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He stared back.
A furry gray-and-white head appeared around Devon’s ankle.
Blake glanced down. The cat stared up at him with a set of unique eyes he recognized instantly.
“Hey, Willow.”
The cat he’d seen via video calls looked unimpressed. Devon’s pretty face, on the other hand, still gave away her shock.
“You drove here?”
“Actually, I flew.” Then he corrected himself. “Technically, Draven flew the jet. I rode shotgun.”
Eyes he could get lost in grew impossibly wider. “You used the team’s jet to fly all this way for pizza?”
“And a movie.”
She blinked before a bark of laughter escaped.
There it is.
He’d flown hundreds of miles hoping to hear that sound in person.
Devon shook her head slowly. “But why?”
He could have lied or made another joke. Probably should have, but instead, Blake told her the truth.
“You sounded scared,” he answered honestly. “Last night, on the phone.”
Her gaze dropped, giving him all the confirmation he needed.
“Blake—”
“I’m not asking for details.” He kept his voice easy. “You don’t have to tell me what happened or explain anything you don’t want to explain.” Blake swallowed. “But I am going to ask if I can come inside, because this pizza is getting colder by the second.”
Those eyes came back to his. For several seconds, she didn’t speak. A moment later, she moved to the side.
“Get in here before one of my neighbors sees you and thinks I’m hooking up with the pizza delivery guy.”
Blake chuckled as he stepped into her apartment. The door closed behind him, followed by the locks.
One.
Two.
Three.
Though he wanted to, Blake didn’t comment. He wanted to ask what had happened last night. Instead, he carried the pizza toward the kitchen.
Willow followed.
“Your cat likes me.”
“She’s following the pizza.”
“Still counts.”
Devon laughed softly. “I don’t think it actually does.”
