The crying caught me by surprise. It never occurred to me she might be

that upset about breaking up with Tyler. I just thought—

Stupid.

Of course she was upset. I don’t even know why I’d been confused about this. She’d dated him for two fucking years. He was supposed to move in with her, for God’s sake, and he’d reenlisted without talking to her and broke up with her in a damn voicemail.

Shit, no wonder she didn’t want anything serious with me. She was probably so messed up over Tyler she couldn’t even think straight. I was probably just some rebound thing for her.

Shawn was right. I was a dick in a jar.

I felt like an asshole, asking her to be exclusive. I’d thought we’d had something, for a moment. That maybe she was into me too. But now I felt like I’d imagined the whole thing. Misinterpreted every signal. I should have listened to what she was saying instead of trying to grasp at things that didn’t exist. She told me before any of this happened that I needed to be able to handle a sex-only situation, and this was clearly why.

And then I showed up here, the day after Tyler was supposed to come home, when it was probably really starting to hit her and she was trying to cry about it to her best friend.

I should just give her space. I should leave.

“I’m gonna go,” I said to Brandon, putting down Stuntman Mike.

I didn’t intend to intrude on her night. I didn’t know she was at Brandon’s until I pulled up and saw her car in the driveway. And if I was being honest, after seeing her with makeup on and her hair done when I’d gone to her house, I was relieved to know that her plans had been with Sloan and not some other guy. Especially after everything Shawn said.

But that wasn’t the only reason I was happy to see she was here—I was just happy to fucking see her.

I’d thought about her the whole time I was at work, and then when I finally came back over, it was such a disappointment.

Before, I could sit with her on the couch and bullshit with her. And now, I guess I needed a reason just to hang out with her in the living room. Now we had rules and everything felt stiff.

For a brief moment I wished we’d never hooked up. That we’d stayed friends until she was over this joker, and then maybe I would’ve had a shot with her, free and clear. Because right now I felt like I’d lost that thing between us, that easy friendship that was there before we crossed that line. Sure, I’d gotten sex out of it, but I wasn’t sure it was worth the trade-off. Not like this.

Sloan came around the corner into the living room. She looked weary. “Babe, the handle to the toilet broke off.” She put a metal piece in Brandon’s hand.

“I’ll fix it as soon as Kristen comes out,” he said.

Sloan looked over at me as I pulled my keys from my pocket. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna head out.”

She glanced back at the bathroom and then looked at me full on. “Josh,

stay.” She spoke low. “Stay for dinner.”

Something in her eyes implored me. I looked back and forth between her and Brandon. He had no fucking idea what was going on. He was as lost as I was. He looked at his fiancée like he might be able to glean the information from the side of her face.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Very sure,” she whispered, shooting a look back at the bathroom.

Maybe I was a distraction? Maybe Sloan felt like I could get Kristen’s mind off Tyler? I had no illusions that Sloan didn’t know we’d hooked up. Kristen would definitely have told her. So Sloan knew what she was asking.

I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be wherever Kristen was. And if Sloan thought it was okay that I stay, that’s what I was going to do.

I stayed.

Brandon and I headed back to the garage. He had a few projects I could help him with, and the house felt like it was zoned for the women at the moment.

“What do you think that was about?” Brandon asked as soon as we were alone.

He was talking about Sloan’s intervention, not Kristen’s crying. Given Kristen’s recent breakup, the crying was understandable.

I sat on a stool at the workbench and shrugged. “I think she’s fucked up about Tyler and Sloan thinks I’ll get her mind off it.”

His brow furrowed and he reached for his beer. He held it in his lap and tapped it absently with his pinky. “I don’t know. I’m a little surprised Kristen’s having this reaction to it, if I’m being honest. I’ve never seen her like that. Not even when her grandmother died. She’s pretty tough.” He pulled on his beer, looking as perplexed as I felt.

We sat there, both of us looking confused, like we’d stumbled into some sort of foreign female territory.

Usually if I walked into a crying-woman situation that I wasn’t directly the cause of, I’d back away slowly and let the ladies work it out among themselves. But it bothered me that she was hurting. I wished she would talk to me.

Fuck, she used to talk to me.

Brandon looked at me. “What happened when you went over there today?”

I shook my head. “She was the same. Kind of cold. Kicked me out. Said she was on her period so we couldn’t have sex.”

“Do you think it was an excuse?” he asked.

“No. I believed her.” If Kristen didn’t want to have sex, I had no doubt in my mind that she’d just come out and say it. I didn’t think the period thing was made up, especially because she’d offered me alternatives. But that was twice in a month.

Maybe she had issues with her periods. My sister Laura did too, and she used the same heavy-duty stuff Kristen did.

Brandon set his beer down and went back to looking at the busted

kitchen cabinet door he was working on. “Help me with this thing. I’m going to try to fix the hinge.”

He had an impressive workbench with neon Corona beer signs hanging over it. Two large, red, rolling tool chests sat against the wall next to cabinets he’d built himself for all his power tools. It was a good thing he was properly equipped, because the house he’d bought with Sloan needed work.

We fiddled with projects for a half an hour. I kept looking at the door that led into the house. I knew Kristen was on the other side, making dinner with Sloan. I could feel her.

On an impulse I got up. “I’ll be right back.”

I walked in to the smell of garlic and basil and found Kristen sitting at the kitchen table with Stuntman Mike. Sloan stood over a steaming pot. The girls both froze immediately.

Kristen and I stared at each other for a moment. “Can we talk for a second?” I asked, nodding to the living room.

Sloan shot her a glance.

Kristen stood, setting down her dog. “Sure.”

I followed her into the living room and she turned to me, her arms crossed. “What?”

“Well,” I said, crossing my arms too. “You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together in the next few weeks with the wedding and everything. I think we should talk about the elephant in the room—you following me over here.”

I got her. Her lips twisted into a reluctant smile.

Her eyes were puffy. Red. She looked sad and beaten. I wanted to pull her into my chest and hold her, tell her Tyler was a fucking dick for leaving her. The urge was so intense I had to clench my fists to keep myself from reaching out. But I sensed she wouldn’t let me if I tried. I didn’t like the helpless feeling it gave me.

I realized, looking at her, that as much as it fucking sucked that all I was to her at the moment was a booty call, I’d take whatever she was willing to give me. If she wanted nothing but a friend with benefits right now, that’s what I’d be for her, because the way I felt about her wouldn’t let me refuse any chance at getting closer to her.

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know you were going to be over here. I

wasn’t trying to crowd you,” I said a little more seriously.

“I know.” She looked away from me, her smile falling a bit. “Josh, I’m not sure us hooking up again is a good idea.” Her eyes flicked back to me.

Shit.

I could respect her wishes if she wanted to back out for her own reasons. But if she thought she was sparing me any grief while she got over Tyler, I needed to set her straight.

“Do I get any say?” I asked, tipping my head a little to catch her eyes. “You don’t want anything committed right now. I get that. Let’s just keep things casual. We like hanging out with each other. The sex is good. Let’s not overthink it.”

She looked up at me. “And you would be okay knowing that it’s never

going to lead to anything else?”

Why she felt the need to slap the word “never” onto it was a little much. She’d get over Tyler at some point. But it made sense that she didn’t want to put a time stamp on it. And I had the feeling if I even alluded to the possibility of us one day being more, she would bail. For now at least, yes, I was fine with the current arrangement. I could wait it out.

“My expectations are managed,” I said. “And you’re going to see other people.”

She said it more as a statement than a question. Like she was confirming that I was aware this was an expectation of hers and I had to agree to comply.

“If I feel like it, yes.” I wouldn’t feel like it.

“And I will see other people. So you understand that.”

This was harder. But I reasoned she would see other people whether her and I were hooking up or not, so it didn’t change my decision. And part of me thought that if I stuck around, she wouldn’t date anyone else. She’d enjoyed the sex as much as I had—that was pretty fucking obvious. I’d just have to meet all her needs, a duty I was more than willing to fulfill.

“You’re single. I’d expect you to date other people too,” I said.

She studied my face for a moment, like she was searching for a reason to say no. She must not have found one.

“Okay. If you think you can handle it,” she said.

Neither of us moved. We watched each other. One of our comfortable silences.

My eyes openly roamed her beautiful face. Her thick lashes, dark hair that just grazed her delicate shoulders, a long, graceful neck. Full lips.

I wished I could kiss her.

And the funny thing was she was staring at my mouth too. But her expression was pained. Like just looking at me hurt.

Damn, Tyler fucked her up. I hated that fucking guy. Sloan called out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

Kristen turned without another word. I followed her in the soft flurry of her tart-apple perfume and took the chair next to her at the table.

Stuntman Mike plopped on the floor between us. I leaned over, petting his head, and whispered to Kristen. “I hear this place has great food. Why don’t we eat here more often?”

If I was here to cheer her up, I was going to do just that.

Her face softened. “It’s hard to get a reservation,” she whispered. She glanced at my lips again before her eyes came up to meet mine.

“I know a guy,” I said. “Although I heard they had to close for a few days after the place got vandalized a couple weeks back.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

I nodded and looked over at Sloan before continuing, my voice low. “The worst TP’ing Canoga Park has ever seen. No leads. Probably an inside job.”

She smiled, and I saw her mood lift before my eyes.

Brandon came in from the direction of the bedroom and sat down, sliding something across to me. “Look what I got.”

Sloan moaned, setting a Caesar salad in the middle of the table. “Oh God. Not that thing.”

“What is it?” Kristen asked, eyeing the circular wooden box. “It’s a turkey pot call,” Brandon said, scooting in his chair.

“Yeah, and he’s been practicing with it for weeks. In the house,” Sloan said, putting a bowl of pasta on the table and sitting down. “Gobbling, all day long.”

Brandon gave his fiancée an amused look. “Hey, if I don’t practice, I’m never going to get better.”

Sloan smiled. “Uh-huh. But in the living room though? When I’m painting?” She passed the French bread. “He’s usually so quiet.”

“He’s right,” I said, picking it up to get a better look. “He needs to

practice. It takes skill.”

It was a nice pot call. Wood with a turkey feather carved into the round lid and a matching cedar wand to make the scratch noise. The kind of thing you pass down to your son one day.

I nodded in approval. “Nice. You know, there are turkey-calling competitions,” I said to Sloan. “People compete on a national level.”

“Really? It’s that hard?” Sloan asked, serving herself pasta.

“Oh yeah.” I took off the lid and ran a finger on the black scratch surface. “There are tons of different sounds they make. The kee kee run, the spit and drum, yelps, purrs, cackles, clucks. You have to practice or you won’t get any birds out there.”

Sloan grinned at Brandon. “Well, he does keep my cooking blog pretty busy. I guess I’ll have to just put up with him.”

Brandon picked up her hand and kissed it, and both Kristen and I smiled.

Kristen turned to me. “Do you know how to use it?” Her question was a white flag. She was making an effort to talk to me.

Brandon picked up his beer and tipped it at me. “Josh is actually great at that. That’s why he always bags a bird.”

He was wingmanning me for Kristen. I just hoped she found dead turkeys sexy.

Kristen smiled at me. A genuine smile. “Have you hunted all your life?” “Yup.” I put the lid on the pot call and handed it back to Brandon.

Kristen poked at her salad. Then she looked back up at me, her eyes innocent. “Is it true that ‘vegetarian’ is a Native American word for ‘bad hunter’?”

Brandon laughed so suddenly he choked. I smiled at her, happy to see her coming back to her old self.

“You know, I still don’t have a car,” Sloan said over her pasta after Brandon stopped laughing. “You two broke my Corolla.”

Kristen snorted. “Really? You’re going to put this on us? The hamster probably died.”

“What hamster?” Sloan looked confused.

Kristen skewered a crouton. “The one running in the wheel under the hood.”

Brandon and I laughed, and Sloan pressed her lips into a line, trying to look angry, but she couldn’t keep a straight face.

“How can you let her drive that thing?” I shook my head at Brandon.

“I told her, I don’t know how many times, that I’ll buy her a new car,” Brandon said, still chuckling.

Sloan shrugged. “I don’t want a new car. That was the car I learned to drive in. I had my first kiss in that car.”

Brandon gave her a mock serious look. “Well, then it definitely has to go.”

Sloan smiled at him and leaned over and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. I watched my best friend look at her for a moment after she went back to her food. He really loved her.

I remembered the first time he started talking about her, three years ago. We were sitting in a duck blind in South Dakota, and he went on for hours about this woman he’d been seeing. I’d never seen him so into someone. I made a mental note to talk about that during my best-man speech.

“Hey, didn’t you two meet on a call?” I asked, trying to recall the story he’d told me. “At a hospital or something?”

Sloan smiled sweetly at Brandon. “Yeah. I only gave him my number because he was in uniform.”

I grinned. “Can’t say no to a man in uniform, huh?”

I twirled my fork around my pasta. It was incredible. Some kind of venison Bolognese. Sloan was a great cook. Kristen and I really should eat here more often.

“No, I can,” she said. “It’s just I figured they wouldn’t let a felon or registered sex offender into the fire department.”

Brandon chuckled. “I was pulling the rig up to the emergency room entrance when I saw her coming out. Back when we had an ambulance at the station.”

Now I remembered the story. The rest of the details positioned themselves. Sloan’s roommate was in the ER, and she’d been there with her. That had to have been Kristen, then. “Wasn’t it you in the ER?” I asked, looking at Kristen.

Kristen was the last person to go to the ER for nothing. In fact, she was one of those patients you could never get to go to the hospital when they actually needed to. Stubborn to a fault. Mom called it strong-woman syndrome.

Most of my sisters had the affliction.

Kristen didn’t look up from her plate. “I passed out at a pep rally.” My brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I was anemic.” She said it without emotion, but I noticed the way Sloan watched her as she told the story.

Anemic. Bleeding. Were her periods that bad?

“When is your car going to be fixed?” Kristen asked, changing the subject.

“It’s ready now,” Sloan said. “I just need someone to drive me to go get it. Brandon can’t. He’s helping his sister move tomorrow.”

“Well, I can bring it to you,” I offered. “Kristen, why don’t I drive home with you tonight? I’ll leave my truck here, and I can stay the night at your place. After I’m done with tomorrow’s orders, I’ll pick up Sloan’s car and drive it back.”

It was like the whole room held their breath waiting for her answer. “Sure,” Kristen said, shrugging.

Forks went back to clinking on plates.

I was sure I’d be forced into the guest room, but I’d banked on her practicality and won. She knew I’d be there tomorrow morning early anyway. We had a ton of orders. And why deny Sloan her car? I’d spent the night there plenty of times already, this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I clearly knew her well enough to anticipate her thought processes.

So why, then, had it been such a surprise to me how upset she was about Tyler?