Saturday morning, I’m staring at my iPad drinking my coffee and waiting for Casey to get out of my bathroom. I have to work this morning, and then we’re heading to the bridal expo, but it’s nice with the warm sun coming in through my window and the fresh aroma of black coffee, puppy on my lap. . . . Makes me want to sit here all day.

Just as I’m contemplating ways I might be able to fake a sickness and not do a damn thing today, someone knocks at my door.

Oliver’s ears perk up, a soft growl emitting from his tiny body. “Shhhh.” I pat his head softly, trying to calm the crazy little bugger. “No need to get all worked up.”

Leaving Oliver on the couch, I open the door and come face-to-face with Tathan once again. The moment I see his face, his photographs flash in my head and that damn friend request. Goddamn you, Casey.

I want to shut the door in his face, but I can’t. I simply stand there and stare like a freaking idiot.

It’s his appearance I can’t shake—dressed in black slacks with a matching black button-down long-sleeved shirt. Of course, the top few buttons are undone, and my eyes are drawn there. There’s no denying how sexy this man is, unfortunately.

Hello, Johnny Cash.

I have half a mind to lean forward and smell him. I bet he smells amazing. Not doing this comes from my impeccable restraint against him. There’s just something about a man who looks that good I can’t quite resist.

Tathan grins, looking over my dress. “You look hot.” He licks his lips, leaning into the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

He always ruins it by talking. “What do you want?”

“You.”

I roll my eyes taking a step back. “Funny.”

“I try to be.”

I start to close the door in his face, but his foot stops me. “You forgot this.” He hands me my power bill I must have dropped last night in his apartment.

I meet his eyes, and I regret it simply for the fact that they draw me in with their tenderness. “You know. . .” I clear my throat when I realize how scratchy my voice sounds. “I’m fully capable of retrieving my own mail. How do you even get it? My mailbox locks.”

“I have connections. And how else would I annoy you?” he asks, leaning closer to me, as if he’s waiting for me to invite him in. I don’t because Casey is in there and she will make it awkward by saying something in front of him.

“You look good. Where are you heading?” His eyes rake down my body again. “I thought you had to work today?”

“I do have to work,” I tell him, avoiding where I’m going after work.

“Ah, come on,” he whispers, “give me something.”

Don’t talk like that. Don’t alter your voice to a whisper around me because it weakens my hatred for you.

“Give you what?”

“You never answered my question.” Without any shame, he looks at my tits.

“My eyes are up here, dude. What question?”

He nods at my dress, and I remember he asked who the lucky guy was.

I choke on my own spit, which by the way, is embarrassing when you do it in front of Tathan. “No one.”

What’s even more embarrassing than choking on your own spit is biting your tongue in the process in front of quite possibly the hottest male on the face of the planet.

“Okay, so if there’s no one, then why is it that you keep saying no?”

I want to shove him against the wall and kiss him so badly. His lips remind me of pillows, so soft and I bet they’re warm, too.

Folding my arms over my chest, I try not to stare at him. “Because I don’t want to go out with you.”

“Why?”

I snort. “Because I don’t.”

“But you have no actual reason. . . just that you don’t? Is it that you don’t find me attractive?”

He knows that isn’t it. By the look on his face, he definitely knows. “Why should I go out with you, Tathan? Give me one good reason.”

“Because I’m a nice guy.”

Okay, well that’s a good one. I know damn well he’s a nice guy.

“A nice guy who steals my mail. It’s a federal offense, you know that, right?”

He smiles. It’s bright and wide; our bantering causes those cute dimples of perfection he has. “You gonna call the cops on me?”

“I might.”

“So you won’t go out with me, and you’re going to have me arrested. Hmmm. . .” He laughs. “You humping anyone then?”

Humping? Did he really just say that?

“Are you a thirteen-year-old boy?” It’s everything in my power not to laugh. “Who says humping?”

You do, Amalie. You said it last week to Zane.

I start to close my door, but he stops me; his foot wedges between the door and the frame. “Wait, are you going to answer my question?”

“No.” I push against the door. “Move your foot.”

He does as I say, surprisingly, and I can’t wipe the damn grin off my face even if I try. “No, you’re not going to answer, or no, you’re not humping anyone?”

“Bye, Tathan,” I say, and smile to myself once it’s closed.

I hear him groan, banging his head against my door.

Thrilled I’m finally getting to him, I lean my back into the door. Casey comes around the corner and puts on her shoes, one hand on my shoulder balancing herself, the other slipping on her heels. “Who was that?”

“No one.” I don’t look at her and reach for my own shoes.

She looks over my shoulder at the door. “There was testosterone in here. I can smell it.”

“No, there wasn’t.” I grab my keys off the counter. “I’m running late for work. Pick me up at noon.”

Casey is easily distracted—just like Zane—so by me reaching for my keys on the counter, she is on to the next topic.

The wedding.

Which helps me out tremendously because it’s less explaining that I have to do about the testosterone that was at my door.

Casey and Zane are beyond excited about the wedding expo.

Really, I can’t blame them, it’s exciting. Weddings are meant to be. So with all the anticipation, I agree to just about anything on the way out the door. I do this so she won’t ask about Tathan.

I even agree to brunch with her tomorrow to go over the bridal shower next weekend, and I hate brunch. I don’t like the idea of a meal not having a designated title like breakfast or lunch. I don’t like anything that’s in between. Like gray. I hate that color because why can’t it just decide if it’s black or white?