“Interesting,” he says, and I hate the way he says it as though he knows I’m bullshitting. I know I’m bullshitting, but I don’t need him to know.

“Does this not feeling good have anything to do with you meeting Ethan tonight?”

I glare over at him. “No.”

“Liar,” he says, trying not to laugh, and looking at the road while he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Is it?” I ask him. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” He side-eyes me. “Maybe we should just go slow. Like maybe this weekend I can come over for breakfast, and we can see how that goes.” He pulls into the driveway of Casey’s house. “Or we can have cake or something.”

“Baby,” he says, and I hate his tone. Okay, fine, I love when he calls me baby because his tone is soft and filled with love. “I’m not going that long without you.”

“Well, I’m not going to be sleeping at your house with Ethan there. That is just …” I don’t say anything because he pulls me to him. “Jacob.”

“Kallie, you sleep with me,” he says, and I want to push away from him. “We just won’t tell him.”

“So, you want me to sneak into your house?” I ask, shaking my head.

“For now, that is what we have to do,” he says, kissing me.

“No, we can be grown-ups about this and have dinner, and then I can see you tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck no,” he says. “Now kiss me because I have to go to work.”

“Fine, we can table this discussion.” I barely get the words out before his mouth is on mine, and I’m lost in his touch, in his kiss, lost in him. “Be safe.”

“Always.” He kisses me one last time, and I open the door, turning to get out. He grabs my hand one last time. “He’s going to love you.”

“Or hate me for taking you away from him,” I mumble and get out of the car, and he rolls down the window.

“I love you, Kallie,” he says, and I look over my shoulder. “I’ll call you later.”

I turn and walk up the steps toward the front door, ringing it first. I made the mistake of walking in yesterday and found them dry humping each other on the island. “It’s open!” Olivia yells, and I stick my head in. “It’s all clear. Cowboy is not home.”

“Good,” I say, stepping into the entrance and walking to the kitchen where Olivia has set up her office on said island.

“The coffee is fresh.” She smiles at me, and points at the coffeepot on the counter that looks brand new.