I smiled wide. “Then it’s settled.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“No. I insist you don’t. But because I know how you are, and you’ll likely bring something anyway, a bottle of wine will do.”

* * *

The rest of that week went off without a hitch. My new sitter, Sharon, showed up on time the following two days, and Sunny seemed to like her almost as much as she liked Deacon. Then I worked from home on Thursday and Friday as planned. Cynthia said she wanted me to come into the office at least two days a week for the first few months, if possible, but she let me choose the days. Sharon seemed amenable to that arrangement, and we decided we’d choose the days based on her availability each week.

Because I worked from home on Friday, I was able to get most of my stuff done early so I could prepare dinner for Deacon. My online grocery order arrived on time, so I got started preparing the food around five. I’d decided to make breaded chicken with a side of risotto, Caesar salad, and roasted Brussels sprouts with cranberries, bacon, and almonds. I ordered a store-bought chocolate cake for dessert. I’d told him to come by at eight thirty, which would hopefully be after Sunny fell sleep.

After slaving away at the stove, I decided to sneak in a shower once I put Sunny down at eight. It was probably the fastest one I’d ever taken because I needed time to get dressed and put some makeup on before Deacon arrived.

As much as I knew this was an innocent, friendly dinner, I couldn’t help the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I was incredibly attracted to Deacon, even if nothing would come of spending time with him. My expectations needed to remain low. We were in two different places in life. He had all of the freedom in the world and seemed to be taking full advantage of that, milking the single life. That’s likely what I would be doing if I were in his shoes.

And he’d flat-out told me that we were “friends.” So the fact that his coming over made me nervous was pretty silly.

I slipped on a gray, fitted sweater dress that landed several inches above my knees and high leather boots. Maybe it was overkill for a night in, but I’d had a really productive week and felt like celebrating in style. I made up my face and had just put the last stroke of mascara on when I heard a knock on the door.

My heart hammered in my chest as I walked to answer it, proof that whatever I tried to tell myself about the platonic nature of our relationship was a crock of shit.

Deacon held a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine.

His eyes moved over me. “Wow. Uh…you look fucking amazing.”

My cheeks felt hot. “Thank you.”

He handed me the flowers. “These are for you.”

I took the multicolored tulips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you didn’t have to make dinner for me, either.”

I smelled the buds. “I keep waiting for you to show me your asshole side, Deacon. But you’re sickeningly sweet sometimes. I definitely had the wrong idea about you early on.”

“Manwhores can still be sweet. Sometimes we even shop for flowers for our friends.” He winked.

Friends. I heard that loud and clear. “Sometimes manwhores even crochet.” I winked back.

“Ouch.” He smiled through gritted teeth. “Remember your promise, Carys.”

My body buzzed with awareness as I took him in. He wore a dark green sweater with jeans and black leather boots. His sleeves were rolled up, and for the first time I got a full look at the tattoo on his left forearm.

“I’ve never really seen your tattoo before. Does it go all the way up your arm?”

He looked down at it. “It’s just the forearm. I got this ink when I first moved to California about eight years ago. It was a work in progress. I kept adding to it.”

The design was a mix of roses, crosses, birds, and other ornate imagery. And now I could read the name written in cursive over his wrist. Kathie.

“Kathie is my grandmother,” he said.

“Ah.” I smiled, feeling strangely relieved that I didn’t have to be jealous of the fictitious woman I’d created. “I’d noticed the word before but could never make it out. I always assumed it was an ex-girlfriend and didn’t want to pry.”

“No. Just Gram.”

“That’s really sweet.”

His cologne wafted over me. Deacon looked hotter than I’d ever seen him. Even if we weren’t dating, I loved the idea of having him all to myself tonight.

Clearing my throat, I said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I think we should eat out in the living room to be as far away from Sunny’s room as possible.”

“Believe me, if there’s one lesson I learned this week, it’s the trouble you can get into when a baby wakes up. Sometimes massive explosions, even.”