“Nothing I can’t wait for a little longer.” And he winks. And I die.

He takes his drink and walks away, and I stare at his ass the entire time.

My throat is suddenly impossibly dry. “Next!”

Despite my wish-fulfillment morning, I’m back to thinking about how frustrating the situation is with Jasmine as I put the Sullivan triplets to bed that night. For some reason, I expected her to come walking through the door to the Book and Bean, order a double shot of espresso, and browse the shelves. One of the hardest parts of leaving Asheville for Jasmine must’ve been leaving behind her favorite bookstore, and it’s not like every city in Westchester has one. The Book and Bean should’ve been at the top of her list of places to explore.

She must know I work there.

And these are the lengths she’s going to in order to avoid me.

Not that I wanted her to come in. I mean, yeah, if it were like old times and we could chat about Goldie Vance and play “Judge a Book by Its Cover” (wherein we made up absolutely ridiculous stories about what books were about based on their packaging) and I could squee to her about Clementine Walker. If that were on the table, if we could just freaking be friends—

It hits me like the pudding cup little Ashlyn threw at me after dinner. What if the problem is she thinks I want more than that? What if she thinks I’m after the, uh, not-exactly-friendly stuff we did, and this is her way of letting me down? I mean, yeah, that’s pretty arrogant and ridiculous to assume without talking to me, but Jasmine doesn’t exactly win awards for her communication skills, and in fairness, neither do I.

Tomorrow, I’m going on a date with Chase and word is undoubtedly gonna spread about it. Maybe that’s all we need. Maybe once she knows my heart and libido lie elsewhere, she’ll chill out and we can go back to being friends, minus the benefits.

“Why are you smiling?”

Shit, my brain went off the rails while I was still standing in the triplets’ room, and Chadwick has caught me looking like a goof. Their night-light must’ve been illuminating my face in creeptastic fashion. “Go to sleep,” I say, slipping out the door, but I’m still smiling as I shut it behind me.

Chapter Six