Okay. Okay. I can do this. I can talk to her—just talk—without kissing her and without accidentally coming in my pants. And this is a good thing anyway: I can explain to her about the shelter replacement and I can warn her the fuck away from Northcutt. This will work, it will totally work, and this conversation will end without me betraying my promise to Elijah. I gesture her over to a seat and then I offer to get her a drink, an offer she accepts. And it’s while I’m in the kitchen getting her a La Croix—carefully angling my body so she doesn’t see the heavy erection still pressing against my
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