When Enchilada finished, I gathered him into my arms, holding him tight to my chest as I dashed back inside. The door to Cannon’s room had been left ajar, and I nudged it open a few inches further to peek inside. The futon was back into its couch position, and the blankets were folded on top of the desk. His duffel bag and a couple of shopping bags were in the corner. So his stuff was still here, but I wasn’t the least bit comforted.

His note was clear and to the point—but what the hell was I going to say to him?

Sure I’d made a colossal mistake last night, I busied myself making coffee and breakfast. Then I took a shower, as if going through the motions of shampooing, shaving, and blow-drying would make everything better.

I couldn’t wait for this weekend to be over. I’d never wanted it to be Monday morning so badly before in my entire life. I thought if I could disappear into the office, I could lose myself in my weekly routines and obligations, then everything would go back to normal.

Oh, how wrong I was.

I heard a large truck pull up outside and stop, its engine idling. Then a there was a knock on the door.

A man wearing a name badge that read Hank smiled at me and held out a clipboard. “Morning, ma’am. If you’ll sign right here.”

I took the pen and looked down at the page in front of me. “What’s this for?”

Hank tapped the page again. “It’s an acknowledgment of pickup and delivery.”

Two more men bustled past me into the house and into Cannon’s bedroom. What the hell is going on? They came out carrying the futon.

My stomach churned. Oh fuck, he was really moving out. This was it . . . and it would only be a matter of time before Allie cut me out of her life forever. My heart threatened to stop beating.

My phone rang and I grabbed it from the counter, answering without bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Paige. It’s Cannon.”

I’d never been so mortified in my entire life. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. The need to right this situation before it spiraled even further out of control flared up inside me.

“I am so sorry about last night. I never meant to make you feel awkward.” I released a slow, shaky breath, waiting for him to say something.

“So you don’t want to fuck me?”

I flinched at his words. Physically, of course I did. But it wasn’t worth the emotional turmoil that came with it. Even now, deep in emotional turmoil, my body still reacted to him. But he clearly didn’t want that. He was repulsed, in fact. God, I was such a fucking idiot.

My voice quivered as I tried to salvage whatever personal pride I could. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to cause any issues. I don’t want you to think you have to move out.”

“Move out?” His tone was unsure. “Who said anything about moving out?”

“There are men here removing the futon from your bedroom.” Crossing the room to the front window, I peeked out. They had a huge white mattress wrapped in plastic and were hauling it from the back of the truck.

“What? Crap, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Let me start over. I got called into the hospital on short notice and forgot to tell you I’m having a bed delivered today. I couldn’t sleep on that futon anymore. But they weren’t supposed to take the damn thing. It’s yours.”

The men squeezed the mattress through the door and headed for Cannon’s room. Suddenly everything made sense. Cannon wasn’t mad. He wasn’t leaving. In fact, he was making himself more at home.

“Paige? You there?”

“I’m here,” I said after a few moments of silence. “Don’t worry about the futon. It wouldn’t have fit with the bed in there, anyway.”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “If you changed your mind about us . . .”

“Did you?” I asked, my heart resuming its gallop for very different reasons than before.

The delivery crew marched past with the bed frame while I waited for Cannon to answer.

“I’ve been hard since last night thinking about it. I’ve wanted you for ten years, Paige.”

His admission sent a fresh wave of desire rushing through me. “I didn’t change my mind.” My voice was uncharacteristically soft.

“I’ll be home at seven thirty,” he said.

“Dinner?” I asked.

“I take my break at five, and I usually eat then.”

“Okay. Seven thirty,” I repeated. I’d probably be too nervous to eat anyhow. “I’ll see you then.”

Once I’d closed the door behind the delivery crew, I wandered back to Cannon’s bedroom, feeling almost dazed. The huge king-sized bed took up most of the room, an imposing and ominous sign.

Am I really going to go through with this?

Chapter Ten

Cannon

“Have you decided yet?” Dr. Stinson asked, standing beside me.

I looked down at the options again and frowned. Turkey meat loaf or lasagna. If I was going to rock Paige’s world tonight, I wanted to eat light. I didn’t want a stomach full of heavy food to impact my performance.

“I might just hit the salad bar,” I said, turning to see if the offerings looked wilted.

Dr. Stinson chuckled. “I wasn’t asking if you’d decided on dinner. I meant your specialty. You have a clear talent for setting the opposite sex at ease. You’d make a great women’s care practitioner.”

Grabbing a tray from the stack, I followed him to the salad bar. “I’ve been thinking more about, uh . . .”