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Walker cringes. "No fucking way." He looks to me. "He has a certain charm."

"Emma calls him Mr. Look at What a Brooding Bad Boy I Am," I say.

"She's got him pegged," Walker says.

"Yeah. But he's so much more." I tap my toes together. God, the way that shirt stretches over his strong shoulders. The way all his focus and attention is turned toward his work... He's perfect.

"You're gonna make her jealous," Dean teases.

"Brooding isn't my type." Walker shakes his head.

"You have a type?" I ask. Walker isn't exactly... discriminating.

"Breathing," Dean offers.

"And your type?" Walker asks.

"Breathing and hot." Dean chuckles.

I turn my attention to my laptop. I'm up to four chapters. And it's actually coming together. Even if this book never amounts to more than a file on my computer, it feels good working on it.

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"I can't help it I love watching a woman come." Walker's sigh is dreamy. "The groaning. The shaking. The screaming my name—it's fucking poetry."

"They remember your name?" Dean teases.

"Yeah, I know that's never happened to you."

"It's easy. Four letters. Starts with the thing they're begging for."

"D? That's awful."

"Fuck off."

"You first."

Dean turns to me. "Why are you here, Kay?"

"We're going to a concert," I say. "Me, Brendon, and Em."

"Shit." Dean slides off the counter. So he's next to me. Right next to me—there isn't a lot of space behind the counter. "I need to play my part?"

"No. We're picking Emma up on the way." I close my laptop and slide it into my backpack. "But thanks." I'm pretty sure Dean is trying to help. Just in a Dean kind of way.

"Joel's band, right?" Dean asks.

"Dangerous Noise, yeah." I zip my backpack and bring it to the counter. I'm almost ready. It's almost eight. As soon as Brendon finishes, we can go.

And I get a precious few minutes alone in his car before we grab Emma.

God, I've been craving him more and more every day.

There's something about knowing he really sees me, even the ugly parts—it's addicting.

"You know, Joel was asking about you," Dean says.

"What?" I bite my lip to keep from blushing.

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