“Do you think I don’t know your name?” I asked gently.
She lifted a shoulder, but still wouldn’t give me her eyes. “I guess I never said it, so it’s not your fault.”
I moved into her line of vision, frowning at her. “We’ve hung out multiple times, been friends for over a month, and all this time, you’ve believed I don’t know your name?”
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal.” She started to walk away, but I caught her bicep, whipping her back around. “Adam…”
I pinned her in place with a hard stare that conveyed how much I wasn’t playing with her. “Adelaide, if youeverhang out with a man who doesn’t know your name and can’t be bothered to find it out, we’re going to have words. My Baddie doesn’t think so little of herself she’d give up her fucking identity and call it no big deal. Itisa big deal.”
Her rainbow lips parted. “How long have you known my name?” She sounded almost breathless.
“Before I ever met you, Adelaide. Your dad talks about his little girl to everyone.”
Adelaide’s dad, Saul Goodman, owned the record label The Seasons Change was signed to. His former wife—not Adelaide’s mom, but wife number three or four—had been a big fan of TSC, so he’d taken a special interest in us. I’d had several conversations with him, and he’d always managed to drop mentions of his daughter.
When I’d met her the first time, I’d had to look away. I’d slotted her right into the platonic category. First, she was Saul’s daughter. Second, she was too young for me to contemplate. And third, while I found her outrageously gorgeous, she wasn’t my type.
The truth was, only the first reason actually mattered.
“But you…call me Baddie. And you never acted like you remembered me, so I assumed…”
I tugged her closer. She wasn’t getting it. “How long were you going to let this go on?”
She licked her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
“What’s your middle name?”
“Zala.”
With my knuckle, I tipped her chin up. “You’re Adelaide Zala Goodman. No one forgets you. If they do, they can go fuck themselves because they aren’t worthy of being in your presence. I call you Baddie because it rhymes with Addie and youarea baddie. If you don’t like it, if you want me to call you Adelaide or Addie, I will. Just say the words.”
Adelaide sucked in a breath. “I like when you call me Baddie. Especially now that I know you remembered my name.”
Rubbing my thumb along her chin, I shook my head. “I can’t believe you let me hang out here when you thought I genuinely didn’t know your name. I shook your damn hand at your dad’s last party, Adelaide. Do you think you’re forgettable?”
She caught my hand in hers, removing it from her face. Which was good. I needed to keep my hands to myself. Being tactile and flirty was my natural state, but lines needed to stay clear here. I liked Adelaide way too much to let them blur.
“To be honest, no one’s ever forgotten me before.” Her head dropped, but not before I spotted her sheepish grin.
“No, I don’t suppose they have.” Index finger to her forehead, I raised her head back up. “Now,Adelaide, I think we should try making cookies again. If we’re gonna be friends—and we are, no arguments—I need you to up your baked goods game.”
That made her giggle. “Oh really? Are baked goods a friendship requirement?”
I rubbed my hands together. “Hell yes. And I happen to make a mean chocolate chip cookie.”
Her eyes flared with amusement. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”
So, I spent my evening baking cookies and drinking beer with Adelaide Zala Goodman—and I had absolutely no regrets. Not a fucking one.