“If you still want to back out, we can, but I just thought you should know all the facts first.”

“Like the fact that Carol obviously told the entire world already,” she guessed, scanning the texts and missed calls. “How could she spread it this quickly?”

“Asks the woman whose blog went viral overnight.”

Sloane didn’t take kindly to Brady’s well-made point. Especially when she saw the third missed call.

It was from Rizzie Caplan.

“What is it?”

Sloane looked up. She was startled by how close Brady was. The same heat she’d felt the night before started to pulse through her again. Without meaning to, she dropped her gaze to his lips.

When he’d kissed her in the bar, she hadn’t seen it coming. Not one bit.

Would he do it again?

Did she want him to?

Well, she didn’t not want him to.

Bigger fish to fry, Sloane. Bigger fish.

“Earth to Sloane?” Brady’s voice was smooth and deep and just the right tool for the moment.

She sighed and then leveled with the relative stranger standing in her childhood bedroom.

“If anyone finds out I’m lying about you and the blog, I could lose a lot. The risk is too much. At least that’s what I decided. But now? Now we’ve been Caroled. I can’t come clean without looking bad to someone important.”

She groaned and plopped down on the edge of her bed.

Brady kept standing. She met his gaze with nothing but worry currently in her chest.

“Then don’t come clean,” he said simply. “Commit to it instead. Starting with getting ready so I can come back and pick you up in about an hour and a half. Sound good?” He took her hesitation for an answer and grinned. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

Brady turned around and walked out of the room, coffee cup to his lips. Sloane jumped up after him.

“Wait! What for? What did you agree to?”

“Lunch with Carol,” he called over his shoulder. “Which, honestly, sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”

Sloane followed him to the front door, mind racing for an excuse to get them—mainly her—out of the date, but nearly ran into his back as he stopped with his hand on the knob. Brady didn’t at all try to hide his gaze from sweeping—slowly—up and down her body. Maybe she was destined to never not be blushing when the bartender was around. “I’m all for taking down the patriarchy, but I suggest wearing something a bit breezier. I’ve never eaten in a garden before, but it definitely doesn’t sound like a place with air-conditioning.”

Sloane’s mouth turned into a desert. “Garden? As in…?”

“As in the garden at the Robertson estate.” Brady was downright working his grin now. “Looks like our first date is going to be in the belly of the beast.”