Between my sexy stranger and my sexy neighbor, they were gonna need some prayers.

I got into my car and pulled out, following Isaac to the end of the road. He turned left while I turned right, and he honked a goodbye before disappearing.

I wiped the image of him from my mind. Seriously, it was unfair that someone who looked like he’d been chiseled by an Italian sculptor also had the sexiest accent known to man.

There was something so, so wrong about it.

God knows what he was doing living in Bumfuck, USA. He should have been married to a European princess or someone equally as important.

I took a deep breath as I approached Main Street. Immy’s car was already outside the store, and I pulled into the spot behind her. My car only just squeezed in there thanks to the jerk behind taking up about ten spots with what I was sure was either a limo or a Hummer.

Maybe it was just an army tank.

I grabbed my purse from the front seat and went inside. She was arranging the yarn into their correct spaces and pricing some others for the sale basket. I joined her, taking the pricing gun from the side table.

“Morning,” she said brightly. “How was your night?”

I didn’t need to be smart to catch the inflection in her tone. “It was fine. How was yours?”

“Went home, had good sex. You?”

I pursed my lips. “I had a good night’s sleep.”

“Hannah.” She shoved a ball of yarn at me and glared. “What happened with your new friend?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Hadn’t I already been over this a thousand times with my own brain this morning? Did I need to rehash it with her, too?

“Nothing happened.”

“Look me in the eye and say that.”

“Oh, go away.”

She laughed, twirling in a circle. “I knew it!”

“You’re way too invested in the actions of my clitoris,” I told her, pricing the label on the yarn.

“Yeah, I am! Do you know anything about the person?”

“Nope. I intend it to stay that way.”

“Stay that way? Are you going to sext again?”

“What are you, sixteen?”

“I feel like it. This is exciting, Han! Way more exciting than my life.”

“I’ll tell Mason you said that,” I replied, taking another ball of yarn from her. “How much for this one?”

“One-ninety-nine,” Immy responded. “But are you really doing it again?”

I shrugged. “I’ll let you know tomorrow. Is it book club?”

“You’re not changing the subject, Hannah.”

“I think you’ll find I am,” I retorted smartly. “Is it book club tomorrow?”

Immy rolled her eyes, but she gave in. “Yes, it’s book club tomorrow. Are you coming?”

“Depends. Has Grandma found me another date yet?”

“No idea. She watched that episode of Friends where Phoebe’s grandma crosses out the dead people in the Yellow Pages. She’s been doing that for the past three days.”