“Nothing.” She shrugged, but there was very clearly something. After a prolonged pause, she got to it. “I met Zoey for coffee yesterday. She said something about you stopping by her place. A lot.”

He frowned. “I wouldn’t say a lot. Why?”

Her right brow arched. “She said you’re there every week. I know you two are close, but how close are you?”

Mary didn’t often manage to get under his skin, but annoyance shot through his veins right now.

“Jesus Christ, Mary. Why are you making it sound weird? It’s Zoey.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How did I not know you two were spending so much time together? I know you text all the time, but...”

“Mary, stop. Zoey’s been our friend since grade school. It’s not the way you make it sound. We hang out in the shop while she works on repairs. We drink sometimes. And we talk.” He paused, a sinking feeling in his chest. “Wait...did Zoey say something?”

Had he been reading things all wrong? Was Zoey uncomfortable with his visits? Nah...she was direct enough that she’d have told him if she didn’t want him there. Wouldn’t she?

Mary studied him again for a moment before shaking her head. “She didn’t sound mad about it.” He took a drink order from his cousin Kelly, who was waiting tables tonight. Mary watched him pouring three glasses of Guinness, which took a little time to do properly. “You’ve really never thought about...?”

“Absolutely not.” He set the beers on a tray. That wasn’t true, of course. The thought had crossed his mind a lot lately. He just refused to let it linger.

Zoey was incredible. And available. But...she wasn’t at all like the other women he’d spent time with since Becca. They were casual. Zoey would be anything but casual. She’d be very real, in the same way Becca had been for him. Their connection ran deep. Was his hesitance because he’d loved Becca so much? Was he afraid things might get too real with Zoey? Or even worse, that he might lose her, too? A chill went over him. His heart would never survive that.

His phone chirped in his back pocket. He pulled it out and smiled at the timing. “Speak of the devil, here she is.”

He read her text.

Z: You at the Shamrock tonight? I need a wingman.

M: Bartending all night. Why do you need a wingman?

He figured she was coming to the bar with some of her friends. But if she was with her girlfriends, she didn’t need him as a wingman. A wingman was for picking up dates, and she wasn’t... His phone chirped again.

Z: Guardian angel then. I somehow have a date tonight. Ugh!

What the hell?

M: A date with WHO?

Z: A commercial appliance sales rep—can you believe it?