“Friends don’t not tell friends about hot guys, Ellie. You know this.”
“You’re right. They don’t,” I say, looking at him. “But we aren’t friends anymore.”
He grins. “Does this mean I can make a play at your lover?”
“How hard would it have been for you to pretend to be going on a date with me?” I ask, ignoring his jab at a reaction.
“Hard,” he says, making a face. “Besides, I feel like if I had done that, Mr. Landry would’ve either pummeled my handsome face, and let’s face it, I would not look good with a crooked nose. Or he would’ve kept you from the cock.”
I look at the ceiling. “Where is Violet when you need her?”
Heath plops on a barstool at the island and stretches his long, skinny legs out. I don’t look at him.
“Don’t ignore me,” he demands.
“I hate you,” I laugh.
“No, you don’t,” he says, laughing too. “Now, let’s talk about what matters.”
“Okay. I need to figure out the best things to put in the window displays. We’re looking to attract a customer that—”
“No. No, no, no,” he says. “Let’s talk about whatever I walked into today.”
“You didn’t walk into anything.”
“There were feels everywhere. I may be gay, but I’m not blind, honey.”
I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe in his overly expensive cologne. “Why do you always smell so good?”
“Because I have exquisite taste. Landry Love falls in that category, so spill it, sister.”
“He was my first love. My first . . . everything.”
“Like, everything-everything?”
“It was in a hayloft,” I remember. “I was scared to death. He was so easy with me, so sweet. It wasn’t some planned thing. We were just sitting there, looking at the stars and . . .”
Heath sighs happily. “And I’m guessing you had a mini-replay of that today?”
“Yeah,” I giggle. “Kind of. I mean, it was so much better, obviously, but you get the idea.”
“I do and I have so many questions.”
“None of which I’m about to answer, Breckenmeir.”
“Answer me this,” he says, shrugging his shoulder so I have to sit up. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Are you together?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I look at my nails and wonder when I had a manicure last.
“I’m waiting,” he needles me.
“I could easily lose myself in him.”
“Sounds like a great plan.”