I straighten with the box and set it on the case. Lifting my head, I lock onto Mason’s gentle stare.

“What?” I ask.

After a beat, he softly replies. “Nothing.” He leans forward and looks down into the box. “What’s this?”

“Um, it’s,” I shove the box closer to him. “It’s pastries I made. Here. And a cupcake for later. Red velvet. The icing is amazing.”

He studies the contents as if I’ve just offered him the greatest gift in the world. I remember him having this same look when I gave him the treats the other day outside his studio.

Maybe he really likes dessert. Maybe it’s a delicacy over in Australia.

Setting his coffee down, he fits the box between his hands, then lifts his head. His eyes appear darker under the bakery lights. “You never gave me an answer. I need an answer, Brooke.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll go bloody crazy if you don’t give me one.”

“Bloody crazy? Not just regular crazy? I’m picturing a massacre.”

He shrugs. “Say yes and no one gets hurt.”

I laugh, reaching up and pushing my hair behind my ear. “Wow. First stalking, now you’re threatening murder? You better be careful, pretty boy. I’m not so sure how you’d hold up in prison.”

He stares at me. The corner of his mouth lifts. “What are you doing tonight?”

Joey emerges from the back at that exact moment. I’m certain the queen of gossip was listening to every word of this conversation. If it was anyone else, I’d take his timing as purely coincidental.

“She’ll be at The Tavern with a bunch of us after we close up here. It’s a little bar we like to frequent. You should come. I’m sure they carry Fosters.”

I narrow my eyes at Joey as he comes to stand beside me. He gives me his biggest smile.

“Yeah, I don’t drink Fosters, mate. Not a lot of us do.”

“Really?” Joey turns to Mason with a hand to his chin, scratching along his stubble. He looks deeply perplexed. “Well, don’t I feel like the world’s biggest ass.”

Mason grabs his coffee and the bakery box. “No worries. You can buy me a round tonight to make up for that little blunder.” He trains his eyes on me, stepping back. “And you. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Damn it. I try, really, really try not to smile, but he throws on that damn ‘yeah’ at the end of his sentence, and I can’t help it. It’s cute. I like it.

Luckily, I don’t give him the chance to see it.

I duck down behind the counter, looking busy. “Mm. Yeah, all right. See ya,” I call out as I stare at the gray speckled tile on the floor.

The door chimes. Joey crouches down beside me.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispers, searching my face.

“Working.”

He glances around the tiny corner I’m tucked into. “Yeah, okay. What was all that talk about giving him an answer? An answer to what? Did you not tell me something last night?”

I straighten and shove past him, moving into the kitchen. “You are lucky I tell you anything, Joey McDermott.”

Snatching my apron off the hook, I join Dylan at the worktop.

My mind begins cataloging possible outfits for tonight. I’ll definitely be wearing heels, that’s for sure. Mason seems strangely intrigued by our height difference.

Maybe he normally dates taller women?

Oh, my God. Why am I even thinking about what kind of women he dates? That damn kiss has left me stupid.

Joey claims one of the stools, pouting. “Brooke is holding out on us, Dylan. Can you please explain to her that there are no secrets within these walls?”

Dylan keeps her eyes on the frosting she is piping, flatly replying, “Brooke, you know the drill.”

I secure the apron string around my waist, ignoring them both.

Screw that. I don’t need to divulge anything.

Joey slaps the wood, then stands. “Fine. I’ll just go ask Mason myself.”

I grip his forearm. “Heyyy, that’s . . . not necessary. I’m sure he’s busy.” I press against his shoulder until he’s seated again, then I start to pace around the room, suddenly no longer able to stand still. My palms begin to sweat.

Damn it. I’m about to recollect this morning, that goddamn kiss.

“Uh, okay, so, you know everything that happened last night. Nothing new to report there. I was getting our coffees and Mason walked in, looking all . . . whatever. You saw him. He explained to me in a very private alley a few blocks down that he wants more with me. Like talking, and . . . dates, I guess, before all the sex stuff. He wants to know me first. How crazy is that?”

I chuckle awkwardly. Everyone else remains silent.

Crickets. All of a sudden, I’m surrounded by crickets.

I do another lap around the room. “So, that’s basically it. He asked me if I can give him that. More. I didn’t really answer. I mean, I kind of did. Not really. Oh, and he kissed me. On the mouth.”

“As opposed to . . .”

I snap my head up to look at Joey, then drop it into a quick nod. “Right. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”

Dylan sets her piping bag down. “I take it the kiss was good? You seem a bit wound up.”

Good?

No. It was fucking phenomenal.

I limply shrug as I grab two baking racks off the shelf.

I’ve confessed enough sins today. They don’t need to know how wet I got from fifteen seconds of making out.

“I like him,” Joey beams, resting his chin on his hand.

“Me too,” Dylan smiles at me. “Brooke?”

I set the racks on the worktop. My next words come as I keep my head down and my hands busy. “You know what I like? Working. Getting a paycheck. Orgasms are also nice, which I doubt come with liking this guy, so, no. I don’t like him. How many special orders do we have today? Three? We need to get started. I need to get started. And God, I need to eat something before I collapse.”

I shuffle up to the front and murder a cupcake.

Brown sugar praline. It never stands a chance.

I’m the last one to arrive at The Tavern later that night. I decide to blame my lateness on the traffic, not the forty-plus minutes I spend getting ready, or the pacing I do around Billy and Joey’s condo.

“Traffic? What traffic? It’s not rush-hour.”

My sister Juls quickly calls me out on my lie after I explain my tardiness. I pretend I don’t hear her as I slowly sip my Long Island and gage the crowd. Imagine Dragons pumps through the speakers overhead. My foot taps along to the beat.

Ian returns with a few beers for the table. “Two dollar beers. I fucking love college night.”

Reese reaches for his mug, his other arm permanently fixated around Dylan. “Don’t you feel old being here with this crowd? I feel like everyone’s looking at me like I’m a chaperone.” He tugs at the knot in his tie, loosening it.

Joey chuckles. “Uh, no. They’re looking at you ‘cause you’re a DILF.”

Reese frowns. “A what?”

“A DILF.” Dylan rests her head on his shoulder, grinning. “Dad I’d like to fuck.”

“Get the hell out of here,” he mutters, lifting his beer to his mouth.