Oh my God, he hadn’t. “I might’ve mentioned we were going here, but he’s just—I mean, he’s really . . .” I swallowed hard, struggling to explain what had just happened that didn’t involve me spewing curses everywhere. “He’s overprotective.”

Grady nodded slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

Please, no. “Sure.”

“Have you two ever been involved with one another?”

“What?” I forced out a laugh. “No. We haven’t.” And was that really a lie, because I wasn’t counting what happened last Friday, and me being in love with him for like ten years or so didn’t count.

He looked over his shoulder and then back to me. “Maybe he’s into you.”

I laughed again, but this time it wasn’t forced, because that was just unprecedented ridiculousness.

But was it?

I thought about him wanting to come in that night for a drink. Then all those lattes and the lunches, and he told me I was beautiful, and he wanted to drive me home for Thanksgiving, and I . . .

And then there was what happened between us that Friday night. I didn’t want to think about it, had managed to stop myself all week whenever my thoughts drifted there, but it had happened. Brock hadn’t wanted to pretend like it hadn’t happened. He’d said he hadn’t regret those brief heated and dark moments. Could he—?

My heart started pounding fast, too fast, and I felt dizzy at the mere idea that someone else thought he could be interested. I was so used to everyone telling me he wasn’t.

Grady finished off his wine.

The conversation kind of, well, sucked from that point. It was idle and mindless, and when the check came, he paid for it with a quickness a ninja would be proud of.

Grady walked me to my car, which was parked around the corner, behind a bank. He didn’t hold my hand, but he hugged me goodnight. Not a full body, chest to chest hug that made me feel shivery and wanting. Definitely nowhere near a kiss.

“I’ll call you,” he said, stepping back.

I nodded. “I . . . I had a good time.”

“Me too.” He lingered for a moment, his gaze searching mine and then he turned. “Have a good night, Jillian.”

I stood there for a moment, watching him walk away, and I knew he wasn’t going to call me again.

And I wasn’t going to call him.

Avery was going to be so disappointed.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Not exactly comfortable lingering in dark areas at night for obvious reasons, I immediately locked my car doors and turned on the engine. Then I sent Brock the quickest text message possible.

Meet me at my place. Now.