It isn’t Brooke. The woman calling might’ve threatened castration if I would’ve pulled that stunt with her.

I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey. How are ya?”

Tessa grunts. “Finally! Someone answers the damn phone today. Sweet Christ, I’m going batshit crazy listening to these transcripts and I need a reason to not listen to them.” A loud crunch comes through the line. “Humor me. What’s new? What happened with that one chick who definitely does not have bigger balls than me?”

I chuckle, my eyes searching for Brooke. “You know, I should be offended you’re only calling me to get out of working. You’re a terrible mate.”

“Hey, screw you. I should be offended you left the best fucking state in this beautiful country to be all adult and open up your own business, but I’m not, ‘cause that would be shitty of me. Even though I still don’t understand why you couldn’t open up your own studio here. ‘Bama girls love yoga.”

We share a light laugh. I know of one particular ‘bama girl who doesn’t care for yoga one bit.

“How’s all that going anyway?” she asks.

“Good. Yeah, really good. It’s a bit shocking, actually. I might have to consider tacking on another class during the day if interest stays this fortunate.”

“Mason, you’re a great teacher, and you look like a male model. I’m sure your interest stays plenty fortunate.”

“We’ll see.” I smile, rubbing my mouth. “So, yeah, this woman I mentioned, Brooke.” At the mere utterance of her name, something catches in the center of my chest, warming my blood. My mouth twitches. “We’ve been seeing a bit of each other and it’s been great. I’m quite fond of her.”

“Yeah?” Tessa takes another bite of whatever it is she’s eating. “You two serious?”

“Serious?” I repeat, considering the word.

My answer is simple.

In my mind, we are. I have never been anything less with Brooke, and I don’t relish the idea of it. She is quickly becoming a beautiful constant in my life.

Wake up thinking about her.

Go through the day, counting down the minutes until I can pop in her shop for a quick visit.

Pass out and welcome some of the filthiest dreams I’ve ever had, all featuring her sweet face and sinful body.

But if asked this question, how would Brooke answer? I know how this thing started out, her casual plans for me, but how does she see us now?

I rub at my neck. “I’m serious about her. She’s bloody fantastic, and the only woman I care to be around.”

“And how does she feel?”

“Lovely.”

There’s a brief pause. “Jesus,” Tessa laughs. “That’s not what I meant. Though I’m impressed you went dirty before I did. Not many people beat me to the punch. Bravo.”

I look up and spot Brooke walking toward me on the path. Her hand lifts with a cute little wave, and I grin. “She’s warming up to me. I’m meeting with her now so I’m sorry to say you’ll have to return to work. I’ll keep you posted on my developments. Tell everyone I said hi, yeah?”

“Jerk,” she mumbles, then giggles quietly. “Yeah, I’ll tell them. And let me know when you decide Chicago blows and need some help looking for apartments back here. I’ll be all over it.”

I stand from the bench. “Goodbye, Tessa.”

“Later.”

Disconnecting the call, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and continue watching Brooke moving toward me.

Her cream-colored, short-sleeved blouse dips low in the front, courtesy of several unfastened buttons. Dark jeans fit to her curves. And on her feet, a pair of gray flats.

Those pink heels she likes to wear are sexy as fuck, but I might like her in flats better. When I pull her close and fit our bodies together, she’s the perfect height for me to rest my chin on top of her head.

“Hey. You made it.” She places her hand to my chest, offering me her cheek. She knows that’s where I’m heading.

I fucking love that she knows that.

“I almost called to remind you,” she adds, smirking.

“I told you I’d be here.” I bend for a kiss and then motion for her to have a seat. Sliding the sandwich bag into my lap, I hold out the to-go box for her to take.

She studies the label on the top of the box, then slowly eases it from my hands.

“You went to Rosie’s,” she states through a soft laugh. “You know I’ve only ever been there for breakfast? I have no idea what their lunch menu looks like.”

It wouldn’t matter, I think, smiling to myself.

I dig my sandwich out of my bag, keeping my gaze in my lap. “Lots of sandwiches and soups. A few salads. Typical lunch stuff.” I peel away the wrapper to reveal the top piece of rye bread.

A soft gasp perks in my ear, followed by cardboard creasing. “Oh, my God, Mason. This is impossible. How did you get them to make you this? They stop serving breakfast at ten-thirty!”

I glance over at her, watching as she lifts the box to her face and inhales.

She makes a soft, moaning sound in the back of her throat as her eyes fall closed. The wind picks up, blowing her hair off her shoulder.

I stare at neck, her dimple, the adorable wrinkle in her nose as she practically submerges her face in that box.

She turns and bumps our knees together. “Mason.”

“What?” I casually ask, taking a bite of my sandwich and finally meeting her eyes. “Oh, do you like that kind of French toast? It’s a bit odd, yeah? With the cereal? I wasn’t sure you would like it.” I pull a set of wrapped plastic silverware out of my pocket and hold it out.