She’d texted him twice. Simple, friendly messages. One was a photo of a guy roller-skating in jeggings, and she’d captioned it: Saw this guy on Seventh Avenue. New fashion trend? Then, she’d snapped a shot of a woman in the Times Square subway station who’d painted herself gold and moved robotically for tips. Only, she was snoozing on a bench. Sleeping on the job, Casey had written.

Innocuous messages. Harmless notes. The kind of texts she’d occasionally sent him before they’d started sleeping together. He hadn’t received a text like this since they were truly just friends. She had switched gears so efficiently, from the sweet, sexy, romantic, open, vulnerable and utterly passionate woman to his witty, funny, firecracker of a friend. He’d responded to both notes in kind, replying with Who knew jeggings were all the rage? And It must be tiring to move in slow motion.

He scratched his head as Indiana Jones found a new patch of grass to sniff. This was Nate’s one moment of relaxation in the last few days—taking his sister’s dog for a walk as she pushed her girls in a stroller. Cara had conked out for a late afternoon nap, and Chloe was clapping and shouting doggie at every pooch they passed. Girl after his own canine-loving heart.

“So then Chloe wound up spilling all of it on the floor for Indiana Jones,” Kat said with a laugh, then left a pregnant pause.

He raised his chin and stared quizzically at his sister. Shit. She’d just delivered a punch-line to a story and he hadn’t a clue what she’d been talking about. “That’s funny,” he said, trying to recover from his fumble.

She slugged him on the arm, then brought her hands back to the stroller. “You weren’t listening.”

“I was too listening,” he said quickly, reeling off a white lie.

She shook her head at him. “Oh yeah? What did Chloe spill?”

He had no idea. “Milk?” he asked, taking a stab in the dark.

“Busted. It was spaghetti. She thought it was hilarious that the dog was trying to get her food from the high chair.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. You caught me. I was drifting off.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d be worried that I’m boring,” she said as she wheeled past a pack of teenage boys tossing a Frisbee across the lawn. “But yet, I do know you, and I’m pretty sure I also know what’s causing your astronomical levels of distraction.”

“What’s causing it?”

“Casey,” Kat said in a matter-of-fact tone, shooting him a pointed look, one that said I’m right and you know it.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “You’re in that guy state. That moody, irritable guy state that only comes from trouble with a woman. Which tells me you messed up with her.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Not true. Not true in the least, and why would you say that?”

She nudged him with her elbow as they walked around a curve in the path, heading towards the 5th Avenue side of the park. “I made an educated guess.”