“Wow.”

“Anyways, things are better—calmer—when he and Lara are on the outs.”

She was quiet as they walked down the hall together, his shoulder brushing up against her hair. When they got to their opposing doors, Cat turned slowly to look up at him and he knew what she was going to ask before she even said a word.

He could see it in her big, lovely eyes.

“You think if they’re really broken up, there’s any way you could introduce me and him? I mean, we’ve already met, but is there a way that you could get us to hang out together or something?”

Shit.

This was, literally, exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. But there she was, looking up at him with those maple-syrup eyes swimming with hope, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and he just couldn’t say no.

“Ah. Sure. Maybe. Yeah. I guess I could do that. But I can’t promise to make it romantic or anything. Jared isn’t exactly a romantic guy.”

Once again, she brightened like a lamp had flicked on. And then she was up on her toes, one hand on his arm and her lips at his cheek. “Oh, man, Quentin, you’re the absolute best. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She dropped back down and threw her hands in the air, letting out a little squeak of delight.

He laughed a little, even though there was a pit in his gut that seemed to be getting wider and wider with each passing second.

“Maybe sometime this week?” she asked. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. I could just come over and hang out when he’ll be there too?”

“Sure.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll come knock on your door.”

She unlocked her door and then backed up into her apartment, her solemn eyes on his and one finger twirling into a point. “Seriously, Quentin. The best.”

And then her door closed and he was alone in the hallway.

Chapter Four

CAT PROPPED THE laundry room door open with her hip and attempted to heave her thousand-pound laundry basket onto the nearest counter. Alas, gravity won that particular battle and she found herself tipping sideways, almost ass over applecart.

“I gotcha,” said a deep voice to her left, and then the heavy load in Cat’s arms was suddenly gone and she was free to catch herself against the counter.

“Thanks, Quentin!” she chirped once she saw who it was. “That was a close one.”

“You almost met your maker.” He set her laundry basket down and slid over a few feet to where he was folding his whites.

“I never understood that phrase. I’m like, I know my own mother. I’ve already met my maker.”

He laughed. “I think people are referring to God when they say that.”

“Ohhhhh. I get it! They’re talking about the cosmic maker.” She made her voice deep and swirled her hands around in the air.

“So, in your mind God sounds like the genie from Aladdin when he does the ‘phenomenal cosmic power’ bit?”