Henry had left by the time I’d stepped outside again and that was a good thing. While I’d calmed down and could see a little bit of Reece’s logic, I was still fired up about the fact that he had the balls to come to my place and I wasn’t entirely convinced that it hadn’t been Henry. To me, it made more sense than some random guy stalking me.

It was late when we got back to Reece’s condo, and I had toyed around with the idea of staying with my parents instead, but if I was going to be honest with myself—­and what fun was that?—­I wanted to stay with Reece.

“Want something to drink?” Reece asked, dropping the keys on the kitchen counter. They rattled like wind chimes crashing to the floor.

“Sure.”

“Tea? Soda? Beer?”

“Beer. I could use some beer.”

One side of his lips turned up as he grabbed two Coronas out of the fridge and popped the tops before handing one to me. “Sorry, no lime.”

“Thanks. I really don’t like lime in my drinks anyway.” Taking a sip, I turned away. Though it was almost midnight, I wasn’t ready to sleep. Exhaling loudly, I walked over to the balcony doors. “Do you mind?”

He arched his brow. “Babe, make yourself at home.”

“I always thought that was such a weird thing to say. Why would you want ­people to make themselves at home in your house?” I pulled the curtain back and unlocked the doors. “If ­people did, they’d be running around your place naked.”

“If it’s you, I wouldn’t mind at all.” He grinned over the neck of his bottle. “Actually, I’d prefer it.”

“Pervert,” I muttered, and then stepped out into the cool night air.

Sitting in a chair, I tucked my legs up. A ­couple of minutes passed before Reece joined me. He was barefoot as he kicked his legs up on the railing. I don’t know why, but I thought the combination of jeans and bare feet were sexy.

There was also a good chance I just found a lot of things sexy.

We sat there in silence for a ­couple of moments, and I was struck by the similarity between what we were doing and what my parents did almost every night when they thought the kids were in bed.

They’d sneak outside to have a beer and some time together.

I glanced down at my bottle and toyed with the label. My heart rate kicked up a little, because this—­this felt so very real and that . . . wow, that scared me.

Needing to distract myself, I asked, “Do you really think Henry has nothing to do with what’s been happening?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Ugh.