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I spend a moment admiring her ass while she bends at the waist to search a lower shelf. This friends routine she insisted on is causing me some physical pain, but if it means I get to spend time with her, I’ll happily do it forever.

Her head whips around to look at me and she catches me staring. I grin. “Have you got a drink on the very bottom shelf there?”

Shaking her head at me in mock exasperation, she says, “Do I seem like the kind of woman who knows what’s in her fridge at any given moment?”

“I refuse to answer that question.” I’m not getting on her bad side this early in the night.

“Good decision, buddy. Now, I have water, coke, beer or vodka.”

“Since when do you drink beer?”

“I don’t.”

I consider that for a moment. “Fat Yak?”

She smiles. “Of course.”

Jesus. She’s bought my favourite beer. “Beer it is then.”

She passes me a Fat Yak and grabs a Vodka Cruiser for herself. Closing the fridge, she turns and walks to where I’m standing in her tiny kitchen. Callie’s apartment is small and cluttered. Her decorating style is the complete opposite of mine. Walls are filled with paintings, photos, and quote prints. Shelves are stacked with books and ornaments. But as different as her place is to mine, this space that is all hers feels homely and welcoming. It’s Callie all over—just like she’d draw a new friend in for a hug, her home envelopes you and encourages you to open up to her.

I’ve been looking forward to this night for days. I couldn’t give a fuck about the roast she’s promised me; I’m here only for her. Having her stand so close to me is dangerous, though. When she lifts up onto her tiptoes to brush a kiss across my lips, a shudder of need consumes me.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m all sorts of distracted by having you in my kitchen.

I don’t touch her. I refuse to snake my hand around her waist even though it’s begging me to. Pinning my gaze to hers, I rasp, “If you do that again, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Heat flares in her eyes. She takes a step back. It’s the quick flick of her tongue over her lips that anchors my attention and causes me to stumble a little more.

I’m not sure how long we linger in this moment together.

Watching.

Longing.

Fighting the unyielding pull to each other.

It’s not until she speaks that we drift from it. “Did you bring me something?”

I blink. When I realise her gaze is focused on the bag I placed on her table, I nod. “Yeah. I found it online a little while ago and knew you’d like it.” I’ve had it sitting at my house for a month, before anything ever happened between us. I’ve spent that month trying to figure out whether to give it to her or not.

Her eyes glitter with excitement as I pass it to her. “Luke, I freaking love presents! Thank you.” Her joy hits me in the gut. It’s been too long since I’ve seen this kind of happiness. Hell, it’s been too long since I’ve had a woman thank me for anything.

She rips into the present, and the glittering excitement in her eyes quickly turns to a bulge. “Oh, my God… Oh-my-freaking-God!” Her face angles up, and she stares at me in shock. “How did you know?”

“I pay attention.”

“Ron Pope is one of my favourite singers.” She holds the signed vinyl album up. “This is amazing. I didn’t even know he sold them signed.”

I shrug. “It’s amazing what people do when asked.”

Her eyes bulge a little more. “You contacted him and asked him to do this?”

“Yes. He’s a great guy.”

Her breathing picks up, and she appears to be at a loss for words, which is out of character. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received. Which means you are in danger of having my lips on yours again. And that means I am in danger of the consequences. And that means we are both screwed. So, you need to go into the lounge room right now and give me a minute to get a handle on this.”

Fuck. This could go south very quickly. Not that it would be south for me, but Callie’s made her position on this relationship clear, and I’m fighting to honour that decision. “You want me to put the album on?” She’s one of the only people I know who still has a record player. Vinyl is a love we both share.

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