Chased by Piper Lawson

pounding like I’m hungover but I haven’t had a drop to drink.
    Ash isn’t beside me. I vaguely remember her leaving but I’m in a bad fucking mood.
    I pull on a t-shirt and jeans, skip my morning routine altogether. At the top of the stairs I smell something baking.
    At the bottom, I see her.
    Ariel’s bent over the oven. She’s not dressed to run. Instead she’s wearing a short denim skirt and a white tank, and bare feet. I see the way the fabric stretches over her ass when she bends over. It reminds me of the way she looked last night. Disturbingly alive, and fresh, and fucking ripe .
    “It’s late. What are you doing here?” I ask roughly.
    Ariel looks up, raising a brow and standing. She crosses her arms across her chest and leans a hip against the counter. “Is that any way to treat someone making you presents?” she teases.
    I cross to the oven, peering inside when she tugs the door open. Fuck, it smells good.
    “Cake?”
    “Not just any cake. It’s chocolate zucchini cake!” Her voice rings with pride and her eyes light up. “It’s practically a vegetable, Chase,” she explains.
    “You made that for me.”
    “Yup.”
    “Huh.”
    She’s killing me and she doesn’t even know it. Standing here in my kitchen, making me food she thinks I’ll eat.
    “What happened with Ash? She stormed out. Seemed pretty upset.”
    “Ash and I are done,” I mutter. She’d come home, all over me, but I had zero interest. Couldn’t even get it up. Ash had hurled some accusations at me, all of which were completely true. That I wasn’t into her. That I didn’t want to date. Plus one more I wasn’t ready to cop to. “Did she say anything to you?”
    “Not really. Just something about you being a bust.”
    “Yeah.” I scrub a hand through my hair. “Where’s Amos?”
    When we’d gotten home last night Amos’ bike had been parked outside. I’d resisted the urge to run it over. He and Ariel were laughing on the couch when I walked in. Ash had practically dragged me upstairs and I’d gone with her.
    She shoots me a look. “Probably at home. He left last night.”
    “Good.” My chest loosens but only briefly.
    “He’s sweet.”
    “He’s not looking to be sweet to you, Ariel.”
    She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you saying he’s a bad guy, or are you just being overprotective?”
    I’m getting exasperated. “Amos isn’t a bad guy, it’s just... Fuck .” This girl’s supposed to be untouchable. The last couple days, I’d been able to think of her more like a sister. But she showed up last night in the last place I have to get away from her, then let Amos drive her home. Now here she is, sexy as hell with her hair loose around her shoulders and completely oblivious to the fact that I can’t take my eyes off her. My chest actually aches just looking at her.
    Which is why I’m now looking at the floor and trying to get a fucking grip.
    “What the hell is that?” I ask, my eyes stopping on her ankle.
    “What?” She whirls around, eyes on the linoleum. “Do you have mice in here?”
    “There.” I bend over and grab her heel, tugging it up toward her ass. She fights to keep my balance and compromises by leaning on the counter.
    “Ow! What the heck, Chase?”
    My finger’s tracing a pattern just below her anklebone.
    “You have a tattoo,” I say accusingly. The charcoal gray, feathered angel’s wing is shorter than my thumb. Subtle and perfect. Like Ariel.
    “Yeah,” she says like I’m a moron. “I have one on the other side too. They don’t show under socks. It’s my running mantra. You know, flutter flutter .”
    I drop her heel.
    “Any others I should know about?” I’m angry, though I have no right. It feels like this sweet girl I’d been telling myself to stay the hell away from, the one who’d lost her mother and didn’t deserve a fuck-up like me anywhere near her, had been hiding these from me.
    “That you should know about? No.” Her eyes spark.