A week into Operation Save Our Jobs, working with Ryan feels natural—maybe too natural. It’s becoming more difficult to remember why I was so insistent on keeping things professional.

Each morning before we open, we meet at the newly renovated Beans. Whoever arrives first puts in our orders, then we sit at one of the tables and discuss that day’s game plan (while Eddie sneaks glances at us, smiling).

After that, we separate to open our doors and start the day. But our stores are feeling less and less separate—the “wall” of bookcases I put between us is gone (Ryan moved them, and this time, I watched). We’re constantly bumping into each other in the back room, eating lunch together, sharing ideas about how to prove to Xander that we both deserve to stay.

And yet…it’s been a struggle.

Every night, I lie in bed and relive our interactions. The whiff of Ryan’s scent I caught when he reached above me to grab something in the back room; the way his eyes dip down my body when he thinks I’m not looking; the glimpses of his hands, his mouth, his ass. If I’m being honest, my mind wanders like a naughty child to a few specific memories: his body over mine at the beach; his hand touching mine at the library; my foot sliding up his leg at the bar.

And if I’m being really honest, my vibrator has been getting plenty of use as I replay those memories. Over and over again.

Tonight, thankfully, I have something else to focus on: we’re hosting our inaugural Bookstore Date Night. For a fee, couples can rent out the store after closing for a romantic evening.

Tonight’s couple, newlyweds Brigitte and Sam, are celebrating their one-month anniversary. Ryan and I have been setting up all afternoon. We arranged a cozy table for two on the Happy Endings side, and I went back to my apartment earlier to fetch table settings. Ryan picked up the wine and some candles. A delivery guy dropped off the meal Sam ordered, and Ryan plated the food while I lit the candles in time for the couple to arrive.

As they walk inside, Brigitte gasps and jumps into Sam’s arms. There is much embracing and kissing, and Ryan and I fade into the back room.

“So…now what?” I ask. We can’t go far—we’ll need to clean and lock up when they’re done.

“We could go on a walk?” Ryan suggests. “Maybe stop by J.P. Licks?”

“I could go for a scoop,” I say, smiling.

We stroll while we eat. I got a cone with two scoops—salted caramel and cookies and cream—while Ryan got a giant waffle sundae made with an actual waffle. It’s a sticky, warm evening, bikes zipping by, crowds gathered in front of bars and restaurants, couples walking hand in hand.