“It’s not that I—” I hastened to add but he cut me off with another arm squeeze and dipped his face close.

“Baby, it’s cool. I’ll show tonight around the same time as I showed last night. Good?”

I nodded.

“Tomorrow, no plans with your girls. Tomorrow night is mine,” he declared.

My belly got warm and gushy and I nodded again.

He grinned and muttered again, “Right.” He dropped his head more, touched his mouth to mine briefly, and murmured, “Shower,” against my lips.

A thrill slid up my spine.

Brock let me go and sauntered out of the room.

I stared at the coffeemaker and smiled when I heard the shower go on in the bathroom.

Then I made coffee.

* * *

An hour and a half later, I was sitting in my car staring at the side of my bakery, my phone in my hand, deliberating.

I had never played games with Brock. Never. Not from the very beginning.

I took one look at him, liked what I saw a whole lot, and the minute he showed interest, I showed it back and never veered from that path.

I did this because, since I saw it and all the times I saw it since, the scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding when Ian asked Toula out and she immediately answered yes, no games, no subterfuge, exposing straight out she was not only interested but the idea of spending time with him excited her, I thought that was the sweetest thing I ever saw.

And I also did this because I was me.

So I was sitting in my car with my phone in my hand thinking that what Brock said was right. What he and I had had been fucked and for three months it fucked with my head.

But seven months ago, when he brought me home after our first date and kissed me in his pickup and that kiss lasted half an hour (this is no joke) and he finally tore his mouth from mine, shoved his face in my neck, and growled, “Fuck,” against my skin with his strong arms tight around me, I knew what we had was real. I also knew that it had started good and it was only going to get better.

Like Toula and Ian knew in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

That had been what Brock was talking about in my kitchen yesterday. That was what he meant when he said I knew the exact second I stopped being someone he was investigating and started being someone who might grow to mean something to him.

And I did know and that was the exact second I knew.

And last night he’d proved that what I felt in that second was no lie.

And playing games hadn’t got me that.

And playing games didn’t bring it back.

I got it and, being only who I was with him, I kept it.