“I don’t have any ice cream, but I’ve got some popsicles.”

“Sounds perfect.”

I call Wes after I drop Katrina at her car. I let her lead the way to her apartment even though I know the way probably better than she does.

“Hey,” Wes answers sounding groggy as he whispers into the phone.

“We’re on our way to the apartment now. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, we all passed out early. Kid is great, but man he’s full of energy.”

I hear Blair in the background. “Ask him about the date.”

“You hear that?” Wes asks.

“Yeah, I heard her. Went well. I’m following her back to the apartment for popsicles.”

He chuckles. “I bet you are.”

I don’t correct his assumption. Grumpy fucker.

“Be there in five.”

Pulling up at the apartment, I shut off the car and pop the console where I stash my condoms. I pull out one. Then grab five more. A tad overzealous perhaps but I’ve got big plans to screw Kitty until it’s physically impossible to go again. I don’t exactly want to work her out of my system, but I’m hoping that after tonight the heavy feeling I get in my chest every time I see or talk to her goes away.

Wes and Blair are already out the door as I jog up the stairs to Katrina’s second-floor apartment. They look like they’ve been through the wringer.

“You two look like shit.”

“Feel like it, too,” Wes says, rubbing a hand over his jaw and looking down adoringly at Blair. “You should hold out for much more next time he ropes you into babysitting.”

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate it.”

I hustle past them, but Blair calls out behind me. “Treat her well, Moreno.”

Blair only uses my last name when I’m in trouble. Like she wants to remind me of who I am, and my last name somehow represents that.

I tap on the door quietly and hear Katrina shuffling inside. The door opens a moment later and she’s the picture of comfort. Changed out of her dress, she’s wearing leggings and a baggy t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, hair pulled up on top of her head. Normally I’d be bummed a chick put on loungewear, signaling that there will be no getting into her panties, but my dick twitches in appreciation confused because those leggings just show off how rocking her body is. A girl that can pull off Spandex is a true gem.

“I changed,” she says, pulling on the hem of her shirt.

“Wanted to slip into something more comfortable for me?”

She snorts, ignores my comment and walks over to the TV stand to grab the remote. “Want to pick up where we left off? We didn’t quite finish the episode where they’re trying to save The Max.”

I did and then beat off to the theme song, but sure as shit not saying that. “Sounds good.”

She hesitates as I move toward the couch as if she’s not sure where to sit or what to do. She takes a seat on one end and curls her feet up under her taking up as little space as possible. She’s folded herself up to pocket size like that’s gonna keep me from touching her. Fat chance, Kitty.