When I mention that to Cass, she just shrugs. “Maybe they’re going for authenticity?”

“Maybe, but I’m not. Veto.”

From a few racks over, Jackson looks up. “Don’t I get a say?”

“Absolutely not.”

We’re spending Saturday morning doing our Halloween shopping. Right now, we’re in Burbank at a consignment store that sells mostly old costumes from various television shows. I don’t know what show that came from, but it wasn’t that classic sixties sitcom.

“It’s Halloween,” Jackson says. “I think a harem girl is a great idea.”

“You just want to see me half-naked.”

“It’s expedient,” he says. “Less to deal with once I get you home.”

“Goodness, Mr. Steele.” Cass fans herself. “How you make a girl blush.”

“Cassidy, I may not have known you for long, but from what I can tell, there’s very little that makes you blush.”

She looks at me. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or impressed with how astute he is.”

“Impressed,” I assure her. “Definitely impressed.”

A few more moments pass, and then Jackson calls me over. “What do you think?” He is holding up a tiny pink cowboy hat and a matching tiny pink denim jacket.

“I’m petite,” I say, “but that’s toddler size.”

“Thanks for the tip. I was thinking about Ronnie.”

“Oh!” I’m now with the program. I think of the dark-haired little girl I’ve seen only in a photograph. “I think she’d be darling in it, but Halloween’s just a week away. In my experience, parents usually have toddler costumes lined up about eight months before the blessed event.”

“In that case, it can just be for dress up. At any rate, it’ll be fun to give it to her tomorrow. She loves presents.”

“Who doesn’t? But what’s tomorrow?”

“She’s still in town with Megan—they don’t leave until Monday. I invited the two of them to the fund-raiser,” he says, referring to the open house and charity auction for the Stark Children’s Foundation. Jackson decided to serve out his community service there, and his time starts tomorrow. “There’s a petting zoo and Ronnie is crazy for animals. What?” he adds, obviously confused by my growing smile.

I shrug. “It’s not every man who’d invite his friends to his community service.”

Jackson chuckles. “I’m not every man.”

“No,” I agree. “You definitely aren’t.”

“Plus, I thought it would be a good time for you to meet them.”

“Yeah?” I pull him in for a kiss, which he enthusiastically returns before taking the pink toddler outfit to the counter and asking the clerk to hold it while we continue shopping.

“And what about you?” Jackson asks Cass as he heads toward the men’s racks.

“Oh, now that Zee and I broke up, I’m back to my regular costume. I wear it every year,” she explains.

“You should mix it up,” I say.

“What costume?” Jackson is looking between the two of us, clearly intrigued.

“Straight girl,” we say in unison, and he laughs.

“I wear a skirt and a blouse and I ogle the men. It’s hilarious.”

“Fair enough. But if you don’t need a costume, why’d you come shopping with us?”

“What? And miss the chance to help that one pick out something seriously hot?” She points to me, then holds up her hands in a gesture of self-defense as Jackson raises his brows. “For your enjoyment only, of course. I’ll be ogling the straight boys, remember?” She flutters her eyelashes, clearly working hard to look innocent.

She turns to me. “Speaking of, why don’t you convince him to go as Superman? Man of Steel, right? And I have a feeling he’d look seriously fine in tights.”

Jackson laughs. “Ogling men. Me in tights. Are you certain you’re gay?”

She snorts. “Just because I don’t want to sample the merchandise doesn’t mean I don’t recognize quality when I see it.” She turns to face me. “You appreciate a woman’s tits, right?”

“I am so not having this conversation.” I look to Jackson for help, but he only shrugs.

“Don’t look at me. I definitely appreciate a woman’s tits.”

“Careful or I will make you wear tights.” I slide into his arms and rise up on my toes to kiss him. “And you know I can be very persuasive.”