“Chicago.”

“When the fuck did you go to Chicago?”

“About three months ago.”

I ran my hand over my face as I tried to think back three months. Ashlyn never went to Chicago. Three months ago, Lachlan was in town. What the hell was going on? She stood opposite me, biting her lip and looking like she was reliving every moment with this mystery man.

“I then met him again the week after, but he got married and had a little girl.”

“What the fuck?” I gasped. “You slept with a guy who was getting married and who had a little girl? Holy shit, this is insane.”

I paced the kitchen as I tried to comprehend what she’d just admitted. This wasn’t Ashlyn at all. She wasn’t that girl. She would never be the other woman. She had integrity. She had fucking morals.

“They were the best two books I’ve read.”

I froze and whipped around. Ashlyn smirked, and a devious glint flickered in her eyes.

“He will always be one of my top three book husbands.”

“You did not just make me believe that you took a secret trip to Chicago, where you were screwing an accountant called Reese, who was getting married and had a kid?”

“I didn’t make you do anything. I told you I wasn’t interested in cock, so it was you who made the assumption. As if you wouldn’t know that I went to Chicago.”

I stalked across the kitchen and grabbed her. She squealed as I pulled her against my chest and began tickling her side. She completely played me, and I fell for every word. Her high-pitched squeals filled my apartment, and her fits plummeted into my chest as she desperately attempted to make me stop.

“Stop it! I’m sor—sor—sorry,” she finally managed to get out.

I let her go and she stepped back, completely breathless, with flushed cheeks, crazy hair, and glazed eyes.

“I got you so good,” she said. “Book Husbands for the win.”

“So, what? They go straight to husbands? They don’t even reach boyfriend status?” I scoffed.

“Oh, I have book boyfriends, but those three are book husbands.”

“Christ.” I shook my head as I began grabbing plates and dishing out dinner. “I’m going to read one of these books someday. I need to find out about these book husbands of yours.”

“You almost sound jealous, Joshua.”

“Babe, I’ve got a real-life cock that knows how to please a pussy multiple times, and don’t even get me started on what I can do with my mouth. I am certainly not jealous of a fictional character, but that doesn’t mean I won’t learn some tips from these book husbands of yours. Romance really isn’t my thing, so your number one, Reese, might inspire me to lift my game.”

She grabbed the bowl I handed her, then we moved to the living room and sat on the couch. I switched on the television, and we fell into silence as we ate.

“I’ve seen you be romantic before,” she said softly, and her big greens shot to mine. “You were very romantic with me.”

She placed her empty bowl on the coffee table and tucked her feet under her body. This was a conversation that we always seemed to avoid. Yes, we had spoken about our night together, but it was always in jest, or after too many drinks when we were stumbling down a drunken memory lane. I couldn’t even tell you the last time Ashlyn brought it up, so to say I was shocked was an understatement.

“I know romance when it’s with the right woman, and that would be you.”

A brief smile tinted her lips, before she turned back to the television and absentmindedly began watching one of the reality shows she loved.

“Did he ever give you romance?” I asked. I didn’t want to speak of Lachlan, but my curiosity got the best of me.

“At the beginning, yes, but”—she hesitated and pulled her lip between her teeth—“but it never made me feel like I did that night. That was my first taste of romance.”

Her admission was unexpected, and left me speechless. It seemed that the more I thought I knew about Ashlyn, the more she surprised me. This week had the potential to change everything I assumed and replace it with a whole new understanding. That thought alone sent my pulse racing. The secret of wanting her was mine. It was so deep inside of me that it needed to claw itself out, but I was ready to unleash it onto the world and see where it led me.

Sacrificing my happiness had to stop.

Right fucking now.

SETTING UP A BLOG was intense. There was no way I could have predicted the workload I would encounter. My days and often nights were filled with all things Ashlyn’s Closet, but I absolutely loved it. I’d start as soon as Josh left for work, and still be going when he got home at night and yelled out a “hello.” It was only then that I’d stop and spend a few hours on the couch with him before I did it all over again.

“Ashy, are you ready?” Josh’s voice sounded after I heard the apartment door close. I looked down at the time on my laptop and saw that it was just after seven P.M. “I’m going to have a quick shower, and then we’ll be good to go.”

Moments later, I heard the shower turn on, and I continued tapping away at emails. He was obviously going out for the night, although I was unsure what it had to do with me. Ten minutes later, I heard the shower shut off and then Josh’s bedroom door close. When it opened again, I finished an email and closed my laptop, then I climbed off the bed, deciding to be a sociable house guest and see where he was going.

Josh was sitting on the couch with wet hair, and dressed in jeans and a black, button-down shirt. I was immediately hit by the seductive scent combination of his soap and aftershave. He leaned down to tie the laces of his shoes as I stepped further into the living room.

“Hey,” I said with a smile. He looked delightfully dressed up for a night out, while I was sporting the uniform of my glorious work-from-home life—my favorite sweat pants and cami, with my hair in the usual topknot. “You want a beer?”

“Have you suddenly lost your short-term memory?” he replied with a wicked grin.

My confusion soared sky high. What was he talking about? I popped open the cap of my beer and took a swig, then raised a brow and waited for him to inform me of what I had supposedly forgotten.

“It was less than twelve hours ago that I told you that I would show you a good time. To be honest, I’m a little heartbroken that you forgot, but I’ll remind you. Ashlyn, it would be my pleasure to show you a good time.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at the craziness and obvious innuendo of his statement. “Do those lines really work?”

“Wouldn’t know. Only said that to you, Ashy. Please take your cute little ass into the bathroom and change out of your sweats. You look cute as fuck, but I want you in those jeans that make your legs look like sin. I am showing you a good time and, if you are lucky, you might get a sneaky kiss at the end of the night.”

“What?” I laughed at his absurdness. “There will be no sneaky kisses. You have clearly lost your mind.”

“Not even a peck?” His brow shot up in question.

“I’m not promising anything, but maybe, if you’re lucky, you might get a kiss on the cheek.”

“Butt cheek?”

“You are impossible.” I took a step away and shook my head. He couldn’t be serious. I didn’t need to be shown a good time, especially by Josh Crawford. And why the hell was he talking about a sneaky kiss? There would definitely not be any kissing. But fuck, I missed making out. I had always been a huge fan of making out. It got me going every time. If a guy wanted in my pants, he had a better chance if he kissed the shit out of me. I missed the roughness of kissing a man—the graze of stubble, the domination. Why was I thinking of this? There was no way in hell I was going out with him; not when I just floated into fantasy land of making out.