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He flashes me a cheeky smile. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Shaking my head at his audacity, I shovel another spoonful into my mouth and try to refocus on the game, although it’s hard when his stupid grin lingers in my peripheral vision. Our characters are stalking through the gloomy forest in search of a legendary weapon, the Staff of the Storm Witch, which supposedly grants its wielder the power to control the weather. Jamie’s warrior leads the way while my mage follows close behind.

“Watch out for that—” I try to warn him, but it’s already too late.

A giant spider drops from the canopy like something out of a nightmare, landing square on top of Jamie’s character and flattening him to the ground in an undignified heap.

“Shit, I’ve been pancaked by Shelob’s uglier cousin!” Jamie mashes his keyboard. “Little help here?”

“Relax.” I cast a fire spell, and the spider explodes in a satisfying burst of embers and ash. “What would you do without me?”

He shoots me a sideways glance, his lips curving in a way that spells trouble. “I don’t know. We make a good team, you and me. On the battlefield and in the bedroom.”

“Oh God! Just stop. Else the next time a spider flattens you, you’re on your own.”

“Understood. I promise to make no further references to how I had you moaning in ecstasy a few days back, our limbs tangled together. Nope, that topic is completely off limits. Although . . . did I mention on Sunday that your tits are fantastic? I mean, they’re not the biggest, but they felt really delightful in my hands and⁠—”

“Jamie!” I grab a cushion and wallop him square in the face. “You’re such a tosser! I cannot believe you just said that.”

He takes the hit like a champ, laughing as he rubs his jaw. “What? It was a compliment!”

“Do you want me to hit you again?” I hold the cushion aloft to prove I’m not bluffing.

“Er . . . no? All right, no more chat about your itty bitty titties, then. Although, just so we’re clear, I like them. A lot. They’re really pretty amazing.”

“Wow. Okay, since we’re sharing unsolicited opinions, maybe I’ll start listing your best features. Starting with . . . er . . . give me a minute . . . nope, I’ve got nothing.”

“Ouch!” He chuckles. “You know, SassyLassie always had the best banter. It’s fun getting to chat to you like this in real life.”

“You do realise I’m literally asking you not to talk about this stuff with me, don’t you? Besides, it’s not like I’m giving you feedback on your cock.”

“True. Although, if you were to . . . a number out of ten?”

That gets him another whack of the cushion. Again, right on the noggin. This time, he blinks quite a few times afterwards. He still laughs it off, but I wonder if it was maybe a tad too hard—and, annoyingly, that makes me feel a bit guilty. Still, it doesn’t stop me from saying, “Seven.”

The number lands with just the right amount of sting, and his head jerks back like I’ve hit him a third time. It’s high enough to seem genuine and yet low enough to chip away at his fragile male ego. Is that really mean of me? Nah, it’s about time I put him in his place. Anyway, I’m not so crass as to actually rate a guy’s penis. (Although, if I had to, I’d definitely give Jamie a higher score than seven.)

Jamie tries to brush off my judgement with a smile—a thin, strained thing—but I can tell it hits a nerve. Still, at least he’s not offering to whip it out and give me an opportunity to re-evaluate it. I wouldn’t have put that past him.

“All right, fine,” I say. “Maybe a seven point five.”

This sympathy half point does nothing to improve his mood. If anything, it makes him look more affronted.

“Anyway . . .” I say. “Seeing as you raised the subject of . . . well, that part of your anatomy, can I ask you a serious question?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to ask me a serious question about my dick?”

“Kind of, aye.”

“Er . . . okay?”

I really shouldn’t be this entertained by how adorably confused—and perhaps a little panicked—he looks right now. But apparently I’m deeply flawed. Besides, there is something I want to get off my chest, and it’s been bothering me for ages. Two years, in fact.

“At Emily and Ally’s engagement party, I asked you to dance with me, and you said no.”

Jamie’s brows lift in mild surprise. “Oh. Aye . . . I did.”

“But,” I say, gearing up like I’m about to deliver a courtroom coup de grâce, “when we were driving back from the distillery?” I pause for effect then point at his crotch. “Boner.”