Cam reached out and sent the pencil holder skittering over the surface of the desk, pens scattering, before it thunked to the floor.

Whitney jerked her head to look at it, then back to him.

“What was that?”

“I’m going to—”

His phone started ringing.

And he was jerked back to reality and how this was all way friendlier than he’d intended to be.

The phone kept ringing.

He sighed.

He thought about ignoring it, but he couldn’t. The ring tone was the theme song for Magnum, P.I. The original, of course.

Whitney started laughing. “You gave her her own ring tone?”

Yeah, the moment was gone.

He grinned as he reached for his back pocket. “Of course.” He swiped to answer and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Didi.”

“I’m ready to go,” she announced. “It’s almost time for yoga.”

It was, indeed. He looked at Whitney. Then at Whitney’s lips. Then at Whitney’s yellow panties. Then at the pencil holder on the floor. Then back to the panties. Dammit.

“We need to stop at the store on the way home too,” she said. “I told Maggie I’d bring salad and I need lemons for my lemon vinaigrette. Don’t forget.”

He grinned in spite of being cock-blocked by a seventy-two-year-old. “Got it.” Didi might have her times mixed up and she might forget things once in a while, but she didn’t forget everything. She and Maggie had talked about that salad three days ago. “I’m on my way.”

“Hurry up.” Then she hung up on him.

Grinning, he looked at Whitney. Holy hell, she looked so hot with her blouse pulled loose from her skirt and her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed. “I need to go.”

Whitney was watching him with a strange expression. It was part amused and part puzzled and part affectionate, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“This is all so… weird,” she said.

It was. And a little terrible, he thought, as she slid off the desk and smoothed her skirt down.

“It’s all good,” he told her.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “It seems to be.”

“So go, kick some more ass and I’m going to go… relax and meditate with some kittens.” He grinned and stepped back.

Immediately he missed the feel of her body heat and her scent.

“Okay.” She stood watching him for a moment. Then she stepped close and pressed her lips to his again.

The high heels put her at the perfect height.

Screw it.

He cupped the back of her head and tasted her deeply for a moment.

When they separated they were both breathing a little harder again.

Whitney licked her lips. “See you later.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at the pens scattered over her desk. “Sorry about the pencil holder.”

She let out a little sigh. “Worth. It.”

He grinned. He didn’t know what was going on with them exactly. But he knew that his feelings were real and they were growing and he fucking liked everything about how things were between them.

Except there wasn’t nearly enough naked time.

That was his fault. Well, maybe not fault. That was his doing. And he didn’t regret it. If he’d been sleeping with Whitney this whole time, it would have been hard to separate loving having her in his bed and making her want him again and just… loving her.

It hit him hard.

It had been teasing around the edges of his consciousness for a while now. Like when he’d realized that she maybe really had loved him even as an eighteen-year-old kid and that he maybe hadn’t actually felt the same way. But now it was clear. He’d fallen back in love with her. In the midst of 3 a.m. viewings of Magnum, P.I. and baking cookies and watching her bloom and seeing her have quiet, happy moments with her grandmother because she wasn’t stressed and pressed for time and weighed down by a million other things. Like guilt.

It was ironic that it was Hot Cakes that had brought them back together, but here they were and it felt good. Right.

Giving into the urge, he leaned in and kissed Whitney once more. Just a quick, sweet kiss on the lips, then he looked at her with the knowledge that he’d see her at home later. And maybe they could sneak in some quiet time before Magnum, P.I.

Whitney took a deep breath as she pulled her phone out and stared at the screen.

She never did this.

Never.

It was completely foreign territory.

Her phone was used for emails and the occasional call when she was away from her desk and pulling up her boarding pass when she was traveling.

She almost never texted.

And she never texted like this.

She wasn’t even sure she was going to do it right.

She swallowed. But she really wanted to.

Opening her contacts, she scrolled to the one she needed and pulled up the number. Then she typed, I got done early today and I’d love to just have some fun tonight. Are you up for something?

She stared at the words.

Then she frowned.

And typed, This is Whitney, by the way.

Then she sat and waited. And wondered if she should have said something else. Or said it differently. Was that enticing at all? Was it stupid? Is this how people started this stuff?

Finally, after about four years—or maybe about two minutes—she saw the little dots dancing, indicating she was going to get a response.

LOL. I know it’s you! And dammit! I’m so sorry! I’ve got plans.

Whitney felt her heart drop to her stomach. But she forced herself to actually smile, even though Piper couldn’t see it, as she typed back. No worries! Of course you do. This is really last minute. Sorry!

Don’t be sorry! Piper replied. I love that you’re done early! That’s awesome! I would love to do something but I’m… out at the alpaca farm.

Whitney paused with her thumbs over the keys and reread that. Piper was at the alpaca farm? As in Drew Ryan’s farm? Uh-oh.

We were going to talk about all of this, she finally typed back, suddenly feeling less silly about texting Piper for an impromptu girl’s night. Her nerves about asking a girlfriend out for drinks—something she’d literally never done before—disappearing in light of her concern over Piper getting cozy with Drew. Drew Ryan was a great guy. Good looking, kind, funny, successful. But… he wasn’t Ollie.

Whitney couldn’t explain it any better than that.

Ollie was a handful. She knew that. Especially for Piper. But he seemed to be Piper’s handful. He was Cam and Grant and Aiden and Dax’s handful too, but there was something about Ollie and Piper that just seemed to click. And Whitney knew that Ollie had feelings for Piper. He just wasn’t good at showing that. Or maybe even admitting it.

But she was rooting for them. And Drew Ryan would be fine. He could have just about any woman in Appleby. Drew wasn’t lonely, that was for sure. He didn’t need Piper.

We were going to talk about it, Piper replied. And we will. Promise.

Whitney felt terrible suddenly.

She and Piper had had a moment in the conference room earlier. A moment Whitney never had with other women. That moment of silent understanding that said I’ve got you, girl. Piper was like the little sister at Fluke and the guys all cared about her. It was obvious. But they were guys. And Piper had moved here from Chicago with them. Or because of them. She wasn’t from here and probably didn’t know many people. Piper maybe needed a girlfriend as much as Whitney did.