On Thursday evening, Carol stayed late at Tea for Two.

Although she usually left midafternoon, one of the women who attended the counter was pregnant and had an appointment that afternoon and no one else was able to cover the shift, so Carol stayed late to help out.

She was tired and blah at five fifteen. It felt like she’d been working forever and had nothing to show for it except aching feet and a clouded mind. Plus Ginny had been gushing all day about plans for her wedding.

Carol was happy for Ginny and Emma and their upcoming marriages. She really was. She didn’t feel the slightest bit of resentment over their relationships or their giddiness. She was definitely happy for her brother, whom she loved more than anything and whom she’d never seen so nakedly happy.

But still…

It was sometimes hard. Everyone around her was so romantically satisfied, and here she was still on her own—with nothing but a succession of failed attempts to woo one very stubborn and clueless swain.

One day she’d have to accept that Patrick was never going to think about her that way.

But that day wasn’t here yet.

When she’d served the last customer in line, she went to collapse in a chair in the corner of the shop, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes.

Maybe she could get ten minutes’ rest before another customer came in.

She almost groaned when she heard the bell on the front door jangle.

The last thing she wanted was to let anyone think that serving them was a chore, however, so she opened her eyes and jumped up. She was halfway to the counter when her eyes landed on the man who had just walked in.

Patrick, wearing jeans and a wool jacket, his brown hair messy, and needing to shave. He looked adorably mussed and just a little tired.

“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Aren’t you normally still at work at this time?”

“Emma kicked me out.” His brown eyes were as clever as always, although they seemed to be unusually heavy.

“Why?”

“She said I was too grumpy to be around, so she’s closing up the office and sending everyone home.”

“Good. You should give your staff a break every now and then and let them leave at five like normal people.”

“They can leave at five if they want. I’m not some sort of unreasonable dictator.” His tone was tinged with a hint of resentment, as if she’d insulted him instead of teased him.

Carol frowned as she studied his face, realizing that whatever mood Emma had sensed in him had been real. This wasn’t his normal absentminded grumpiness.

He was in a real slump.

“I know you’re not,” she said quietly. “Everyone I’ve ever talked to loves working for you. I was just teasing.”

He let out a breath that looked as if he were intentionally trying to talk himself out of his reaction. “Yeah. Sorry. I know.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Can I get some coffee?”

“Sure.” She grabbed a mug and poured him a cup of strong Columbian, which was what he always drank. She watched as he took the coffee over to the table she’d been sitting at. His shoulders were slumped slightly as he sat down, and it worried her.

Something was bothering him.

This wasn’t normal for Patrick.

She was about to go over to join him when a group entered the shop, obviously having just left work for the day. They all wanted something different and complicated, so it was almost ten minutes before she could look back over at Patrick.

He was on his laptop, like normal, and almost finished with his cup of coffee.

She filled a glass with ice water and carried it over to him. When he looked at her in confusion, she explained, “If you’ve been drinking coffee all day, you should drink this.”

His mouth curled up in the beginnings of a sneer.

“Oh stop whining and just do it,” she muttered, leaving him alone at the table.

As she walked away, she yelled at herself a little about how she was blowing this whole seduction plan.

What kind of guy was going to be seduced by a girl who bossed him around about drinking water instead of coffee?

The bell on the door jangled again before she could bemoan her lack of seductive talent too much. They always got a little flurry of activity when downtown offices got out after five. She worked covering the counter for the next half hour, and by the time she was able to return to the table, Patrick had been joined by Emma and Ginny, who’d finished up her inventory in the stockroom.

The first thing she noticed was that Patrick’s glass was empty, so she went to fill it up with more water before she sat down.

“How’d you get him to drink water?” Emma asked. “He’s had nothing but coffee all day.”

“I just gave him the glass. I didn’t think he was going to drink it.”

Patrick scowled. “I’m sitting right here, you know.”

“Yes, we know,” Emma said, rolling her eyes with real annoyance, a clear sign that Patrick had been getting on her nerves all day. “And if you don’t stop growling all the time, we’re all going to go sit somewhere else.”

“Was it a bad day at work?” Carol asked, still worried about Patrick’s mood.

Emma answered when Patrick didn’t. “Nothing unusual, although we’ve been pretty stressed. We have too many jobs and not enough staff. We’re going to hire in the next month, as soon as I can get the positions organized and the ads out there.”

“Well, that’s a good problem, I guess. That you have so much work.”

Emma nodded, her eyes moving to her brother, who was completely focused on his laptop. Then she met Carol’s eyes and gave her friend a little shrug, as if to indicate she had absolutely no idea what had gotten into him today.

Ginny had been zipping through emails on her tablet, but she lowered it now and said with a little twitch of a smile, “So, Carol, tell me about your date.”

This got Patrick’s attention. He looked up with a frown. “What date?”

Carol felt her cheeks warming and wished she didn’t blush so easily. If only she could act cool and casual about her social life the way Ginny always had. “There’s nothing to tell. It’s just a date.”

“With who?” Patrick asked.

“Just a guy. You don’t know him.”

“She’s been doing that dating site just like you have,” Emma explained. “And she found a guy she’s interested in.”

“What do you know about him?”

It would be nice if she could believe that Patrick’s frowning interest was prompted by jealousy, but it was more likely just a big-brotherly type suspicion of a guy she’d met online. “I know enough,” she said lightly, trying to sound like it was no big deal. “We’re just meeting for dinner on Sunday.”

“Why Sunday?”

She gave a half shrug. “That’s when he asked me.” She suspected he might have had another date on Saturday night, but she wasn’t about to mention that to Patrick.

“You’re driving yourself, right?”

She sighed. “Yes. I’m driving myself.”

“Okay.” He went back to his laptop.

Of course. She’d been right. He wasn’t jealous at all. He just didn’t want her to do something stupid, and he would have behaved the same way if it was Emma or Ginny meeting up with a stranger.

“What are you going to wear?” Ginny asked, her eyes sparkling with something that looked like mischief.

Carol knew how to read that expression. Ginny had some sort of plan. She was leading up to something. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Maybe you should buy something new.”

“I might.” Under ordinary circumstances, Carol wouldn’t have bought a new outfit just for a date. She’d never even met the guy. There was no reason to assume she would like him. She wouldn’t even have accepted the invitation except Ginny and Emma both said she should. She wasn’t going to waste money on new clothes for him yet.

It wasn’t like he was Patrick.

“When you go shopping,” Ginny said, “make sure to take someone with you so you can get a second perspective on the clothes you try on.”

Carol stared at Ginny for a moment, suddenly realizing where the conversation was leading.

Ginny must be crazy.

There was absolutely no way in the world that Patrick was ever going to go shopping with her.

Ginny gave her a little nod with an expression that clearly said Carol was supposed to respond.

“Okay,” Carol said dutifully. “I will.”

“What you really need is a guy’s perspective,” Emma chimed in, evidently catching on at the same time Carol had.

“I don’t have a guy to offer me any perspective,” Carol said, rolling her eyes at her friends.

Patrick wasn’t looking at them. He was barely listening.

There was no way he was going to volunteer to be the male perspective she needed.

“Patrick could do it,” Ginny said. “He’s a guy.”

Patrick blinked and looked up. “What now?”

“You can be the guy’s perspective for Carol,” Emma explained. “When she goes shopping for an outfit for her date.”

“What are you talking about?” He sounded confused and not at all happy.

“Carol needs a new outfit for her date, and she needs a guy’s perspective on what to wear. Maybe you could go with her and help her out.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he muttered.

“Come on, Patrick. Why have you been so out of sorts this week? Can’t you help Carol out a little?” Emma was giving her brother a little glare.

Carol was starting to get uncomfortable. She wasn’t even sure she wanted Patrick to go shopping with her, and she definitely didn’t want him to be bullied into it. “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ll just wear something I already have. Surely there’s something that I look decent in.”

“See, now you’ve made Carol feel bad. She thinks you don’t want to help her out.”

“Emma, it doesn’t—” Carol began.

“I’ll go.” Patrick interrupted. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you all, but I’ll go if she needs me to.”

Carol stared at him in surprise.

“What?” he demanded, frowning at her. “If you need someone to help, then I’ll do it. I’m not always an asshole, am I?”

Emma snickered at this, but Carol felt a wave of affection and a little bit of guilt.

He thought she seriously needed his help, and so he was doing it even though he didn’t want to.

He didn’t know it was just a plan to get them alone together.

She was about to let him off the hook since she didn’t like to trick him, but Ginny gave her a quick, significant look and broke in. “Good. That’s a plan then. Maybe you could go on Saturday afternoon.”

Patrick shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Carol sighed. “I’ll make you a pie as a thank-you.”

He perked up visibly. “Really?”

She laughed. “Yes, really.”

She was starting to feel better. They would have Saturday afternoon together, and he didn’t even look resentful about it.

Maybe a little scheming on the part of her friends wasn’t the end of the world.

***

On Saturday afternoon, Patrick was starting to wonder if this shopping expedition was some cruel torture routine devised by a malevolent deity specifically for him—for countless sins long forgotten.

He and Carol had agreed that the shopping would consist of no more than two stores and go on for no more than two hours. But he was an hour and a half in now, sitting outside a department store dressing area and waiting for Carol to come out in yet another sexy outfit, intended to entice a man other than him.

And he had to keep sitting there and pretending it didn’t bother him.

Torture.

Complete and utter torture.

She was stressed about what kind of outfit to pick out—whether she should dress up or wear something casual—and so the parade of clothes she’d tried on ranged from low-cut dresses to form-fitting pants that could only be classified as tights. Every time the dressing room door opened, he had to steel himself for another tidal wave of lust, possessiveness, and frustration.

Made worse because she evidently saw him as a big-brother type who would never look at her with any sort of attraction.

He never had. Not really. Not until the rest of their circle of friends had all started to pair up, opening up possibilities he’d never let himself consider before.

If Noah could choose Emma and Ryan could choose Ginny, then why couldn’t he choose Carol?

It was a difficult question not to ask himself.

When he saw the doorknob start to turn, he took a deep breath and straightened up on the bench he’d been sitting on for the past forty minutes.

“Okay,” Carol said, sounding just as cheerful and energetic as she had when they’d started their shopping trip countless eons ago. “Here’s this one.”

She stepped out so he could see her in a pair of black jeans—stretchy and far tighter than she normally wore—and a soft, thin blue sweater whose neckline kept slipping off one shoulder.

“Imagine I’m wearing heels,” she said, turning around in front of the three-paned mirror.

“Looks fine,” he managed to rasp. The jeans clung to her body. Molded like glue. His eyes were raking over the deep curve of her bottom, lingering on her breasts and her hips.

If she showed up on a date wearing that outfit, the guy would have her out of it in about five minutes.

At least Patrick would. He was having trouble not getting up right now and hauling her back into the dressing room with him so he could start peeling off her clothes.

Carol appeared completely unaware of his reaction. She was frowning into the mirror, looking over her shoulder in an attempt to see her back. She lifted the hem of the sweater, revealing her very round ass in those jeans. “My butt looks too big, doesn’t it?”

Patrick gulped and clenched his hands hard. Her butt was emphasized by the tightness, but too big wasn’t even close to what he was thinking. Her shape was exactly right, exactly what he liked best. And he wanted nothing more than to slide his palms down her hips so he could cup those luscious curves in his hands.

When he raised his eyes and realized she was waiting for an answer, he swallowed again and forced out, “Fine.”

“Maybe I should go with a skirt,” she said, still not letting her sweater fall back down to hide the temptation of her ass. “Something that would deemphasize my butt.”

He was barely listening. His eyes were misbehaving again. “Yeah,” he said, because she’d paused and he realized he was supposed to respond.

Her spine stiffened, and she turned around to face him. He would have been grateful for the move, but the mirror was perfectly angled to give him a clear sight of her backside, so the temptation was still before his eyes.

“You think I need to deemphasize my butt?” she asked, her silvery eyes wide and worried.

“What? No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t care!” Her brows were lowering in confusion at his garbled reply. She was going to soon see what was wrong with him. She would realize for the first time how attracted to her he was. And things would never be the same again. In absolute frustration, he burst out, “I don’t give a damn what you wear! Just pick something!”

Her mouth dropped open at his outburst. She didn’t look hurt or upset—just surprised.

Laughter came from the hallway as a middle-aged woman appeared in the dressing room carrying an armful of clothes to try on. “My husband does the same thing,” the woman said, smiling at Carol in understanding. “He always explodes eventually if I take too long. Boyfriends and husbands aren’t really very good shopping partners.”

Carol smiled, but Patrick was suddenly terrified by the jolt of excitement in his heart. To counteract it, he said gruffly, “I’m not her boyfriend.”

The woman blinked, but then she smiled again at Carol. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

When the woman had closed the door on her dressing room stall, Carol turned her back on Patrick and went back into her own stall.

Patrick knew something was wrong. She didn’t say anything as she changed back into her regular outfit and opened the door. She returned most of the previous outfits to the rack but held on to the black jeans and blue sweater she’d tried on last.

She was keeping that outfit. The one that made her ass irresistible.

Some other guy wasn’t going to have Patrick’s restraint. Some other guy would be touching Carol’s ass tomorrow night.

Just perfect.

Patrick stood up, grabbing his saddlebag as Carol left the dressing room and found a checkout counter. There were three people in line in front of them, so they weren’t going to get out of here quickly.

Carol still wasn’t talking to him.

Or looking at him.

He exhaled loudly in almost a groan. “I’m sorry, Carol.”

Her eyes moved to his face. “For what?”

“For yelling before. I’m not really good at patience.”

She turned her head to stare at the woman at the counter, who was evidently buying a complete new wardrobe. “I know that.”

Her expression was so composed that Patrick knew she was controlling it on purpose. Carol was never stoic like that. “I said I’m sorry.”

“I know you said you’re sorry. I’m used to you yelling. It’s no big deal.”

She seemed to mean it, but she was still upset. “So what’s the matter then?”

“Nothing.”

“Carol,” he growled.

“Don’t Carol me.”

“I will Carol you if you’re not going to tell me what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said with a little sniff. “But you know you don’t have to fall all over yourself declaring to the world you’re not my boyfriend. It’s not like I’m a complete loser.”

“What?” he demanded. “Why would you say you’re a loser?”

“I’m not saying I’m a loser. I’m telling you that I’m not, and so it’s not the end of the world if some stranger thinks I’m your girlfriend. Just because you never notice me doesn’t mean no one ever will. I wouldn’t be the worst girlfriend in the world, you know.”

“I know that. What are you talking about?” He was so baffled by her comments that he wasn’t thinking through his words. He was raising his voice again, but he couldn’t help it. Carol evidently thought he’d insulted her by reminding himself he wasn’t her boyfriend, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I notice you all the time!”

“You do not.”

“Yes, I do. For God’s sake, Carol.”

She’d turned to face him now and was meeting his gaze. Her own expression was almost challenging, and her voice was softer as she asked, “What do you notice about me?”

He made an impatient noise in his throat. “I notice everything. I notice how you actually listen to other people instead of just pretending to while planning out the next thing to say. I notice how you’re genuinely happy for Emma and Ginny, even though you occasionally feel a little lonely because they seem to be moving on without you. I notice how much courage it took for you to give up your old job and open Tea for Two—since you were afraid it wasn’t going to take off. I notice how you tear up every time you see those greeting card commercials. I notice how you always rub the side of your face when you’re tired, which is why you always end up getting flour right here.” He raised his hand before he knew what he was doing and stroked the tips of his fingers over her left cheekbone.

Carol’s eyes were wide. She swallowed. Something seemed to be shuddering inside her.

“I notice you, Carol,” he said hoarsely. “How can you think I don’t?”

She took a shaky breath, and he was practically leaning forward, waiting to hear what she would say.

Then, “Excuse me. Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter, wanting them to move up with their purchases so she could keep the line moving.

Carol blinked a few times and turned around to put her items on the counter. She didn’t say anything.

Patrick couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d said too much.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a big mistake and now she knew how he was feeling about her.

It would be nice to think that the two of them could drift together because they were the only two remaining unattached in their circle of friends.

But Patrick didn’t want her to want him just because he was the only one left.

And Carol deserved better than that.

***

All through the drive from the store to her apartment, Carol’s head was buzzing with excitement.

She tried to talk herself down a little. She tried to be reasonable. After all, nothing had really happened, nothing that meant incontrovertibly that Patrick was into her.

But still…

He’d obviously not intended to blurt out all that amazing stuff about her, details that showed he really saw her, really paid attention, really saw her for who she was.

And then he’d touched her face. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

His eyes had been strangely alive, strangely hungry, like it would have only taken the slightest nudge to push him into kissing her.

For a moment she’d thought he would.

He hadn’t. Of course he hadn’t. But she still felt more hope than she ever had before.

And the day wasn’t over yet.

Maybe he’d stay and eat dinner.

Maybe something would happen before he left.

Maybe everything was about to change.

She had to rein in her excitement so she wouldn’t hug herself like an idiot and give away how she was feeling. Patrick was quiet on the drive back, but he was often quiet.

She didn’t mind quiet.

She liked that he was deep. She liked that he always seemed to be thinking things through, working things out, wrapping his mind around issues and questions and problems and situations.

She wanted to be one of the things he wrapped his mind around.

And she wouldn’t say no if he wrapped other parts of his body around her too.

She’d like that a lot.

When he turned in to her parking lot, she smiled at him and said, “Thanks for going shopping with me. I know it wasn’t at the top of your wish list of things to do.”

He gave her a quick look. “It was fine. I didn’t mind.”

“Really? Because it sounded like you got kind of annoyed with the whole enterprise.”

His mouth turned up slightly as he pulled into a guest parking space. “Uh, yeah. Sorry if I was kind of crabby.”

“Kind of?” She was still feeling jittery excitement, and she suspected her eyes might be dancing—just a little.

His expression softened. “A lot,” he amended. “A lot crabby. Sorry about that.”

She gave a little shrug. “I appreciated the effort even if it was begrudging.” Suddenly afraid he was waiting for her to get out so he could drive away, she asked, “Did you want to come up and get your apple pie?”

“Hell, yeah. I didn’t know if you were serious about the pie.”

“I was. I made one for you this morning.” She giggled as they got out, and she had to remind herself yet again not to get ahead of herself.

He’d always liked her pies—and cakes and pastries and everything else she made. He would have come up to get one, if she was offering, even if he had absolutely no interest in her in any other way.

She opened her apartment, pleased that she’d had the foresight to clean it up that morning. Her place was in a new apartment complex on the edge of town—a nice one-bedroom with tall ceilings, a large bathroom, and a big main room, open to the kitchen.

She put down her purse and shopping bag and headed to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to pull out the pie.

No.

That wasn’t a good idea.

If she handed him the pie right now, then he would leave.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, still staring into her refrigerator. “I can make something real quick.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. It’s no big deal.”

Well, that didn’t sound super-enthusiastic, but at least it wasn’t an immediate rejection. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll fix something easy.” She peered at the full shelves until her eyes landed on a package she’d picked up from the deli the day before. “Oh, I’ve got some pancetta. I can make carbonara.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a pasta dish. It takes less than ten minutes. There’s nothing weird in it. You’ll like it. I promise.”

“Okay. Thanks. Sounds good to me.”

The buzzing in her head was getting more intense. It felt like her excitement was coming out of her ears, pushing against her eyes.

Patrick was here, in her apartment, sliding his saddlebag onto the floor and sitting on a stool at her kitchen counter as she pulled items out of the pantry and refrigerator and then set a pot of water to boil on the stove.

“How’s everything at work this week?” she asked, trying her best to sound casual and friendly and not like she was shaking with nerves and exhilaration. “Are you all still overloaded?”

“Yeah. It just gets worse and worse.” When Carol set a bottle of red wine and two glasses in front of Patrick with a corkscrew, he picked it up automatically and started to open the bottle.

“Emma said you’re going to hire?”

“We are. We need at least four more people.”

“That’s great then. Do you think you’ll have any trouble finding good people?”

“It’s easy enough to find good people but not always in this area. With Tech here, we’re better off than we would be, but it’s not like we’re in a big city or anywhere close to one.”

“Still. It’s a nice place to live. Maybe people would want to move here if they got a job.”

“Yes. That’s what I’m counting on.” He got up to bring her the glass of wine he’d poured for her. “Can I do something?”

She’d finished chopping up the pancetta into small pieces. “If that water is bowling, you can put the pasta in.” She pulled out a handful of dried spaghetti and handed it to him. “Add some salt too.”

“How much?” He was frowning as he put the pasta into the water and seemed troubled by the fact that part of it was sticking out.

She chuckled and used a wooden spoon to poke at the pasta until it was all submerged, and then she added a pinch of salt to the pot.

He stared from her to the pot. “How do you know how to do that?”

She tried not to giggle. She really did. “Surely you know how to make pasta, Patrick. You just put it in boiling water.”

“Well, yeah. I could if I needed to.”

She stared at him again. “You do… cook for yourself sometimes, don’t you?”

He met her gaze with an almost challenging look. “I make sandwiches. And I heat up soup.”

She had to bite her lip not to laugh. “Do you grill?”

“Nah. That’s Ryan’s thing.”

“It could be your thing too, you know.”

The corner of his mouth was twitching just a little. “I usually get something out.”

She laughed out loud as she added the pancetta to a hot pan. “Cooking isn’t that hard. I’m sure you could do it if you tried.”

“I don’t know. It all seems kind of mysterious to me.” He stepped over to watch her work. “See, how do you know to do that?”

“I just put it in a pan.”

“But you didn’t even need a recipe.”

“I’ve made this pasta a hundred times. I don’t need a recipe. It’s not rocket science.”

He seemed so genuinely interested and impressed that she experienced a wave of fondness. She reached out to touch his chest without even thinking. “You’re so smart you could probably do rocket science if you wanted. I’m sure you could master cooking if you tried. You’re the smartest person I know.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, and he was breathing more heavily. She could see it in his chest, feel it as his shoulders rose and fell.

It felt significant. So significant that she was suddenly aware that her hand was still pressed against his shirt. She let it drop, turning to focus again on her pan before she let the pancetta burn.

She licked her lips and wondered suddenly if he was going to say something, do something.

She felt close to him, closer than she’d felt to almost anyone.

“Being smart isn’t everything,” he said at last, the words muttered as if he were feeling uncomfortable.

“No,” she agreed. “But it’s something.” She gave him a little smile and took a very big risk. “I like that you’re smart.”

He leaned against the counter, his eyes resting on her face with a strange intensity. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She was too nervous to even look at him. She added a few ingredients to the pan, which fortunately she knew by heart. “That one time when I was a senior and you were in college, you helped me study for that horrible chemistry exam for most of the night. Do you remember?”

“Yes. I remember.”

His voice sounded a little thicker than normal, and she had to turn to check his expression. He was still gazing at her, still looking deep and thoughtful and full of something she couldn’t quite identify.

But it excited her. A lot.

“You always grumbled about it, to show that you didn’t really want to do it, but you still helped me whenever I needed it. Most guys wouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

She blinked at him, stirring the pan absently. “What do mean, why not? Most guys that age weren’t too sensitive or generous, and they were all focused on the pretty, popular girls. Most guys wouldn’t have helped me. But you did.”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah. I guess. Well, the pretty, popular girls didn’t even look twice at me.”

Carol knew that was true, and she’d always thought it was ludicrous. He was better-looking now than he’d been in high school, but even back then he’d been so cute and smart and sweet beneath his gruffness. Girls had to be blind not to have seen it.

“I always thought you were one of the pretty girls,” Patrick added, staring down at the pan.

Carol sucked in a breath and checked his face, but he didn’t raise his eyes. “Oh. I definitely wasn’t.” When he looked like he was going to object, she continued, “Not that I was ugly or anything. I just wasn’t one of the popular girls. Ginny was always really popular. Guys would always fall all over themselves to ask her out. I was never like her.”

He shook his head and opened his mouth like he would say something, but no words came out.

Suddenly self-conscious, Carol opened her carton of eggs and started cracking.

The sauce came together quickly, and it was ready as soon as the pasta was done. She added the drained pasta to the pan, mixed it up, and then dished it out onto two plates, adding some parmesan to the top of both.

She handed one plate to Patrick. “Done.”

“Wow,” he said, looking genuinely amazed. “How the hell did you do that?”

“It’s an easy dish.”

“I couldn’t have done it.” They sat at her counter to eat, and Patrick kept making moaning noises as he ate, so she assumed that meant he liked the food.

He’d always liked her food.

Just because they were eating together right now—in the evening, in her apartment—didn’t mean he was thinking this was anything different, anything important.

He’d said he thought she was one of the pretty girls.

And he’d really seemed to mean it.

As they ate, Carol managed to land on a good topic of conversation—their friends’ upcoming weddings—and they laughed together over Carol’s story of the search for bridesmaids’ dresses and Patrick’s recital of all the places Noah was considering for a honeymoon.

Carol had a really good time. And Patrick seemed to too. He’d relaxed a lot and didn’t appear to be holding back the way he so often seemed to be doing.

They sat for a while after they were finished, just talking, and Carol was so happy she felt like she might melt from it. She was sure her cheeks were red, and it felt like her hair might have gotten frizzy, but she didn’t even really care.

Patrick seemed to like what he saw when he looked at her. At least his eyes were resting on her face an awful lot.

After a while though, he seemed to stiffen—for no particular reason, just out of the blue—and then he looked down at his watch. “It’s getting late.”

It wasn’t that late, but she knew a hint when she heard one. “Okay,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for staying for dinner.”

“Thanks for making it. It was really good.” He got off his stool and carried his plate to the sink, and she followed him with hers.

She hadn’t intended to stand so close behind him, but she was evidently closer than he realized. When he turned around, he gave a little jerk to discover they were face-to-face, only a few inches apart.

Her lips parted as her body was swept with a sudden wave of absolute longing. There was no other word for it. She wanted him. Patrick. With his dark, deep eyes and his five-o’clock shadow and his hair that kinked up just over his left temple and his lovely masculine shoulders and the warmth that always radiated from his body.

She wanted him.

So much.

“Patrick,” she heard herself whisper, swaying toward him unconsciously.

He lifted a hand to brush his fingers down her cheek the way he had in the store, the light touches sending tingles of pleasure all through her.

“Patrick,” she breathed again.

He tilted his head down, and she knew—she knew—he was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tension of his body.

One of her hands lifted of its own accord and clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

Then he made a strangled sound in his throat, and he jerked away from her, turning on his heel.

She gasped in surprise and disappointment. She’d almost—almost—kissed him, and then he’d yanked it away from her. “Patrick? What’s the matter?”

He didn’t turn back. He was standing completely frozen as if he were incapable of moving.

He was so tense that it worried her, despite her disappointment. She put her hand on his shoulder and tried to turn him around. “What’s wrong, Patri—”

“Don’t,” he burst out, taking two steps away from her, like her touch had scalded him.

Her earlier exhilaration had suddenly transformed to a heavy knot in her stomach, and it was sinking lower by the moment, making her sick. “Patrick, what on earth is wrong?” She tried to touch him again, only to have him jerk away.

“Damn it,” he bit out. “I’m not a dress rehearsal for your date tomorrow night, you know.”

She stared at him, bewildered and stunned until her mind finally processed what he’d said.

Dress rehearsal.

For her date tomorrow night.

He thought she was using him.

He thought she was just practicing on him.

He thought she was some sort of bitch who would flirt with him on purpose when she had absolutely no interest in him.

The realization hurt so much she could barely breathe around the lump in her throat.

He’d turned to look at her now, and he must have seen some of her reaction on her face. His features twisted. “Damn it,” he said in a harsh exhale. “I didn’t mean that.”

But he had meant it. She knew he had.

It never occurred to him for even a moment that she might want him for him.

It never occurred to him for even a moment that they could be a possibility for each other.

His only explanation had been that she was a horrible person who would use him.

“I’m sorry, Carol,” he said, looking more like himself now. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean that. I was—”

He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence, but it didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

All of Carol’s hopes had been dashed to smithereens at her feet.

“Carol, say something,” Patrick said, sounding concerned. His face was slightly blurry in front of her eyes. “I said I’m sorry. What do you want me to—”

“Just leave,” she managed to bite out.

He grew still. “What?”

“I want you to leave,” she said, sounding more in control now, cool in a way she almost never was.

Almost cold.

“I don’t want to leave. You’re upset, and I said something I shouldn’t have. If you can just—”

His concern and obvious distress were just making it worse—because he was a good person who would never have hurt her like this intentionally.

Just further proof that a romantic relationship between them was something that he never once entertained as a real possibility.

She felt like she was about to shatter, and she couldn’t do it in front of Patrick.

She might be humiliated, but there was a limit to how far she would fall in front of him. “Patrick, get out of here right now.”

His face twisted again. “Carol, please.”

“No.” She suddenly found herself capable of moving, and she walked around the counter and leaned over to pick up his bag. She handed it to him. “Get out of my apartment. Right now.”

He was still hesitating, and he looked like he was going to argue some more.

“Right. Now.”

“I’ll leave for now,” he said reluctantly, hoarsely. “But I’m going to call you tomorrow.”

She didn’t want him to call, but she’d deal with that tomorrow. She stood frozen in place until he finally turned away.

Then she remembered something. “Your pie.”

“I don’t need—”

“I made it for you.” Her voice sounded strange, brittle, but she managed to go to the refrigerator and pull out the pie she’d baked him. It was all wrapped up and ready to go.

She walked over to hand it to him. He held it with both hands. “Thank you. I’m so sorry, Carol. I didn’t mean to hurt—”

“Just leave.”

He swallowed over whatever he wanted to say and finally got to the door. He looked back at her one more time, with something almost aching on his face, but she didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

When he finally stepped outside and closed the door behind him, she hurried over to lock it.

Then she leaned against the door and started to shake.

It was hopeless.

It had been hopeless from the beginning.

He was never going to love her, never even going to want her.

He was her brother’s best friend, and that was all he’d ever be.

She’d been a fool to hope for anything else.