"What?" I demanded, needing to learn whatever little scrap of information I could about Mason's coworker. "Why are we delivering Pick a new shirt?"
"I knew it!" She snapped her finger and pointed at me, crowing, "I just knew it. You're totally into him, aren't you? Aren't you? Yes, you are!"
My face flushed as I ground my teeth. "Give me a break," I muttered. "I'm seven and half months pregnant. The last thing I want is any kind of involvement with some guy."
Except maybe that guy. Ugh, why couldn't I get him off my mind? We'd had one brief encounter weeks ago, and that was it.
"I don't know," Reese murmured, tapping her chin idly as she studied me. "Becca said she'd never been so horny in her life as she was when she was pregnant."
I scowled. "Yeah, except there's something seriously wrong with your sister." Though maybe that was my problem. My freaking pregnancy hormones were making me horny. But why had Pick been the only one to set them off?
"He is pretty hot," Reese said as if answering my unspoken question. "I mean, not as hot as Mason. But there's definitely some notable steam rolling off him. The tattoos and piercings make him seem all wild and uncontrollable."
"Whatever," I snapped, sending her an incredulous glower. There wasn't a single thing wild about him. And besides, "He's way hotter than Mason."
Crap, I'd totally just admitted I was attracted to him, something I shouldn't even be thinking about. I didn't want guys on my radar. Even considering men and relationships when I was a little preoccupied with become a single, first-time mother was just plain ridiculous. What was wrong with me?
Reese didn't seem to notice the panic on my face; she was too busy choking on her disagreement. "Not even possible. No one—I mean, no one—is hotter than Mason."
I patted her hand sympathetically. "Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Now, what happened to Pick's shirt?"
I was dying of curiosity over here. Had some female customer ripped it off him? Not that I'd blame her. I was curious to know what he looked like bare-chested, too. He was probably more of a Jake Gyllenhaal lookalike . . . with more tattoos. Yum.
"Well, apparently, your lover boy came to work tonight without knowing he had dried baby puke running down the back of his shirt." When I pulled back in surprise, she arched an eyebrow. "Did you know he had a baby?"
"No." I shook my head, feeling almost betrayed, which made absolutely no sense because I was carrying around thirty extra pounds of my own kid over here. "Keep talking."
She rolled her eyes, but complied. "Anyway, he doesn't have any time to run home and fetch a fresh clean one, so Mason wanted to know if I—but I'm including you in this errand too because I love you and know you want to see him—could grab one of his shirts and speed it down there for his friend to wear."
"Of course, we will." I struggled to get off the couch, feeling like a freaking beached whale that couldn't move as my arms floundered for help.
Reese had mercy and took my hand, tugging me upright.
I smoothed my shirt over my bulging waistline and gave a breathless, "Thanks. I just washed and folded laundry today. I think there's a nice clean shirt sitting at the top of the pile in the basket on the washer."
As I hurried into the hall to fetch it, Reese followed me. "You really do like this guy, don't you?"
With a snort, I snagged the shirt that would soon be pressed up against Pick and brushing against his naked skin. Oh, le sigh. But I kept pretending I wasn't affected for Reese's benefit because frankly, I was still freaked out that I was affected.
"I don't even know him." I just wanted to know everything about him.
She smiled and lifted her eyebrows as we started for the front door. "Oh, don't think I've forgotten how he flirted with you that night. Big time. I mean, 'don't eat those nuts, Tinker Bell. Let me get you a fresh batch.'" When she drew out a dramatic swish of her hair and fanned herself as she tried to imitate what he'd said, I snorted and rolled my eyes.
"You are so lame."
"Whatever. I might've been temporarily preoccupied by wicked bitches from Florida flying in on their broomsticks," Reese went on, "and then getting engaged to Mason, and—oh my God, I still can't believe I'm really engaged. It's really happening, E. Mason and I are getting married."
With a happy squeal, she stuck out her left hand so she could show off the ring I swore she hadn't taken off since Mason had put it on there, probably not even to shower.
"Isn't it just the most beautiful diamond you've ever seen?"
Smiling because she'd so easily become preoccupied away from the Pick-and-I subject, I nodded. "Yes, sweetie. He did good." I opened the door to let her lead the way to the ancient old car she and Mason had bought this week.
I'd be surprised if the clunker lasted a month.