Cadence burst out laughing. “You read the Bible for smut?”
Avery giggled. “My freaking Kindle’s broken. I can’t access any of my go-to books.”
“Oh my God. You’re like the only Christian I know who’s going to hell.”
“Nope. You’re coming right along with me, sister,” Avery said, her eyes sparkling. “Sex outside of marriage. Bad, bad girl.” She shook her head.
“Yeah, well this bad bad girl is gonna be late for work if she doesn’t leave now,” Cadence said.
“I’m still spending the night next Friday, right?”
Cadence nodded as she gathered her bags.
“Thank God,” Avery said. “I need to get out of that house.”
“Oh, I have a whole fun girls’ night planned for us,” Cadence replied.
“Won’t Mr. Connelly be there?”
“I’m making him hide in our bedroom. Actually, I think he’ll prefer to hide.”
Avery grinned. “Just as long as he buys us booze first.”
Cadence laughed. “You’re so bad.”
“Cadence, don’t you realize how awesome it is that you’re dating a 28-year-old? You probably drink it up all the time, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Shoot. I would. I’d probably be an alcoholic by now.”
“Are you coming or what?” Cadence asked. She hovered over the table waiting for Avery to pack her bag.
“No. I’m gonna stay here and study for a while,” Avery replied.
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” Cadence said. She turned and started walking, then paused at the sound of Avery’s voice.
“Cadence!”
She turned around. “Yeah?”
Avery smiled. “You’re the only one who really gets me.”
Cadence smiled back.
“Just wanted you to know that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Cadence nodded, then left for work.
“Will you calm down?” Mark asked, stirring the sauce.
Cadence flitted about the kitchen in a frenzy—taste-testing the lemonade she made, pulling plates from the cupboard.
“Where are those cloth napkins I just bought?” she asked.
“We need cloth napkins? This is Dylan we’re talking about,” Mark replied. He rolled his eyes.
“Yeah. And his girlfriend. I’ve never met her.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t care about cloth napkins.”
“Just tell me where I put them!” Cadence demanded.
Mark turned around and looked at her. She was wrapped in the same black apron she always wore since the first time they cooked together. This time, however, she wasn’t naked underneath. Her hair was pinned back, and it made her look older. He knew that was her goal—a mature look for what she concocted in her brain was supposed to be a mature dinner. She’d hung out with Dylan several times. He wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about.
“They’re in the pantry,” he said.
He watched her set the table, then turned his attention to the buzzing timer. He pulled the garlic bread from the oven, and she gave him a bread bowl.
“I have a bread bowl?” he asked.
“We have a bread bowl. I bought it the other day,” Cadence replied.
He grinned and said nothing.
The doorbell rang, and Cadence jumped.
“I didn’t light the candles!” she cried, dashing into the living room with a box of matches. “Wait!”
Mark’s hand hovered over the doorknob.
“Cadence, seriously?” he whispered.
“Just wait!” she hissed, moving quickly from candle to candle until all four were lit.
“Now?” he asked.
She ran back to the kitchen, threw away the used matches, and tore off her apron.
“Now, Cadence?!” Mark called from the other room.
She turned the corner and asked, “Do I look okay?”
The doorbell rang a second time.
He ignored the sound and stared at his girlfriend. She was so pretty and flustered and sexy that he thought about opening the door and telling their dinner guests to get lost—that he had business to take care of. And it involved Cadence and a dining room table.
“Beautiful,” he replied and watched her light up. He opened the door, and Dylan shoved past him.
“Dude,” he said, “what the hell took so long?” He hightailed it to the bathroom while his girlfriend stood in the living room, unsure where to put her purse.
Mark had never met her. This was a new girlfriend—one in a long line of them—and he wondered how many weeks she’d hang on before she was replaced. He knew she was a daddy’s girl. Dylan told him that. Dylan told him a lot about her, actually—things she’d be pissed to know he knew.
“Portia,” she said, extending her hand to Mark. He shook it and smiled.
“Mark,” he replied. “And this is my girlfriend, Cadence.”
Cadence waved from the dining room then excused herself to rinse the linguini. Dylan emerged from the bathroom and took Portia’s purse, tossing it onto the couch.
“Hey, Cadence!” he called.
“Hi, Dylan!” Cadence called back.
“Remind me how you two know each other? Is it through Mark?” Portia asked, walking into the dining room.
“Yeah,” Dylan said.
“I met Dylan at his record store,” Cadence said.
“Oh, Mark took you there?” she asked.
Dylan cleared his throat. “He—”