Page 91 of Rising Heat

“Alright.”

I catch it one-handed.

“What?”

He pops the tab on his own can.

“What’s the plan?”

“What plan?

He shoots me a look.

“The tenant plan.”

“Her name’s Darcy,” Mack says, not bothering to look up while he unwraps tape from his wrist. “And there’s no plan.”

I spread my hands gesturing to the floor.

“Bullshit,” Trick calls from the other side of the room.

Coop leans back against the lockers.

“I’d also like to hear this nonexistent plan.”

“There isn’t a Darcy plan.”

Ryan points his beer at me.

“So your strategy is…what, then?”

I shrug.

“Keep acting normal.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Trick snorts into his beer.

Twenty-four hours snowed in with Darcy should’ve solved this. In any other version of my life, being stuck in a house with a woman that beautiful would’ve ended with all three of our clothes on the floor before the first storm warning finished flashing across the TV. Instead, we played cards, cooked breakfast, and somehow spent more time talking than flirting. We learned about each other’s families and exes and talked about the kind of shit people usually keep to themselves. The kind Mack and I normally don’t think to ask.

“You’re way too invested in this.”

He stands and points toward the door.

“Make a move or stop acting like seeing her in the hallway is gonna kill you.”

He starts walking toward the showers.

“Oh.”

He looks back.

“And if she tells you both to fuck off…”

He shrugs.

“…then at least you’ll finally shut up about it.”