes locked on Mag.

I figured this was so I wouldn’t see the pity if they looked at me.

“Thanks for everything, guys,” I said.

Duke rearranged his expression when his attention came to me.

Tex did not and his look made me glad he didn’t know where my mother lived.

“See you tomorrow, darlin’,” Duke bid as Mag led me to the door.

“I have to work tomorrow,” I told him.

“Then see you soon,” he replied.

He would not.

I nodded.

Mag pulled me out the door, to his truck, opened my side for me, stowed my stuff in the backseat and waited until I got in before he closed it.

He was in and we were on our way by the time I spoke.

“Danny, maybe we should talk.”

“I did tours. Over there. Afghanistan. Iraq. Syria.”

I decided maybe we shouldn’t talk but I did not share that verbally.

“You would not…it’s impossible to describe…”

He cleared his throat.

I stared at his profile.

“In many cases, women over there are not treated very well.”

Oh man.

“Danny, honey.”

He glanced at me then back at the road.

“Let me do this.”

I closed my eyes and faced forward.

“Please, Evan. Let me take care of you however that comes about.”

I opened my eyes.

But I didn’t say anything.

He did.

“Please.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

He reached out, grabbed my hand, held it and drove one-handed.

We were nearing his place when he said quietly, “No matter the circumstances, a mother does not talk to her daughter that way.”

“I know,” I said quietly back.

He squeezed my hand and murmured, “Good.”

And then he finished driving us to his place.

Chapter Ten

Pushover

Mag

Why would we do this?” she asked.

“Just get ready,” he ordered.

“Danny—”

“I’m cuttin’, honey, and if I beat you, you owe me the movie of my choice and I’m feelin’ Anaconda.”

She looked down at the can of beer she had on its side on the counter of the island with one of his penknives pointed to it, close to the base, as he’d instructed.

“On the count of three,” he warned.

She looked to him and opened her mouth.

“One,” he began.

“This is stupid,” she said.

“Two,” he went on.

“I’ve never seen Anaconda. Maybe I’ll like it.”

“Three,” he finished.

He shoved his knife in his can and heard her do the same.

Then he circled it to make the hole bigger, pulled it out, put the opening to his mouth, popped the top and beer gushed into his mouth.

He was busy chugging, but he still managed to look around his can to see she had hers to her mouth and beer was running down her cheeks and chin, soaking the collar of her tee that read, “THAT’S WHAT.” —SHE.

Seriously kickass shirt.

Seriously cute Evie.

He finished and had crushed his can in his hand when she started sputtering, careened to his sink, dropped her can and spit beer into it.

“You suck,” he told her, smiling. “And it’s Anaconda.”

She looked to him, rolled her eyes and snatched up a dishtowel to wipe her face.

Still wiping, she asked, “Is this your attempt to make my t-shirt wet?”

He tossed his can in the recycling as he walked to her, slung an arm around her shoulders and curled her to his front.

“Dual-purpose time-saver for the consummate frat boy. If you can get ’em drunk at the same time you get ’em wet, you’re golden.”

He couldn’t know with Evie if that’d piss her right off or if she’d take it in the spirit he intended.

He was pleased as fuck she took it in the spirit he intended and busted out laughing.

When she did, he grinned down at her and slid his other arm around her.

Evan Gardiner laughing in his arms when all he’d seen from her that day was turned on, confused, lost and looking like she was about to cry.

The turned-on bit was good.

The rest sucked.

This was much better.

She rested both hands holding the dishtowel on his chest and smiled up at him.

Then she informed him, “I hate beer.”

That was when Mag busted out laughing.

When he was done, she was still smiling, and Christ.

Christ.

She was pretty.

Suddenly, he heard her mother’s voice, the words she said coming at Evie through her phone, and he felt a burn hit his gut.

“And since I didn’t totally officially get to make you breakfast, I’ll whip up something for dinner,” she said.

“I thought we’d Postmate it. Maybe Chinese.”

Her face screwed up. “You keep trying to intervene, which is giving me the sense you don’t trust my cooking.”

“I don’t know. Are you gonna force me to eat kale and quinoa?”

“Since I only have what’s in your house to work with, and that’s not in your house, no. And since I hate kale, no times two. But fair warning, I dig quinoa.”

Fair warning.

Giving the impression she’d be cooking for him again.

That was not skittish Evie.

That was an Evie he could get onboard with.

He gave her a squeeze before he let her go, saying, “Have at it.”

She started moving around his kitchen as he turned his back to the counter of the island, put the heels of his palms to it, and hefted his ass up on it to watch her.

“Do you have a taste for anything?” she asked.

“Rib eye and loaded baked potato.”

Slowly, she turned to him.

“Though I don’t have either of those on hand for you to cook,” he told her.

She did another eye roll with a headshake, but one side of her lips quirked up.

She rummaged in his fridge and came out of it with her arms full of cheese and meat.

“Bacon cheeseburgers?” she asked.