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That gets her attention because she’s always down for whatever bullshit my best friend’s up to. She comes around the island and holds out her hand. “Lemme see.”

I give her the phone and turn to the sink to wash my hands.

Behind me, Goldie goes quiet as she reads.

I glance over my shoulder. She’s staring at the screen, but then her eyes lift to mine.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she blurts, the words running together.

I shut off the water and reach for the dish towel. “What?”

Goldie steps closer and slides my phone into the front pocket of my jeans. Her fingers brush high on my thigh as she pulls her hand away, close enough to my dick to send a quick shot of tingles through me.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

This time she says it slower, and there’s nothing joking about the way she’s looking at me.

I finish drying my hands and turn to face her. “I kind of thought I already was.”

Goldie blinks. “Excuse me?”

“What did you think we were doing?”

“Um, spending time together? Getting to know each other, I guess?”

“You guess?”

Goldie’s mouth opens, then closes again. Her brows pinch together while she studies me. “I don’t know. We never said it.”

I lean back against the counter, trying not to smile.

Goldie points at me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That face.”

“What face?”

“The one that says you think I’m ridiculous.”

“I don’t think you’re ridiculous.”

Her eyebrows climb, and she folds her arms across her chest like she’s waiting for me to try that again.

I bite back a smile. “I think this conversation is a little ridiculous.”

“See?” She throws one hand out toward me before planting it back on her hip.

I laugh, which earns me a glare that would work better if the corner of her mouth wasn’t twitching.

“We sleep together,” she says, ticking the points off on her fingers. “We have sex. You come over all the time. None of that automatically gives you a title.”

I scoff, but she goes on. “Outside of the sex, it’s basically the same thing you have with Colston, and you’re not his boyfriend.”

“Colston’s straight.” I hook the dish towel over the oven handle and turn fully toward her. “And I come home to you every night. Not him.”

Her hands slowly lower. For a second, she just stands there staring at me with her lips parted like she wants to argue but can’t.