Page 43 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“I’m sorry.” She gets hold of her laughter. “It’s just…what the hell made you think that?”

“Have youseenhim lately?” The guy is practically shitting rainbows.

“Oh, yes, he’s definitely getting some from somewhere.” She flicks some suds on my shirt. Even cleaning up she makes a mess. “But why would you think ofme? I told you I’m not ready for that.”

“But you…”

“But I what?”

I shake my head and get back to drying another dish. “Never mind.”

“No.” She spins around, crossing her sudsy arms and soaking the sides of her shirt. “Spit it out.”

“You said that to me so long ago. Seems like you could be ready since, you know…” God, how do I put it without sounding like a dick?

“Since I’ve slept with other guys?” she finishes for me.

“Well, yeah.” I shrug. Sex seems like “ready.” Then again, sex isn’t something casual for me. “Guess I don’t get it,” I admit.

“It never means anything,” she says, bringing her gaze up to meet mine. “It never has.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah, well…” She shrugs. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“I forgot it.”

“Why do you thinkI’mthe one sleeping with Jace?”

I roll my head back and laugh at myself for even thinking it. “Because you’re happier too. Can’t help but notice it.”

“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully, then turns back around to unplug the sink. Guess she’s washed all she wants to tonight, since there’s still a pile left.

“Can I tell you something without you laughing at me?” she asks, flicking her gaze over her shoulder.

“I make no promises,” I tease.

“I haven’t slept with anyone since the robbery.”

My shock almost causes me to break her favorite coffee mug in the middle of drying it. “Why not?”

“You asked me to do background checks. I’m too lazy for that.”

A small chuckle rises in my throat, but it’s caught somewhere before it truly comes out. I did ask her that, but I was only half serious. I was more or less just trying to get her to stop sleeping with men she barely knew, not only for selfish reasons, but also to protect her heart and her safety.

“But really…?” I press, knowing she has a real answer for me.

“But really,” she says, smile softening, “one-night stands weren’t healing my broken heart. So I had to find other ways to do it.” She slowly whips the towel in my direction. “My method is working. Hence the ‘happy.’ ” Her lips turn up for two seconds before her brow wrinkles and the corners of her mouth drop. “I do miss sex, though.”

I pop out a laugh. “Makes two of us.”

“I’d suggest we help each other out, but you know…”

“I know what?”

“With you, it would mean something.”

“Mean something to you?” I ask, pushing down the ray of hope that’s rising in my chest. “Or to me?”

She pushes back the red-brown hair dangling from her ponytail. “How would I know if it meant something to you?”

What a ludicrous question, so I answer with a somewhat arrogant smile.

“You’d know.”

And I swear I see her pulse jump in her neck, drying up my mouth and making me feel like there’s hope where it shouldn’t be. On second glance, I’m most likely imagining things, and like all other conversation that has the potential to lead this friendship into uncharted territory, it’s chased away by a joke and a shared laugh, and never spoken of again.

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