“No. I was just reading,” I told him, glancing at the Kindle on the couch next to me. The screen had long since faded out and Rhage currently had one paw resting on the black edge as if he were daring me to try to pick it up.

“So, I’m going to be home this Saturday,” he said, and I couldn’t help think that even Brock would’ve asked what I was reading. The moment that thought popped into my head, I wanted to smack myself with the Kindle. “And I was hoping you’d be free and we could finally catch that dinner.”

“Really?” Surprised, I winced.

Grady laughed. “Yeah. You sound shocked. Did you think I wasn’t going to keep my promise?”

Yeah, I really hadn’t thought he would. He hadn’t texted since last Wednesday, and that had just been a generic “hey, how you doing” kind of thing. “I just thought that maybe you were just really busy.”

“I am, but I’ll be free Saturday night. So what do you think?”

An acidic taste coated the inside of my mouth—the same mouth that had been locked on Brock’s a little over twenty-four hours ago. Going out with Grady afterward seemed gross and wrong, like I should—

Wait.

Wait a freaking second.

I was not dating Brock. There was nothing between us, and it wasn’t like he had professed any sort of feelings for me. What had happened between us was . . . was a mistake. He’d known how I felt about him back when we were younger and that hadn’t stopped him from being the Academy bicycle.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with going out with Grady. Nothing at all, and actually, it was probably the best thing I could do.

So, I took a deep breath and said, “I would love to go out with you on Saturday.”

* * *

Come Monday morning, I did my best to act as normal as humanly possible when I saw Brock, having decided I wouldn’t think about it for one more second. We were grown adults—two sexually active, grown adults. Okay. I wasn’t really sexually active, but I was sure he was. Either way, we were adults. These things sometimes happened, and it had nothing to do with our past or even our present.

Brock was my friend and he was also my boss.

I could handle this and not make a big deal out of it.

When he strode in, bringing my pumpkin spice latte, all I could think about was how his hand had felt against me, and I could feel my face burn like the seven circles of hell.

His lips twitched as he placed the cup on my desk. “Good morning, Jillian.”