I shook my head at her over his shoulder, and she gave me crazy eyes.

When he was released from her clutches, Jason handed her the flowers he’d brought, and she gushed, ushering us inside, where Josh waited like an accomplice, holding two beers.

Stuntman Mike bounced off Jason’s shins, and he crouched and petted him.

Kristen leaned over and whispered in my ear. “He does smell like flannel.”

“You promised me you’d behave,” I hissed.

“What? What did I do?” she said, blinking at me with feigned innocence.

Jason stood and took the beer he was offered, shaking Josh’s hand, introducing himself. Jason didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable. Maybe he was used to overzealous, grabby, slightly inappropriate fans?

“Hey,” Kristen whispered, nudging me in the ribs. “I told Josh to ask him if he can spell ‘chlamydia.’ If he can, he’s gonna throw him out.”

I blanched and she practically skipped across the room and hooked her arm in Jason’s. “Let me give you the tour.”

“I’m coming on the tour,” I announced.

“Nope. It’s a one-person tour. We’re all booked up.” She slapped the flowers to my chest. “Put these in water, will you? And, Josh, can you show Sloan to the kitchen, where there’s a potato salad that needs putting together? Thanks.”

Jason looked thoroughly amused at my distress and allowed himself to be led away.

Huffing, I turned to Josh, who was smiling after his insane wife.

“You know there’s no stopping her when she gets an idea,” he said.

“And what idea are we talking about, Josh?”

He took a swig of his beer. “I’m not telling you shit. I have to live with her.”

I stomped to the kitchen to make the damn potato salad. Ten minutes later, as I was moodily squeezing mayo into a bowl and chopping celery, Jason and Kristen reappeared, laughing and chatting like old friends.

Jason sat on one of the leather barstools, sliding his half-empty beer on the counter. I glared at Kristen, then gave Jason a long look, trying to figure out if we were still dating or if he’d decided against it after spending a few minutes alone with my best friend.

“Kristen was just telling me about the time you won Miss Canoga Park,” Jason said. “I didn’t know you’d done beauty pageants. Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

I stopped chopping and looked back and forth between them in disbelief. “This is what was on the tour? The scrapbooks didn’t come out? No sleepover photos of me in headgear?”

Jason’s eyes smiled as he lifted his beer to his lips.

Kristen scoffed dramatically. “Now why would I spoil those?” she said, cocking her head. “I’m saving them for the calendars I’m handing out at Christmas.”

Jason laughed so unexpectedly he had to put a hand under his chin to wipe up beer. I slid my eyes back to Kristen and narrowed them.

“What?” she said. “I showed him the pictures of us at Coachella three years ago.”

I stared at her. Seriously? The Coachella pictures? I was wearing a white macramé bikini with cutoff denim shorts and had flowers in my hair and I looked amazing.

Well, I’ll be damned. She was wingmanning me. Unbelievable.

“I played Coachella last year,” Jason said, still chuckling a little. “I wish you would have gone. I would have seen you from the stage. We could have met sooner.”

I snorted, scooping celery into the bowl. “There are like two hundred thousand people at Coachella. You wouldn’t have noticed me.”

He looked me in the eye. “I would notice you in a crowd of a million.”

He held my gaze and I could feel the weight of Kristen’s stare as she watched the two of us look at each other.

The sliding glass door opened and Josh popped his head inside. “Hey, Jason, want to help me with the grill?”

“Sure,” Jason said, flashing me a smile that said he remembered my prophecy of a grill-side interrogation, and he dutifully followed Josh outside.

“Have fun,” I said after him before he slid the door closed. He gave me a confident two-fingered salute and disappeared into the yard.

Kristen looked at me and mouthed, “Oh my God.”

“I know, right?”

“He is like seriously into you. I think he’s in love with you. I’m not even kidding. It’s all over his face. He’s whipped.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Have you had sex with him yet? Was it amazing? Tell me everything.”

I shook my head. “No, we haven’t had sex. But I slept at his place last night.”

He’d snuggled me so hard. He never let me go once. I actually started smiling down at the potato salad thinking about it.

He’d also put a pillow between us at one point. That made me smile too.

“So third-base stuff, then?” she asked.

“Actually, no. We haven’t done anything other than kissing.”

She looked at me like I had two heads. “You haven’t even touched his penis yet? Why?”

“Lower your voice!” I whispered, shooting a look at the door.

“I swear to God, if there isn’t penis touching in the very near future, this friendship is over. That’s what I want for my birthday gift.”