When he turned to her, his brows lifted in surprise.
She stopped walking.
"Good morning," she said, her voice soft, careful, as though she wasn’t sure what version of him she was about to get.
"Good morning Miss Wilfred," he replied, already straightening the cuff of his shirt. He looked ready, too ready. He was dressed and composed like nothing had happened the night before.
His gaze flicked to her face again. "Aren’t you going to work?"
The question was casual.
She hesitated, then nodded slightly. "I thought I’d take the day off."
That made him pause.
He turned fully to face her now, eyes sharp and assessing. "Because of what happened?"
"Yes," she answered, unsure why she suddenly felt like she was defending herself. "After last night, I figured..."
His expression didn't soften
