We all did.

* * *

I owe Ophelia.

Standing in the open doorway, I stared at Mac. Her simple dress looked almost like a black T-shirt, but it was tight, clinging to her curves and stomach. I scanned down her body to her bare legs and Converse sneakers, back up, and then down again.

And then I closed the distance, backing Mac into a wall so I could take her mouth.

If there wasn’t a time constraint, I’d be taking a fuck lot more than that.

Even then, I was tempted.

“Like the dress,” I murmured, my lips still close enough to brush hers.

“So I noticed.” She dipped her chin down. “For me?”

“Always. Any damn time you want it.”

“The flowers,” she said through a soft laugh.

No bullshit, I’d completely forgotten I held the bundle that was smashed between us.

I stepped back and handed them over, just as one of the pink ones fell to the ground.

“I hope that’s not an omen of how the night is going to go,” Mac said, going to the kitchen to place the survivors into a large cup.

“It is.” At her wide eyes, I explained, “My head will definitely be going down by the end of the night.”

She laughed, but she did it with flushed cheeks and bedroom eyes.

Fuck-me eyes.

“Thanks for the outfit,” she said.

“Don’t gotta thank me. Heads-up, though, Ophelia wants to go shopping tomorrow.”

“What?” Her head shot up. “With you?”

I bit back a smile. “No. You.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. Might have something to do with you being sweet and funny and fun to be around.”

“No, that’s not it,” she said firmly as she shook her head—and not in a joking way. “Did you ask her to do this? Because it’s really not necess—”

“I didn’t.” At her skeptical look, I put my hand up. “Swear it. She said she had fun hanging out on Tuesday and asked for your number so she could invite you. Told her I’d pass along hers instead.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she messed with the flowers. I’d already smashed them, and they were in a plastic cup, but she fussed like they were a wedding bouquet. Not taking her eyes off them, she whispered, “I’m not a good friend, Ward.”

“Why do you say that?”

She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “It’s the truth.”

I moved to her, cupping her cheeks and forcing her head back to meet my eyes. “It’s not. Promise you that. But if you don’t feel comfortable hanging with O, I’ll let her know you’re busy. No harm.”

“No, I’ll… I’ll think about it.” She stepped away to pull on a leather jacket I’d never seen her wear. One that looked new.

One that gave me a new kink.

Mac.

On my bike.