Tess has a date.

A goddamned, motherfucking date.

It can’t be Logan because I made sure his ass would be stuck behind the bar tomorrow night. When Patrick started talking about closing for the night, I offered him up as tribute. He seemed disappointed but didn’t protest.

So, yeah. it can’t be Logan.

There’s a guy who schedules an oil change every two weeks that stares at her ass when she isn’t looking. Another guy I’ve seen her play pool with a few times at the bar.

Then there’s the guy.

The guy who does her tattoos. She saw him for a while. Six months, two weeks, and five days to be exact. I know they’re still friends. That she still—

“Are you listening to me?”

Fuck.

“I’m sitting three feet away from you, Jessica.” I don’t even try to hide my agitation. “How can I not be listening to you?” I don’t look at her when I say it, using the fact that I’m driving as an excuse to avoid eye contact. After leaving Anton’s I spent three brain-numbing hours listen to her prattle and complain about everything from the fact that Anton refuses to give her preferential treatment to the fact that Cari’s little sister is obviously some sort of psycho.

For the record, I like Grace. She’s hilarious.

“—like a pint-sized slut in that dress.”

My neck instantly stiffens.

She’s talking about Tess.

“Don’t.”

“Why?” I can feel her staring at me, eyes narrowed on my face. “Because you’re still in love with her?”

Yes.

“Because there’s no reason for it.” I pull up in front of our apartment building and put it in park. “She’s never done anything to you.” I turn in my seat and glare at her. “Not one fucking thing. Ever.”

Her cheeks flush and her eyes narrow even further. “Well, she’s still in love with you.”

I don’t know if that’s true. A part of me wishes it was. The selfish dick part of me who takes what he wants and doesn’t give a shit who gets hurt in the process. That guy wants Tess to love him. He wants to tell Jessica to get the fuck out of his car. He wants to go find Tess. Keep her. Fucking kidnap her if he has to. He’s the guy who lost his shit when she turned up half-naked and hanging all over some random douchebag on Halloween. The guy who stole her cat. The guy who kissed her outside the bar a few weeks ago. The guy who ambushed her at Benny’s just a few hours ago.

He’s the guy who can’t leave her alone, no matter how hard I try.

These days, it’s getting harder and harder to keep him on a leash.

When I don’t answer her or turn off the car she stops glaring and starts pouting. “You’re leaving again?” She sounds upset. Like she wants me to stay home but she doesn’t. She’s as eager to be rid of me as I am of her.

“Yeah.” I turn in my seat and shift the car back into drive. “It’s Friday, remember?” Friday night is the only night we’re all behind the bar—Con, Patrick, Logan and me. Which means I have the distinct pleasure of watching Logan and Tess flirt with each other all night while I fantasize about murdering him.

“Will you be late?” Jesus, she sounds almost hopeful.

I almost say, oh yeah—it’s baseball season. Time to start fucking your ballplayer again.

Instead I just nod. “I’ll probably end up crashing at Con’s.” He’s not there much since Hen came back for good, so the lie is at least plausible, but she still doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m fucking around on her. As long as it isn’t with Tess she doesn’t care.

“Okay.” She gives me a fake-sweet smile and reaches for the door handle. “I love you.”

No, you don’t.

Thankfully she doesn’t wait to hear if I say it back. She just scrambles out of the car, digging her cell phone out of her purse before I even pull away from the curb.

I go back to Anton’s.

When I walk in, he comes out from behind a curtain with a small flourish like a magician, a smile on his face. As soon as he sees me his smile wavers. “If you’re here to complain about the way I treated Miss Jessica—”

“What? No.” I shake my head and shove my hands into my pockets. “I’m here to buy the dress.” When all he does is stare at me, I clarify. “The red dress. The one Tesla Castinetti was trying on.”

Anton laughs at me like I just told him I needed a place to park my spaceship. “That dress is a size zero. No matter how much she wants to be, Miss Jessica is not—”

“It’s not for Jessica.” I push it out through clenched teeth. Buying a dress shouldn’t be so goddamned hard. “I’d like to buy it for Tess.”

Now he’s looking at me like I just pulled a gun on him. “That dress is thirty-five hundred dollars.” When I don’t finch or tell him he’s obviously on drugs, his shoulders relax. “It’s hand-sewn. Made of imported—”

“I don’t care if you cobbled it together out of magic beans and a jockstrap,” I tell him, reaching into the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet. “Just wrap it up.” I pull out my Amex and hold it out to him, giving it a little jiggle when he hesitates.

Stepping closer, Anton takes my card before scooting behind the front counter. “She’ll need shoes and…” He looks down to punch a few buttons on the credit card machine. “undergarments.”

Undergarments.

He means lingerie.

“Okay.” I nod like he didn’t just nearly inspire a cardiac event with a single word. “Whatever she needs.”

Jesus Christ. What am I doing? First I corner her at Benny’s and now I’m buying her panties?

“Would you like to see our selection?” He looks up at me. “Maybe choose a few—”

Fuck yes, I do. The thought of her wrapped in silk and lace that I bought of her, I picked out, I touched is enough to make me a little light-headed. “No.” I shake my head and hold out a hand like he’s trying to offer me drugs. Which he kinda is. “I don’t want to see any of it—” yes you do, you fucking liar. “You know her sizes and what will look best. You pick it out.”

Now he’s smirking at me like he can read my mind. “Of course, Mr. Gilroy.”

I snatch my card out of his hand and jam it back into my wallet, while fighting the urge to wipe that smug look off his face. The fact that he’s as old as Methuselah makes it marginally easier to keep my hands to myself. Instead of choking him I shove my wallet back into my pocket. “Do you deliver?”