Jake

Me: Confession time? I’ve had all week to try and haven’t managed to make it more than five minutes without thinking about you naked and moaning under me. The only thing keeping me from showing up in your room in the middle of the night is the need to maintain the illusion that I’m not a creep.

Ava: I’ve thought about it a lot too. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things this week.

Blood rushes to my dick at those words, and I grimace as I scan the crowded bar. Ava’s been at auditions all day, so she probably isn’t up for company tonight, but fuck if I don’t want to show up at her doorstep right now and hear some very specific details about her thoughts.

Me: Up for a call? I can hide in my office for a few. Don’t mind texting but would rather hear your voice when I learn all about what’s been on your mind.

Ava: I can’t call. I’m meeting someone, but it’s my turn for a confession.

Me: Please, go on . . .

Ava: I’m putting the brakes on Operation Pregnancy.

I blink at my phone and reread her last text three times before the next one comes through.

Ava: We can talk more tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you.

I’m not sure if this should feel like a victory or a defeat. On the one hand, when I finally do sleep with Ava, I have no intention of being the stud called in to share his seed before being sent away. In that sense, I’m glad she’s putting her plans on hold after our night together.

On the other hand, I don’t know if the end of Operation Pregnancy means the end of my excuse to seduce her.

Maybe it’s an opportunity to confess it was never more than an excuse.

My fingers hover over the screen as I mentally compose and dismiss dozens of replies. I’m equal parts relieved and panicked. I have no doubt Ava still wants a child. She’s just decided it’s better not to try for one. Or has she decided it is better not to try for one with me?

Me: Swing by and have a beer with me.

I regret that reply the second I send it. Too damn casual. I don’t want her to think that this decision is nothing to me. So I send another.

Me: Or I can come by your place. Whatever sounds good to you. We should talk.

Ava: Maybe I’ll come by Jackson Brews after my date.

Me: Date????

I grimace at the four question marks looking back at me from my text. If I wanted to play it cool, I could have left off a few of those.

Ava: I forgot I scheduled two SUC dates at once. Just got the reminder about tonight and didn’t want to be the bitch who stood someone up.

I officially hate text conversations. Is it really that she doesn’t want to stand someone up, or does her decision to end Operation Pregnancy mean she’s back on the market?

I tried to give her space this week. Last Saturday night was intense for her. It was for me, too—intense and fucking amazing. We both put ourselves out there. Admitted this attraction isn’t new on either side. It was everything.

Me: Enjoy your date. Be safe. Call if you need me.

I have to believe her plans to take the focus off pregnancy might mean something good for us, but until we get to talk in person, I can’t assume anything.

Ava

If I hadn’t scheduled my first two Straight Up Casual dates at the same time, and if I didn’t have a serious guilt complex at the prospect of standing someone up, I’d be spending my Saturday night at home, not at Howell’s downing another shot of tequila and praying to every deity I’ve ever heard of that this experience is better than my last.

I’d like to blame the tequila for the heat pooling in my belly, but I know Jake’s texts are responsible. I like the idea of him thinking about me. I like the idea of him showing up in my bed in the middle of the night. My only problem is that I don’t know if the attraction he proved so clearly last weekend extends beyond sexual desire. Does he want a real relationship with me? And do I want one with him when I don’t know where I’ll be living come fall?

Ending Operation Pregnancy in a text was cowardly, but I was afraid I wouldn’t do it at all if I didn’t do it now. And if the sexy texts stop now? That’ll tell me all I need to know about where Jake stands.

I study the contents of my drink and wait for a date I’m not the slightest bit interested in having. This is the last one. Thankfully, Ellie was cool about it when I told her I was transferring her gift to Teagan.

I might as well make the best of tonight, though, so I will myself to imagine a good outcome to this date. A handsome guy with a big smile who looks at me with stars in his eyes. Someone with a steady job, who values family and knows how to make me laugh.

Someone a lot like Jake.

The thought makes my chest pinch, and I take a long pull of my beer. Jake isn’t just a prime example of the kind of guy every girl deserves; he’s my rock.

Since Saturday night, when I realized how thoroughly I was taking advantage of him, I’ve been trying to brace myself for a life where I hold myself up a little more on my own and depend on Jake a little less. It won’t be easy.

When Carter Jackson walks in the door of Howell’s and spots me and the Straight Up Casual placard on my table, I want to crawl under the nearest rock. If he knows that Jake and I were jumping headlong into Operation Pregnancy only a week ago, seeing me here with another guy tonight is going to make me look like an ass.

I am an ass.

This is so stupid. I should have just called and canceled this date. I’ve lost my job, might be moving to Florida, and have feelings for my lifelong best friend that I don’t really know what to do with. I have no business dating right now.

Carter grabs a shot from the bar, throws it back, then strides across the room to me. He thrums his fingers on my table. “Straight Up Casual?” he asks with an arched brow.

“If you mock me for this,” I say, “I’ll tell every single woman in town that you have a small penis.”

He holds up a hand and then clears his throat. “Okay, first of all, they know better. Second of all, I’m not mocking you.” He looks around. “I’m pretty sure you’re my date, Ava.”

I glare at him. “Are you freaking kidding me? They set me up with my boss four weeks ago, and this week it’s my best friend’s brother?”

He winces. “They set you up with Mr. Mooney?”

“Yeah. Not the best night of my life, let me tell you.”

“Shit.” Grimacing, he scratches his head. Like the rest of the Jackson boys, Carter is incredibly hot. He has dark hair and eyes, full lips and scruffy cheeks, and a thick, muscular build that’s a testament to his hours at the gym and his firefighter training. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Little bit,” I agree.

“I thought . . .” He clears his throat and looks around again. “I thought you and Jake were . . . I heard something about a baby?” His voice squeaks on baby, and my cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“I called that off.” I sigh. “It was a crazy idea, and I came to my senses.”

“Right. It was . . . well, unconventional, I guess.” When he brings his eyes back to meet mine, his expression softens. “You can’t be my date, Ava,” he whispers. “No offense, but I just can’t do that.”

Thank God. “Because I’m like a sister to you, or because I took all your money last time we played poker?”

When he grins, little lines pop up by his eyes. “I forgot about that. Damn, I still think you cheated.”

“I don’t have to cheat. I’m just good.” I wave to the waitress with a grin. “But how about I buy you a drink to make up for it?”