“And that’s my day,” Tiffany Russell chirped, sliding easily under the bar so that she could put her tips into the jar that the servers, bartenders, and bar backs shared. That section of the bar swung open, but she’d gotten used to simply scooting under. Which was good, since customers tended to walk by and leave empty glasses on the supposed-to-stay empty section of the polished oak bar.

“I’m off as soon as Eric gets here, too,” Cam said, easing down from where he’d just returned a bottle of top-shelf gin to its place.

She and Cameron Reed had worked together for years at The Fix on Sixth, which, as far as Tiffany was concerned was the best place to hang out and have a drink in the entire city of Austin. Maybe even all of Texas. They’d never dated, but they’d hit it off immediately and had become fast friends.

“I just put in an order for some Mushroom Spinach Risotto Balls and some Farmhouse Sliders for me and Mina. Wanna join?” He pointed to a table by the currently empty stage, where his girlfriend of almost a year, Mina, sat making notes on a script.

“Are you kidding? That would be great. I want to hear all about the new movie.”

Tiffany and Mina had gone to high school together in Austin, and while Tiffany was still in school working toward her masters in psychology, Mina was working for a local indie film company that was doing exceptionally well.

“Plus, you’re starving, right?”

Tiffany laughed. “Busted. You know me too well.”

“I’m guessing your fridge is down to chunks of unidentifiable cheeses, a package of rice cakes—which are gross, by the way—and a flat Diet Coke.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I also have two limes and a carton of half- and-half.”

“Went wild at the grocery store, I see.”

“That’s me. Always doing the crazy.”

The front door opened, and Eric Shay stepped in off of Sixth Street. Immediately, Tiffany’s eyes went to him. Just like Pavlov’s dog, she thought, which was one of the downsides of being a pysch major. Too hard to hide from her own subconscious.

In this case, her id was definitely controlling the show. Her mouth was dry, her pulse had kicked up, and she was going to have to work very hard not to sound like a babbling idiot around him. All because she’d been living for almost a year now with the world’s biggest crush on the dark-haired man with the action- hero body. A man who, apparently, was determined to spin her hormones into a tizzy, because in addition to the jeans that clung to his muscled thighs, he also wore a tank top that clung to his chest and revealed every inch of his tight-but- not-too-bulky arms.

It was, frankly, seriously distracting.

Even in mid-March he was tan, and he looked like a god. Or at least like a fitness model. Which was probably a more reasonable comparison, considering his tank top advertised the Capital 10K, a local Austin marathon that Tiffany knew he’d participated in for each of the last six years. And, she assumed, he’d be running in his seventh in just a few weeks.

So would she, actually.

She’d started running with Mina and two other women who used to work at The Fix. Megan, who’d married Parker Manning after a whirlwind relationship and was about to launch a skin care line. And Taylor, who used to stage manage the Man of the Month calendar contest, but was now happily engaged to one of the winners and working with Spencer and Brooke on Mansion Makeover, their real estate reality show.

“You’re starting to drool,” Cam whispered to her, and she actually rubbed her mouth before realizing he was teasing her. She grabbed a bar rag and smacked him, only to realize that Eric had come even closer and had seen the whole weird interplay.

She waved lamely, feeling not sexy and interesting, but like a twelve-year-old wrestling with her BFF. Way to make a good impression.

Eric waved back, then told Cam he’d be out to relieve him as soon as he changed into the bar’s black logo T-shirt.

“No problem,” Cam said, then turned back to Tiffany. If he was trying to hold in laughter, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

At least no one was sitting along the bar at the moment. Four o’clock on a Sunday was the bar’s slowest time, and most people who came in sat at a table and ordered food. And none of the folks at any of the tables seemed to be paying any attention to her and Cam. Except Mina, who quickly turned back to her script, her expression amused, when Tiffany caught her eye.

“You need to just go for it,” Cam said.

“Hello? I’d planned to last year, remember?”

“How could I forget? You spent days stressing about whether the whole Ben thing made it weird.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I know, but I’m over it now.”

Her original excuse for not pursuing anything with Eric had been that she’d dated his brother Ben for six months when she was an undergrad. He was six years older than Tiffany and at the time he’d been a teaching assistant in the psych department. It wasn’t a grand passion, but they’d had great conversations. It had ended when he entered a doctoral program at a college in the Northeast— where he now had a teaching position—and Tiffany had only realized how uninspired the relationship had been when his leaving hadn’t left a hole in her heart. He was a nice guy, just not her guy.

Her guy would make her tingle. Her guy would generate sparks. He’d make her laugh. He’d make her feel.

Ben simply wasn’t that guy.

But she thought that Eric might be…

“If you’re over it, then why haven’t you done anything?” Cam asked reasonably.

“Because right about the time I got over it, he started going out with that girl.”

“That was last September. And they broke up before Christmas. And now it’s March. Look at all the weeks you’ve wasted.”

She made a face. “Well, if I’d made a move earlier, then I would have been the rebound girl.”

“Procrastination, much?”

“Dammit, Cam. Have you thought that maybe he just doesn’t like me?”

“Or maybe he’s the one who thinks it’s too weird to ask you out.”

“I don’t know. I only saw him a couple of times when Ben and I were together. I felt guilty for thinking he was hot—and kept my mouth shut, of course—but I don’t think he noticed me at all.”

Cam shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t. Then again, maybe you were wrong.”

“And maybe he’s not even remotely interested now.”

“Dunno. But the point is neither do you until you do something about it.” His expression shifted to one of sympathy. “Come on, Tiff. You’re the one who helped me finally get Mina, remember? I want to do the same to you.”

“I know. Thanks. I’m just chicken.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say.”

“What?”

He leaned toward her. “Get over it.”

She rolled her eyes and was tempted to hit him with the bar rag again, but Eric was on his way back.

Cam was scooting under the bar, and she was about to follow. “Hold up. Why don’t you make us a pitcher of Pinot Punch? Appetizers should be out soon.”

“I can do that,” Eric said as he passed Cam, then ducked under the bar and emerged about two feet from Tiffany. She was a full head shorter, and she tilted her head up to smile at him.

“Love the hair,” he said as Cam headed off toward Mina.

“Oh.” She reached up and pushed an errant curl off her face. Her friend Selma had referred Tiff to her hairdresser, and now her wavy light brown hair was highlighted with streaks of magenta. “Thanks. And I can get the drink. You have opening stuff to do.”

“You sure?”

When she nodded, he gave her a thumbs-up then started to pass by her to get to the prep station. But there was a box of wine in the narrow walk space, and since she hadn’t anticipated his movement, she couldn’t get completely clear of him. He ended up passing her sideways, so that for one moment they were facing each other and the air between them crackled, sparking with possibility. His chocolate brown eyes met hers, and she thought she saw a desire as potent as her own.

Then he was past her and the earth started turning again—and the moment evaporated, and she was left to wonder if she’d really seen it, or if it had all been her imagination.

She stayed there like an idiot until she heard him call from the end of the bar, “We moved the pitchers over there.”

“Oh.” She followed his gaze to the location of the pitchers, which she already knew, then called back her thanks. Then she went about pulling the ingredients for what was one of her favorite drinks served at The Fix. She was concentrating on measuring out the orange juice when Eric came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

She squeaked, dropped the OJ carton, and spun around.

“Oh, shit,” she said, glancing between him and the rapidly spreading pool of juice. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Just the opposite. I was going to pass behind you, so I was giving you a silent warning. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really.” She dove beneath the counter for a box of rags and started to mop up the mess.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll make the drink and bring it to you.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not.” This time, she was expecting it when he reached out and lightly put his hand on her upper arm as if to steady her. A place that she was now hyper aware of. “I’m offering,” he said, and once again she saw that heat in his eyes.

“I—oh. If you’re sure?”

“Just pop your head in the back and tell Mike I need him,” he added, referring to the part-time bar back.

“Sure. Thanks.” They were close now, and suddenly she had the completely unreasonable impression that he was going to kiss her. Which couldn’t possibly be true, but she eased out of his grip, anyway.

He stood up straighter, and she slipped under the bar. “Thanks again,” she said, then hurried to sit with Mina and Cam, taking a seat with her back to the bar so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare.

“What was that all about?” Cam asked.

“I’ll never manage to ask him out. I’m acting like a teenager with a crush. When it’s perfectly obvious that I’m a twenty-four-year-old with a crush. It’s absurd. I’m absurd.”

“Wait,” Mina said. The food had been delivered, and she used the slider she held in one hand as a pointer. “You have a crush on Eric?”

Tiffany turned her attention to Cam. “You didn’t tell her?”

Cam’s shoulders rose. “You told me not to.”

Tiffany and Mina exchanged glances, then both started laughing.

“What?” Cam asked.

Mina shook her head, then took his hand. “You’re a really good guy. You know that, right?”

“I just thought—”

“Maybe a movie?” Mina said, her voice pitched a bit too loud.

He’s there? Tiffany mouthed to Cam, who lifted his brows in acknowledgment and sipped his water.

Tiffany’s pulse, which had calmed down, kicked up again.

“Looks good,” Eric said, eyeing the food as he put the pitcher of Pinot Punch—a mix of pinot grigio, orange juice, peach schnapps, frozen peach slices, and Sprite—on the table.

“Thanks for doing that,” Tiffany said. “And sorry again for being such a klutz.”

“Yeah, well, at least you’re a pretty klutz.” He held her eyes for a heartbeat, then looked away, almost as if he’d startled himself with his own bravado.

As if sensing the need for intervention, Mina asked Eric what he was doing later. Spring Break officially started the next day. “You don’t usually have a day off after a shift, do you?”

“Nope,” Eric said. “But I also usually work until closing. I’m only on the clock for five hours tonight. Off at nine. Reece said he’d come in and cover for me.”

“Hot date?” Cam asked, and Tiffany kicked him under the table.

“Not exactly. Pretty much everyone in my apartment complex either goes to UT or recently graduated. So there’s a party tonight in the courtyard. When I mentioned it to Reece, he offered to cover for me. To be honest, I wasn’t planning on going, but when your boss tells you to go to a party…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Sounds like fun,” Mina said. “Why weren’t you going to go?”

He shrugged, his eyes cutting quickly to Tiffany and then back to Mina. “I’ve only lived in this apartment for a few months, so I don’t know many of them yet. Guess I wasn’t in the mood to go stag.”

“So take someone,” Cam said.

“Sure,” Mina added. “Why don’t you take Tiffany?”

“What?” Tiffany said.

“Yeah?” Eric shifted to look at her. “I’d love the company if you’re up for it.”

“I—” She looked helplessly at Cam and Mina, both of whom were urging her on with their eyes. “Well, yeah. That sounds fun.”

Eric’s wide smile lit up her heart. “All right, then,” he said. “It’s a date.”

“Yeah,” Tiffany repeated, her voice raised above the cacophony of hooting and hollering going on in her head. “A date.”