“Please. I know you. Which is why I’ve arranged for you to have dinner with a man tonight.”

“A blind date?”

Molly nodded.

“No. Call it off. I’m not going on a blind date.”

“It’s too late, he’s already on his way to the restaurant. James is a kind man. Please give him a chance Lucy.”

******

Some days were just harder than others. If Wyatt had to admit it, he was lonely. He wanted to call Lucy. He loved hanging out with Lucy. But he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, his heart still belonged to Jessica but maybe...

So, he couldn’t call Lucy. He decided to call one of his old army buddies.

No success, everyone seemed to be busy with their significant others.

Suddenly, he thought of Rufus. He was friends with Jiya too, he could totally hang out with them. It had been a while since their last mission, it would be great to see them. He sent Rufus a text.

Wyatt: Hey, what are you up to?

Wyatt: Want to grab dinner?

Wyatt: Jiya welcome

Wyatt put his phone down trying to pretend he wasn’t desperately waiting for a response. The clock ticked. He turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. Finally, the phone buzzed on the table.

Rufus: Jiya and I were just heading to that new restaurant on King

Rufus: The one with pink door

Rufus: You are welcome to join

Wyatt: Great I’ll see you there soon

Wyatt hoped he wasn’t crashing their date night. Nah, Rufus would have said that. They were cool.

*****

Lucy was here under duress. She did not want to be here but it would be rude to just up and leave poor James. But this was not a date, she reminded herself. This was a meeting arranged by her cousin.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rufus and Jiya walk in and take a seat. Rufus! Maybe he could save her. Talking to this man was like watching paint dry, nice but so, so dull. As James droned on about his interest in horses, Lucy nodded and smiled and plotted her escape.

“Sorry, I just felt my phone buzz. I’d better check, we have this thing going on at work.” She hauled her phone out of bag. And quickly texted Rufus one simple word - HELP.

She was trying so hard to appear interested, that she did not hear Rufus approach “Lucy! Funny meeting you here.”

“Hello, Rufus. This is James, a friend...” Lucy knew she was reaching but this was not A DATE.

Rufus looked at Lucy like he wasn’t buying it. “Hi, Lucy and I are work colleagues. Speaking of work, Lucy can I steal you away for a moment?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back James.”

As soon as they rounded the corner to the hallway with the restrooms, Lucy let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“No problem. Lucy who is James?” Rufus looked at her quizzically.

Lucy looked down, “a man my cousin Molly wanted me to meet.”

“A date? I didn’t know you were dating. Good for you! Although, I really thought you were interested in someone else if you know what I’m saying?”

Lucy blushed. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not interested in James.”

“Then why don’t you just tell him that. I’m sure he would appreciate the honesty. Then you both can move on.”

“You’re right. That would be the adult mature thing to do. I’ll do it!” She turned and began walking around the corner and turned back and looked at Rufus. “Off to adult!”

*****

Twenty minutes after Lucy had decided to adult she was still sitting at the table with James. Adulting is hard! She had tried to tell him but it was like he didn’t want to hear it. Right now, she was thinking she was going to have to say “I don’t like you,” in order for him to understand! And no one wants to hear that!

James was talking again and again she was trying to pay attention. It was at that moment, she felt more than saw Wyatt walk into the restaurant. She knew he was there, even without looking up. It was as though the air crackled when they were near one another. Gave a whole new meaning to the term sparkage.

But she and Wyatt were not to be. He was still holding out hope they would find a way to bring his wife back. Lucy was divided on that, part of her really wanted Wyatt to be happy and have his wife back the other part was selfish, she wanted Wyatt for herself. But he had implied maybe...

She looked over and saw Wyatt had joined Rufus and Jiya. So, the gang were hanging out without her. It hurt a little.

*****

Wyatt hadn’t even taken his seat when he turned on Rufus. “Is that Lucy over there? On a date? Is that why you brought me here? To show me I’m going to lose Lucy? That’s low Rufus, really low.”

“Woah! I had no idea that Lucy and her date would be here. Stop playing the blame game! But since you mentioned it, there is no reason for Lucy not to be on a date. It’s not like you told her you had feelings.”

“Rufus.” Wyatt said warningly.

“Don’t Rufus me. I’m just telling it like it is.”

*****

Lucy kept looking over at her friends.  How she wished she were there instead of here. How she wished she were ANYWHERE instead of here.

“You okay?”

Oh no, James noticed her boredom. How rude of her. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just a little tired. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I know…” He proceeded to explain all the things he did when he was tired to stay awake.

All Lucy could think was maybe I could fall ill…that’s it. “Excuse me, sorry James, I have to run to the ladies. I’ll be right back.”

Lucy could feel Wyatt’s eyes on her as she left the table and headed for the hallway with the restrooms.

She made it to the restroom, reapplied her lipstick, fluffed her hair, washed her hands. She ran out of things to do. She looked at her watch, they had only had an appetizer, still a main course to go. She could do this. It was just a meal. James was nice. Buck up Preston you are made of sterner stuff than this.

With that, with her head held high she walked out of the ladies room and directly into Wyatt.

“Were you waiting for me?” She practically hissed.

“No, I mean yes, I mean I wanted to talk to you but I didn’t want to interrupt your date.” Wyatt looked down at his feet.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I just wanted to say hi.”

“Well hi back. I should get back now.” Lucy began to walk away.

“Wait! Who is he? Is he good enough for you?” Wyatt could not stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

Lucy turned to look at him.

“I mean I know he’s not good enough for you. It’s just I had no idea you were seeing someone. I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention.” Wow. He really wasn’t making things any better.

Lucy walked back to Wyatt. “You were paying plenty of attention.”

Wyatt blushed. So she had noticed.

“But he’s isn’t a date, he’s just a guy my cousin wanted me to meet. There won’t be another meeting.”

“Why did your cousin want you to meet him?” Wyatt was so confused.

“She wanted it to be a date. She thinks I need to get back out there. I disagree but it would have been rude to cancel at the last minute.”

“And you wouldn’t want to be rude,” Wyatt teased.

“That’s a bit rich coming from the man who insisted on calling me Ma'am” she winked at him. “But I really should get back and you should get back to the group dinner to which  you didn’t bother inviting me.” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice but she could see in Wyatt’s eyes he had heard it.

“It was actually a last minute thing, I invited myself to hang out with Rufus and Jiya, still not sure if they are just humouring me.”

“Next time you need someone to hang out with you should call me. I can be fun.”

“Next time, maybe I shall” he smiled at her and got lost in her beautiful eyes.

They were looking so intently at one another they didn’t notice James until he cleared his throat.

“Oh my God, James! This is Wyatt, Wyatt Logan, another one of my colleagues.”

Wyatt stuck out his hand and James shook it saying, “James, James Smith, a friend of Lucy’s.”

“Sorry for hogging your friend James.”

“No problem, I just wanted to come back and make sure she was okay.” He turned to Lucy. “You were gone a long time so I worried you were sick or something.”

Lucy saw her way out and seized it like a life raft. “Actually James, I’m really not feeling well. It may be best if we call it a night.”

“Sure, let me take you home.” He began to lead Lucy away, he turned and looked back at Wyatt, “nice meeting you.”

“Nice meeting you as well.” Although Wyatt was pretty sure they wouldn’t be meeting again.

*****

Wyatt went back to his table and enjoyed a lovely meal with Rufus and Jiya before heading home for the night.

He was slowly shuffling home after maybe one too many glasses of wine when he noticed Lucy huddled on his doorstep.

“Lucy? What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t want to go home and I thought it might be fun to hang out with you. You know, if you want to?” She was suddenly feeling very insecure about this. What if he thought she was stalking him?

“I’d love to hang out with you Lucy!”

“Great!” Lucy got up. “So tomorrow, then?”

“Where are you going?” Wyatt laughed. “You waited for me to come home so you could leave?”

“I thought it might be too late.” She said shyly.

“No, come on in. Let’s watch some TV.”

Lucy smiled. This was not a date but exactly where she wanted to be.

7:21

 Wyatt frowns at his illuminated phone screen, the numbers seeming to mock him.

 “Seriously?” Apparently it’s not just time that’s mocking him right now. “That’s like, the fifth time you’ve looked at your phone.”

 Wyatt scowls. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

 Rufus just shrugs, takes a sip of his beer. “Not hard when you’ve looked five times in as many minutes.” He softens a little. “Relax, man. She’ll be here.”

 Wyatt just sighs, taking a sip of his own drink, resolutely not thinking about the million and one horrible things that could happen to Lucy, because they’re fighting back against a government conspiracy, one that does not take kindly to those who disavow them, especially when that person is “royalty.”

 “Hey.” Rufus clinks the bottom of his bottle against Wyatt’s glass to get his attention. “I know it sucks. You got used to her being there, got used to knowing that if something happened, you were only in the next room. I get it. You remember when Jiya got released from the hospital and I stayed with her for a few days? It was tough to go back home.”

 Rufus is right, of course. Wyatt had definitely gotten used to Lucy staying with him. It was only supposed to be for a few days, initially. In the aftermath of the chaos that ensued with the Mothership being stolen—again—and Lucy’s return to Mason Industries pale and shaking (“My mom is one of them. She’s Rittenhouse.”) Lucy had nowhere to go, couldn’t go back home, and Wyatt hadn’t even hesitated in inviting her to stay.

 She’d only had a couple of days to process everything when they were called in. The Mothership had been located and the three of them were off to chase the mysterious Rittenhouse operative—who they later learned was none other than Emma Whitmore—through time. They’d have a day or two at most back in the present before they were off again, and just like that, a couple of days turned into a couple of weeks turned into a couple of months.

 But now Lucy has her own place, and Wyatt is clearly not hiding his concern very well. “I just…I don’t trust them not to hurt her, ‘royalty’ or not. Especially with that asshole ex-fiancé of hers getting arrested and Lucy cutting off contact with her mother. These are not people who just take ‘no’ for an answer, Rufus.”

 “I know. Like I said, I get it.” And then, slyly, as he takes another drink, “Plus, ya know, you liked living with her.”

 Wyatt glares at his friend across the table. “We weren’t ‘living together,’ Rufus.”

 Rufus leans back in his chair, amused. “Sure, man. If you say so.”

 Downing the last of the whiskey, Wyatt resists the urge to grab his phone and check the time yet again, spinning his now-empty glass around on the tabletop. Maybe Rufus is right about this too. Probably. (He is.) Wyatt sighs. “Am I that transparent?”

 “Yeah, pretty much.”

 “Thanks.” But it’s hard to deny that having Lucy there had been…nice, and not simply because it slightly lessened his anxiety about her safety. The only moment of awkwardness came when, upon walking into the apartment, it occurred to Wyatt the only two places to sleep in his tiny place were either the couch or his bed. But it was dealt with easy enough: they could just take turns, Lucy suggested (Which they did. Except for those first few nights when the shock and stress had Lucy waking from nightmares, fighting against the blankets around her, believing she was back in that car, drowning, panicking, unable to breathe. And he would wake her—You’re safe, it’s ok, I’m here—and she’d press her face against his chest and whisper stay).

 It had become normal, going to and returning from missions together, sitting down to watch a movie together after making dinner (well, after Wyatt made dinner because Lucy’s clumsiness regarding windows and horses also extended to kitchen appliances), making room for all her things…he chuckles.

 “What?” Rufus asks, curiously.

 “She had a few bags, the things she packed when she left her mother’s. One of the suitcases barely had any clothes in it—it was full of books, mostly history and biographies. She had them stacked all over the bedroom.” He smiles fondly. “Had some of her own, too, the ones she wrote. She caught me reading one, once. The one about Lincoln.”

 “Ok, yeah,” Rufus says definitively. “As someone who was you not that long ago, you need to just tell her how you feel. And if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s feeling the same. I mean, she did lie to freakin’ Homeland Security to help you steal a damn time machine. If that’s not—”

 “I know,” Wyatt grits out, as Rufus frowns at the sudden shift in mood. But he wasn’t there, he didn’t see the look on her face… “Lucy didn’t just lie for me. She was willing to go with me, to change history—the thing she’s supposed to protect—to help me get my wife back.” Unable to look at Rufus’ concerned expression, Wyatt drops his gaze to the table, desperately ignoring the gathering tears that burn behind his eyes. “I couldn’t let her risk the deal to get her sister back, not for me. She was worried about me getting kicked off the team, about what could happen, and I…I told her it didn’t matter as long as I got Jess back.” Wyatt shakes his head, clears his throat of the rising emotion as he remembers Lucy’s face falling as her heart broke, her soft oh as she lowered herself to the stairs. “And she cried and I...I just stood there. I just stood there like a jackass, Rufus, and I couldn’t even look at her, because if I did, I’d have gone over to her, and if I held her, I…” He takes a deep breath before finally admitting out loud the truth he’d barely acknowledged to himself. “I think I would have stayed.”

 “Um—”

 When Wyatt finally looks up, feeling like a bit of the weight on his chest has been lifted, it’s to see Rufus looking not at him, but somewhere past Wyatt’s shoulder. “What are you…?” He turns. And freezes. Oh.

 Because standing a few feet behind him, eyes wide and shining in the dim bar lighting, is Lucy.

 “Uh, hey Lucy,” Rufus says with forced nonchalance. “How long have you been standing there?”

 Lucy doesn’t reply, but the look on her face clearly conveys long enough.

 As she slowly walks over to the table, Rufus jumps up so fast he practically tips over his chair in his haste to get away from the tension that’s settled around them. “I’m just gonna go somewhere…not here.”

 Wyatt watches Lucy carefully as she takes the seat nearest his. He wants to explain, apologize, maybe, for his inability to tell her this before now, but all he can get out is her name. “Lucy…”

 Before he can speak, she shakes her head, and, surprising him, reaches out to take his hand. “I couldn’t hug you goodbye,” she says softly. Off his confused look, she explains, “I couldn’t hug you for the same reason you couldn’t look at me.” She looks down at their hands for a long moment before meeting his eyes again. Voice wavering only a little, she whispers, “Because I would’ve asked you to stay. And that would’ve been selfish of me. I couldn’t be the reason you didn’t try.”

 It’s surprise, yes, but also relief, that bubbles up in his chest, because it’s confirmation that these feelings between them are real, that whatever this is, she feels it as deeply as he does. Wyatt laces their fingers together, even as both their hands shake. “Lucy. What I said then, about how nothing else mattered—”

 “You don’t have to—”

 “I do. Because you need to know.” He squeezes her hand, brushes his thumb soothingly across her knuckles the way he should have done that day. “A part of me will always love Jess. But Lucy, I meant what I said about focusing on the present, about being open to possibilities.” He takes a steadying breath. “And I’d like them to be with you.”

 The watery smile she gives him is breathtaking. “Yeah?”

 “Yeah. And also? You could never be selfish, Lucy. What you did was probably the least selfish thing anyone has done for me.”

 Lucy brushes away the few tears that escaped, this time squeezing his hand, and giving a tiny shrug. “You deserve to be happy, Wyatt.”

 He leans in, keeps his eyes steady on hers so that there is no mistaking what he means when he says softly, “I am.” Wyatt isn’t sure how long they sit that way, eyes locked and hands clasped, wearing matching ridiculous grins, though it seems like hours and mere seconds simultaneously.

 That is, until a familiar voice says, “Are you two happening? Is it happening?” and Lucy and Wyatt spring apart, hands falling back to their sides as they look up to find Rufus smirking down at them.

 Wyatt shoots him a glare, while Lucy just shakes her head, huffing out a laugh. “I guess we deserved that.”

 “Yep.” Rufus returns to his previously vacated chair, still entirely too amused by it all. “He holds up his phone, waves it. “Can I tell Jiya it’s happening?” He teases, not quite able to let it go.

 “Shut up,” Wyatt grouses, but there’s no real irritation behind it. The three of them order another round of drinks, and, well, if Lucy moves her chair a little closer to Wyatt’s, and if Wyatt holds her hand beneath the table, and if they sneak shy glances at each other every so often, then no one has to know.

 (Rufus totally knows.)

 Eventually they agree to call it a night, knowing they may be hopping in the Lifeboat and jumping through time soon enough, something best done with at least a few hours of sleep behind them. Lucy took a cab to the bar, so Wyatt offers to drive her back to her place.

 He walks her inside and to her apartment, and though they both know it’s not really necessary, neither are ready to say goodnight quite yet. They stand together outside her door, Lucy fumbling with her keys, but not making a move to unlock the door and go inside. “Goodnight, Wyatt,” she murmurs, though the step she takes moves her closer to him rather than further away.

 “Goodnight. Ma’am,” he replies, voice coming out lower than he intends. He takes a small step forward, as Lucy tilts her head just a fraction.

 Wyatt isn’t sure how long they stand there or who leans in first, but suddenly her lips are on his and she tastes like the white wine she drank, and his head feels fuzzy, his pulse racing. Lucy’s hand cradles his jaw as he curves one hand over her hip, the other tangling in her hair, holding her closer, and his heart is thundering so loud against his ribs he’s sure Lucy can hear it.

 When they eventually part, breathing a little heavier than normal, Lucy finally unlocks her door with the keys she’s somehow still holding on to. Just inside the doorway, she turns to face him. This time, when she straightens the collar of his jacket, she’s beaming.

 She holds out her hand. He takes it. “Stay?”

If she blushes and avoids looking at him after that thought, well, he just doesn’t need to know why.

Wyatt sets their drinks on the table, then holds up his phone as he slides into the booth opposite her. “It’s Rufus.”

Then she hears Rufus’ voice on speaker. “Hey Lucy.”

“Hey Rufus,” she says, frowning at Rufus’ grinning picture on the screen. “Where are you? We were expecting you an hour ago.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Rufus’ tinny voice says. “I was just telling Wyatt that the Lifeboat’s OS is throwing a hissy fit, and I got called in to try to calm it down.”

Lucy chuckles. “You talk about it like it’s a toddler you’re going to put in time out,” she says, then barks a laugh, looking up at Wyatt. “Get it? Time out?”

“That’s funny,” Rufus says carefully, and then, “Hey Wyatt? How much has Lucy had to drink?”

Wyatt’s mouth turns up with amusement and he shakes his head. “She’s fine. She’s having a good time,” he replies, and something deep and warm in his voice makes her flush a little.

Or maybe that’s the booze. Whatever.

Not wanting to draw anymore attention to how much she’s had–she deserves that Around the World cocktail, damn it–she swiftly changes the subject. “Do you want us to come keep you company? We can finish this last round and come over.”

“Nah. There’s literally nothing you can do here, and I’m going to be elbow-deep in code for a while. I’ll just see you tomorrow. You guys aren’t driving, right?”

“No,” Wyatt assures him. “We’re Ubering.”

“Good. Have a beer for me, okay?”

“Will do,” Wyatt says. “See you, buddy.”

“Bye Rufus,” Lucy says, sliding her new cocktail over, having sucked the last one dry.

Wyatt clicks the screen off after Rufus ends the call, then turns the phone over on the tabletop. He eyes her empty glass, then raises his eyebrow at her. “Is it just me, or are you hitting the hooch pretty hard tonight?”

She tries (and completely fails) to look innocent, shrugging with practiced ease. “Not really. Just happy to have a free night.”

He just looks at her calmly, like he’s going to wait her out all night if he has to, and she caves like an overeager spelunker.

“Fine,” she says, shoulders sagging. “My mother has apparently been trying to contact me again. My old phone is basically DHS property now, so Christopher has been giving me updates on the messages, and I know I’m going to have to deal with her eventually, I just don’t know how, and it’s…,” she stops, trying to find the right word. “Well, it’s just a SNAFU, isn’t it?”

His other eyebrow joins the first one, raising in surprise. “Listen to you and your appropriate use of military slang.”

That makes her smile. Just a little bit. “You were bound to rub off on me eventually,” she says, and feels a blush spread from head to toe when she realizes what she’s said.

Wyatt smirks and tilts his head at her, gaze going speculative. “Is that right?”

Still red (which she blames on the cocktails, because she is not usually a blusher), she huffs impatiently. “You know what I mean.”

His head tilts further, and he leans in. “Do I?” he teases, his tone all flirtation this time.

“Yes, you do,” she says, well on her way to flustered, and she pushes him back to his side of the table, managing not to let her hand linger on his chest, despite the urge. “Besides, you’ve had the same number of drinks I have. What’s your excuse?”

“Just trying to keep up with you,” he says, smiling. It lights up his eyes. “Plus, I’m bigger than you and beer has less ABV. Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”

“I’ve noticed,” she says lustily into her drink before she can stop herself.

Wyatt makes a choking noise, and when she looks up it’s clear he’s trying not to laugh, eyes mirthful and lips pressed together. But the tips of his ears are also red, and she finds that oddly delightful.

“I think that’s my cue,” he declares, reaching over and pulling her already mostly-empty glass out of her hands. “I’m cutting you off.”

“But–” she starts.

Getting out of the booth, he reaches a hand out for her. “It’s getting late anyway,” he says.

She sighs, but lets him pull her up. He grabs his leather jacket off the hook on the side of her bench and shrugs it on, then gets hers and holds it up for her. She turns around and tries not to read anything into the way he helps her into it and pulls her hair out from under the collar, fanning it out around her shoulders.

When he’s done, she’s breathless, and he’s barely even touched her.

She turns around to face him and he’s watching her, and things are pleasantly fuzzy but she thinks she can see something like hunger in his eyes. It doesn’t make her feel any less breathless.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

She nods, not trusting her voice, and he leads her out of the pub with a hand low on her back.

It’s quiet outside; the pub is in an older part of town, further away from the clubs that are so busy this time of night, so it’s really just the two of them out there on the dimly lit sidewalk. Wyatt’s got his phone out, probably ordering their Uber, so she lets herself be fascinated by the way her breath clouds in the cold air until he’s finished.

They’re standing quietly and companionably, but the tension from inside the pub followed them outside, and Lucy feels it like a pull in her stomach. It’s not long before she can’t stand the silence anymore.

“I’m sorry about, you know, all the drunken sexual harassment in there,” she says, looking up at him, and takes a deep breath. She can see her breath drift over Wyatt’s chin on her exhale–when did he get so close?

“It’s only harassment if I don’t like it. Did you hear me complain?” he asks, and his voice is low and gruff, and it is doing things to her she’s probably not ready for.

Probably. “Still,” she says, and she can’t help but sneak a look at those full, attractive lips of his anyway. “I should probably limit myself to two drinks from now on. Wouldn’t want to make Rufus uncomfortable.”

“Lucy,” Wyatt murmurs, eyes most definitely not on hers either, “Rufus isn’t here.”

“No,” she replies, and that pulling sensation in her stomach is spreading up, tugging her closer to him with every too-fast beat of her heart. “No, he isn’t.”

She doesn’t feel fireworks when their lips touch. It’s more like what blooming flowers must feel, opening up to air and warmth and the light of a full life. It’s way more dramatic than fireworks somehow, and it’s probably the leftover buzz amplifying her feelings, but Lucy is almost overwhelmed by the immediate rush of awareness, of rightness that comes with Wyatt’s kiss.

And they’ve barely gotten started.

The kiss transforms from tentative to insistent in an instant. Wyatt’s hands are in her hair, and he’s walking her backwards until her back meets a hard surface, and by the rasp against her jacket and the change in light, she’s guessing he’s moved them into one of the slightly more private brick alcoves next to the entrance to the pub, but she doesn’t care enough to look. Not when he’s moving one hand out of her hair and under her jacket to slide over the thin material covering her stomach.

She gasps, and he immediately takes advantage, deepening the kiss. The pressure is right but the angle isn’t quite, so she pushes up on her toes, and then it’s so perfect she whimpers. (She can’t remember the last time she whimpered during a kiss.)

Wanting to feel him too, she finds his sweater and pulls it up until she can get her hands under it and on his skin. His hisses into her mouth, and she feels his abs clench under her fingers, and the reaction makes her temperature skyrocket. She wraps her arms around him, digging her fingers into the taut muscles of his back.

He grunts, and suddenly he’s got one hand bunching her jacket against her back to press her closer, and his other is gliding down over her body to grip her knee and yank it up around his hips. The new position allows him to grind his hips into hers, and he does, hitting a sweet spot that makes her cry out.

He kisses down her neck while she gulps for air, and everything’s fine–everything’s wonderful, in fact–until a noise manages to pierce the bubble of lust that’s enveloped her. Opening her eyes, she looks over Wyatt’s shoulder to find the source.

Finding it, she sighs. “Wyatt, wait,” she says, trying to focus and get his attention, although his nipping at her jaw isn’t helping her do that. “Wyatt, we need to stop.”

To his credit, he stops as soon as her words register. He’s breathing hard when he pulls back. “Sorry, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be doing this when you’re drunk. Or against a wall on the street. Sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t have–”

“No, I just mean–” she points over his shoulder. “I think our Uber is here.”

He freezes at that, and then groans. “Shit,” he says, but he’s laughing, and he drops his forehead to her shoulder.

She cards her fingers through his short hair, and she feels him shiver in response, turn his head to nuzzle her neck, and she really doesn’t want to move, but–

Wyatt’s phone starts to ring in his pocket.

He chuckles and straightens up and away, putting a few inches between them. “Probably the driver.”

She nods. “Probably.”

“Likely trying to tell us he’s here so that we can get going.”

She nods again, smiling. “Very likely.”

He searches her face in the shadows. “Where should I tell them we’re going?”

“I don’t know,” she tells him truthfully. When his face falls, she grabs his hand. “But don’t we make it up as we go anyway?”

A slow grin wipes away the tension on Wyatt’s face. “Aren’t you the one who told me we shouldn’t improvise on the fly?”