I fought a laugh. “No, it’s fine. You go ahead. She’ll need more dust jackets for her dirty books from eBay soon enough.”

“What?”

“They cover their smut with dust jackets from eBay. She makes me buy them classic jackets so they can read it in public.” I almost rolled my eyes. “None of them can use eBay. They can barely dial a number on their phones.”

Isaac snorted and pushed the plate to me. “Go ahead. Really. She’s making me a cheesecake, and I did interrupt your night to come and make sure they went home.”

“It’s not like I was doing anything important,” I replied. “I was just watching Netflix with no bra.”

His gaze dropped to my chest. Where I still was not wearing a bra.

I cleared my throat.

He jerked his attention back up to my eyes. “Take the cake, Hannah.”

“All right. If you insist.” I took the plate and grabbed a clean fork, then dove in to the third of the slice that he’d left. The cake melted in my mouth, the rich chocolatey goodness exploding with flavor. “OhmyGodsogood,” I moaned.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the floor. “Please do not moan like that while you’re not wearing a bra. It’s highly uncomfortable for me.”

I closed my mouth around the fork. Ah. I could understand how that might be problematic for him.

So naturally I did the sensible thing: moaned.

Deliberately.

Loudly.

“Stop it,” he ground out. “You’re doing it deliberately.”

“Me? No.” I grinned and stabbed the fork into the cake again. “I would never.”

He stared at me flatly and swigged his beer. “A couple of days ago, I would have believed that, but you’re feisty tonight.”

“Feisty? How am I feisty?”

Another long stare.

“All right, fine. A little. The oldies rile me up,” I admitted, putting the fork down. “They know better than to go prancing around bars. It’s worse that they lied about it before. It’s like controlling teenagers and stopping them drinking cheap booze in a park.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Been there. The teenager, that is. We used to get people to buy us these big ass bottles of cheap cider that were like two-pounds-fifty for two liters and we’d be hammered by nine p.m. When we were fifteen, my friend’s girlfriend threw up in front of police officers. We had to tell them she was ill.”

“Fifteen? You were out drinking at fifteen?”

“There was nothing else to do.” He shrugged, putting his beer down. “It’s legal to drink at eighteen, don’t forget. It’s like sex. It’s weird here that people are so freaked out about kids having sex at fifteen, but it’s pretty normal back home because the legal age is sixteen.”

“Wow. Does anyone follow the law there?”

“No. The entirety of England is a lawless Anglo-Saxon settlement where we haul our brides off over our shoulders to our caves in the Yorkshire Dales and eat pigs that have been fed the finest artificial grass.”