“No, I mean it in all the best ways possible.”

“Humph. That’s a good thing, then?” she asks.

“It is.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

I look over to my counterpart. Her dark hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and her gold hoops are bigger than the ears she hangs them from. Her smile is knowing and her dark brown eyes searching as they study me and wait for an answer.

“I don’t know.” That’s a lie. I know damn well I want to.

“Well, how did you leave it?”

I chuckle and thoughts of Chase, and that naked, warm body of hers, fill my mind. Close behind are her words about taking care of herself while I was in the shower, and her admission that I was better than her own hand. What man doesn’t want to hear that?

“Do I even want to know the shit that you’re thinking about right now?” she asks in her motherly tone she uses with the little girls she mentors here at The Center when they step out of line.

“Probably not.”

“So?” She raises her eyebrows. “How did you part ways?”

“I left to come to work after one hell of a goodbye kiss.”

“Okay, okay,” she says and nods dramatically. “Now we’re getting somewhere. So she spent the night. Your place or hers?”

“Does it really matter? There was a bed.” I laugh.

“It matters.”

“Mine.”

“Humph. You really do like her, don’t you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

“Men don’t take one-night stands back to their houses. They take them to hotels. They take them to the woman’s place . . . but never their own. Unless of course, you want to see her again because if so, you just showed her where you live.”

“Your logic is . . .” But I can’t finish my train of thought because she’s right. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever taken a one-night stand home with me.

“You sure your girlfriend ain’t crazy? Because if she is, you’re going to have to move.”

“She’s not crazy, Ellie. She’s . . .” Perfect. Sexy. Funny. Intelligent.

She cackles out a knowing laugh. “I’ll repeat myself: you really do like her. So when are you going to call her?”

“I don’t know.”

Her sigh is heavy. “Gunner, Gunner, Gunner. Honey, this is not like you.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I’ve seen you come in here after a good night of sex and all, but this one—this woman—has you a little tied up.”

“I wish she had me a lot tied up,” I tease.

“The kids were as exhausting today as you’re being right now,” she mutters.

“Funny.” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall.