The lantern gave enough light for her to find a short nightgown and pull it on. Zoey stared at herself in the mirror. She pulled her hair up on her head and inspected herself in the lace-trimmed, but simple, cotton nightie. Did she look like a woman who was capable of a perfect kiss? She lifted her chin.

She pursed her lips and turned her hips a little, then dropped her hair and laughed at herself. She had no idea how to be a seductress. But Mike had made her feel desired. Mike. She sat on the edge of the bed, still looking at the mirror, trying to figure out who she was looking at. Mike’s friend? Mike’s...lover? No. He’d backed away from that. He said they should think about things. She dropped her head in her hands.

What did she want? That was easy—she wanted to climb Mike McKinnon like a tree and make love to him all night long. The admission shocked her, but...there it was. The truth. Her dreams were nothing compared to the reality of his hands brushing her skin. Touching her breasts. Kissing her. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, cursing her brain for not giving her a moment’s rest.

She didn’t want to lose her friend. But right now, she wanted him in a whole different way. Could she have both? Her friend and the man? She reached for her phone.

Z: You awake?

M: Go to sleep, Zoey

Z: I can’t stop thinking about that kiss

M: GO TO SLEEP ZOEY

Z: If we kiss that well, imagine what it would be like if we...

There was a long pause. Floating bubbles appeared, then disappeared. She started pacing by her bed. She imagined him doing the same in his room. Finally her phone buzzed.

M: It would be spectacular. But it could also be a colossal mistake

Z: Focus on spectacular

M: GO. TO. SLEEP.

She opened her door quietly, looking down the hall. She wasn’t good at flirting. Never had been. She and Chris had met at the Shamrock, hit it off, got married. No flirtation required. Maybe that had been part of their problem. Neither of them made the effort. She gave herself a mental shake to get her ex out of her head. This was about Mike.

Then she heard it—the squeak of that one floorboard in Dad’s room. The one by the dresser. She heard it again. Mike was pacing the floor right now. As agitated, and possibly as downright horny, as she was. She started tapping on her phone.

Z: Pretend we’re sitting in the shop. I tell you I met a nice guy and I want to have sex with him. As my friend, what would you advise?

M: I’d tell you to be careful

More bubbles floated and she knew he was adding something.