He rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Evie.” But the words couldn’t erase his blush. “This corner is done. Now, lean here so I can do this side.”

She obeyed in silence, still watching him with a hint of disbelief. Waiting for someone else to rip off the Jacob-costume and jump out at her. But that didn’t happen; of course it didn’t. Because he’d been this way all along.

He just saved it. Like a secret. For those who made him want to share.

The idea that she made Jacob want to share had Eve uncomfortably close to a swoon.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “You’re sweet, you know. Thank you.”

“If you ever call me sweet again, I’ll report you to HR.”

“Who’s HR?”

“I’m HR.”

She grinned, and, judging by the glimpse she caught of his profile as he turned away, so did Jacob.

Then he ruined a perfectly platonic moment by bending over the second corner, this time with Eve standing behind him. Now, she didn’t just assume the action displayed his arse beautifully; she saw. It was a high, tight peach filling the dove-gray trousers he wore today, stretching their seams with its curve as he leaned forward. Eve felt vaguely hypnotized. Her mouth may have hung open. Drool threatened like the promise of rain in May. This did not bode well.

Eve Brown was a generally horny woman; she knew this about herself. She appreciated all kinds of maleness, such as overlong eyelashes or fingers peeling off a beer label or legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. If she tried, she could get going over just about anything. So noticing Jacob in certain ways shouldn’t technically be a cause for concern.

Except she wasn’t simply noticing him. Sometimes his smile drew her eyeballs like fucking gravity, and that was a serious problem. She liked it here at Castell Cottage, liked working hard and feeling semicapable for once, liked acting like a bloody grown-up. She wasn’t going to fuck it up by developing a completely juvenile crush on her boss. Especially not when said boss might also be—kind of—sort of—her friend.

“Are we friends?” she blurted out, just to make sure.

Jacob looked up at her, appearing genuinely startled. Which made sense, since this was kind of a subject change. “Er . . .”

“Sorry, I was just thinking—you know. We get along much better now.”

“Compared to last week, when I was trying to chase you off with rudeness and you were—”

“If you say hitting me with your car one more time, I will eat you.”

“Battering me with a motorized vehicle?”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Yes, Jacob. Since then.”

There was a pause before he answered. “Well. I don’t know. We’re certainly more friendly—but then, that wouldn’t be hard.”

“You know, when I started this conversation, I really thought it was a yes/no question.”

“It is,” he said immediately. “I mean, it would be. It should be. I just . . .” He trailed off, and she noticed that familiar blush creeping up his cheeks.