Page 9 of The Little Black Book

“What? Seriously?” she asks with wide eyes before sucking the chocolate frosting from her fingertips.

“Why do you look so shocked? If I remember correctly, you were all for it and pretty much bullied me into agreeing.”

“Oh, please. I know you just agreed to get him to stop trying to guilt you into doing it,” she says, waving a hand in the air.

“And to stop the bullying,” I add, arching a brow.

“Don’t put this on me,” she says. “And don’t look at me with evil eyes like that. I get enough of that from your brother. It’s creepy.”

She shivers, and a chuckle barks out of me. Zeke and I have light hazel eyes, but the shade seems to shift to more gold when we’re angry or intent on something. Ava calls it our “evil eyes,” and reacts this way every time Zeke gives her a hard stare.

“So, yeah. Date night Friday night, and I get to sit nearby like a creeper and figure out what Sam’s doing wrong.”

“Sounds fun,” Ava says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I should make you come with me,” I say, my spine stiffening. “This is partly your fault for goading me into agreeing in front of everyone.”

“Oh, would you look at the time?” she says loudly, staring at her naked wrist like there’s a watch strapped around it. “I have to get to work. Toodles!”

She spins around and tosses her trash into the receptacle before breezing through the door and out into the warm morning sunshine. It’s technically autumn, but October in Vegas feels like summer in the rest of the country.

I shake my head and turn just in time to catch Zeke in the doorway to the kitchen, his gaze locked on Ava through the glass windows. When she disappears from sight, he takes a breath, then meets my eyes. I lift my eyebrows in question, but he just shakes his head and vanishes back into his domain.

Interesting.

Another rush of customers flows in, and I forget about Ava and Zeke’s strange behavior. My customers are smiling and satisfied, our profits are up for the seventh year in a row, and I have the best friends and family a girl could ask for.

Life is good.

As soon as the morning rush slows and Zeke and I start prepping for closing time, thoughts of Sam and his date start running through my mind again. I’m a little nervous, actually.

I don’t want to fuck this up for Sam. He’s counting on me to help him out, and he deserves to be happy. What if I suck at this and can’t figure out what the problem is? What if I’m not subtle enough, and his date realizes I’m spying and makes a scene? Sam would definitely not get a second date, and my blunder could cost him his future happiness.

“Stop it, Zoey,” I breathe, forcing the panicked thoughts out.

This isn’t that fucking serious. I need to stop being so dramatic. If any of these women are meant to be with Sam, they will be. I just need to keep my head down and listen, and none of them will even know I’m there.

Hell, this girl he’s seeing on Friday could be the one, things could go great, and my job will be done. No more wing-woman. Sam will be happily involved, and I’ll be…

What? Free to do my own thing on random weeknights while he’s out falling in love? Why does that make me so…sad?

“What’s wrong with you?”

A yelp squeals out of me as I jump a foot into the air. Slapping a palm to my chest, I breathe through my open mouth until I manage to calm myself.

“Jesus, Zeke. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he says, a small lift of one corner of his mouth belying the apology. “You were cleaning that same spot on the counter for like fifteen minutes, so I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Make sure I’m okay by giving me a heart attack?” I snipe, tossing the rag I’d been using at his face.

He dodges it easily with a laugh, one hand snaking up to snatch it from the air. Tossing it aside, he gives me a warm smile.

“I’ve got this if you want to count the register so you can head out.”

My gaze shoots up to the clock on the wall. It’s twelve-fifteen. My eyebrows rocket up, and when I look toward the front door, I see it’s locked and the closed sign is in place. I feel my face heat as I glance back at Zeke.

“I guess I really was out of it,” I say, stuttering out a chuckle.

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