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I got up, collected his plate and stuck it in the microwave.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and swallowed some soda, looking like he was trying to get the ice crystals from his teeth. “Why don’t we make a deal? While I’m here, I’ll do all the cooking.”

I shrugged, leaning on the counter. “I’d be offended if I wasn’t so fucking practical.”

He laughed and his dimples creased. God, he was a good-looking man. I, on the other hand, looked like a bum.

My guilt response to the attractive male in the house was to make as little effort at looking presentable as humanly possible.

I had no way of controlling what thoughts about Josh ran through my head. That runaway train had already left the station. But I could control what I projected. My clothes were my outward way of saying, “Nope, not interested,” while internally my imagination was naked and disrespecting my relationship with Tyler in every way possible.

My hair was in a sloppy pile on my head and I had dressed like I was about to play a mean game of volleyball. I picked the shirt with the hole in the armpit on purpose.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you for a favor,” Josh said. “Can I use your guest bathroom to take a shower later?”

Josh, naked in my shower. “Sure.”

“I’ve got a date, and I don’t want to have to drive home and back.”

“And do we have Stuntman to thank for this date?” I asked, hoping I sounded adequately unaffected by this news. As I should be. The microwave beeped and I handed him back his plate.

“You were right. He’s a hunting dog,” he mumbled.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” I grinned.

He gave me a sideways smile. “He’s a hunting dog. Are you happy?”

He’d taken Stuntman to the Home Depot on my challenge and he’d come back saying only, “Let me know when you want to do the photo shoot.”

He put an exploratory finger into the center of the lasagna, testing the temperature, and seemed satisfied. He put his finger in his mouth to suck the sauce off it and started eating. I put my own plate in the microwave and leaned back on the counter to wait.

My cell phone pinged.

Sloan: Are you behaving yourself with your cute carpenter?

I grinned mischievously.

Kristen: Nope. He just put a finger in my lasagna.

Sloan: WTH?!

I snorted.

Sloan: Okay, now my eyelid is twitching. Thanks.

Triggering Sloan’s nervous eye twitch was like hitting the bell on a strongman game. I loved it. You’d think after twelve years she’d be desensitized to my sense of humor, but she never failed to get flustered.

Sloan: Remember, you can look but you can’t touch. Unless you break up with Tyler

I narrowed my eyes. She’d love that.

Kristen: Not a chance.

Sloan’s prejudices against my boyfriend boiled down to, “I just don’t see it.”

It wasn’t him and me she couldn’t see. It was him and us.

I guess I kind of got why. I mean, Tyler didn’t ride a motorcycle. He didn’t hunt. Didn’t care for poker. Preferred an expensive glass of wine to whiskey or beer. Liked theater over movies. Brandon and he had very little to discuss the one time they met except for the Marine Corps, and Tyler’s job was so specialized they couldn’t even really connect on that front.