After the night we’d had, most women would have left, shell-shocked and ready to have their tubes tied. A few might have stuck it out with a grin-and-bear-it attitude. But I was pretty sure almost none of them would have joined in and wound up covered in s’mores under a pile of exhausted little bodies at the end of the night.

Evie hadn’t put up with it, or done it to humor me. Her cheeks had glowed with pleasure, and her lips had been tilted up in a perma-smile. By the time I’d dropped her off at the end of the night, she’d been sporting a pair of crooked braids courtesy of little Winnie, and an electric-purple manicure that covered almost as much of her fingers as it did her nails, but I’ll be damned if she’d ever looked more beautiful to me.

My brain instantly supplied an image of her in that peach lace teddy, and I found myself grinning. Okay, so maybe it was a tie.

The thing that was becoming clearer by the day was exactly how much I enjoyed Evie’s company. Whether she was writhing against me, begging me to make her come, or belly laughing beside me as we watched a movie, she’d managed to work herself into the very fabric of my life.

And I liked it.

I waited for the feeling that always followed that realization. The fight-or-flight response that made me do something stupid to fuck things up, or cut bait and walk away. But cool, never-get-attached Smith was dead silent. Maybe he was dead altogether, because all I felt was hope and excitement for the future. Anticipation of more nights like the one we’d spent with Pam’s kids.

Maybe with our own kids someday?

I gulped down a mouthful of now-tepid coffee, then set the empty mug in the sink.

As crazy as it would have seemed a month ago, now the thought of having some rug rats of my own—rug rats with Evie Reed—didn’t seem crazy at all.

Which meant it was long past time to make an honest man of myself and talk to Cullen. Whatever the outcome, it had to be better than Evie and me sneaking around like a pair of star-crossed teenagers. Cullen was a grown man. He’d be pissed at first, but he’d come around. And then I could finally make this right. I could finally have Evie like I’d dreamed about.

I thumbed through my contacts and tapped Cullen’s number, my muscles tense as I waited for him to pick up.

“What’s up, man?”

He was slightly out of breath, and I glanced at my watch. Eight a.m.

“You already running?” I asked, striving to keep my tone light.

“Nope, just did shoulders at the gym and am about to hit the pavement. Want to join?” he asked.

Seemed like the running trail was as good a place as any to get into this shit. And, hey, at least we’d be close to the lake in the event he straight-up murdered me and needed an easy place to hide the body. After all the lies I’d told him, the least I could do was make it convenient for him.

“Yep, I’m in,” I said. “Meet you by the flagpole in fifteen.”

I was chill as ice cream as I changed into my gym pants and laced up my kicks, but by the time I reached our designated meeting place, my heart was hammering a drumbeat against my ribs. The cadence felt oddly like the lyrics to a song with only one word.

Trai-tor.

Trai-tor.

Trai-tor.

“What’s up, asshole?” Cullen jogged up behind me and punched my shoulder lightly.

I managed a grin in spite of the dark cloud hanging over me. “Hey, prick.”

“Glad you called,” he said. “We haven’t hung out in a while.”

Guilt weighed down my stomach, and suddenly the last thing I felt like doing was running, but I sure as shit couldn’t back out now.

“Yeah, been busy,” I muttered, following his lead and doing a few perfunctory stretches.

“That’s okay. Today’s my five-mile day, so we’ve got plenty of time to catch up,” he replied with an evil grin. “Ready, chump?”

Shit.

I’d been banking on the whole run plus a cooldown taking thirty minutes, tops. I had it all planned out in my head. Ten minutes of bullshit, another ten spent on work stuff, and then, just when he was starting to get short of breath, I’d test the waters on the whole Evie thing.

Short and sweet.

Best of all, if things didn’t go the way I hoped, we wouldn’t be stuck running next to each other, stewing and pissed off. He could go his way, I could go mine, and he’d have the rest of the weekend to cool off.

Five miles from soup to nuts was going to take at least forty-five minutes, maybe even closer to an hour. We hadn’t even started yet, and already that length of time felt interminable.

Lies will do that to you, you jackass.

“Yup, let’s rock and roll,” I said with a grim nod.

We took off at an easy jog, letting our muscles warm up and getting into the groove. Cullen chattered about a blind date he’d gone on that went horribly wrong, and I found myself having to slow my pace because I was laughing so hard.

“A lot of people have pictures of themselves in their apartments, Cull. I have a couple of me and you hiking, and that fishing trip—”

“No, see, that’s what I mean,” he said, shooting me an incredulous look over his shoulder as he jogged. “These weren’t group shots. It was literally just dozens of pictures of herself with her cats on every available surface. They were everywhere. In some, she was looking over one shoulder, like old-style glamour shots, and in others, she was leaning her chin on her hand looking off into the distance. So when I mentioned that she sure had a lot of pictures of herself, you know what she said?”