Page 80 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

Not because of sex.

Sex is… physical. Contained. It happens and ends.

A date is intention, and forward motion.

My jaw tightens before I can stop it.

“You asking permission?” I ask.

“I’m telling you first. That’s why I haven’t done it yet, I was trying to find the right way to tell you.” He laughs mirthlessly. “I don’t think I did a very good job, but…”

I look past him toward the open bay door, at the evening light bleeding in and the long shadows stretching across the concrete.

Weeks.

It’s been weeks since we spent that night together.

We operate around it, but it’s a live wire in the room.

I leave early for work, and she keeps a careful distance in the kitchen. We’re polite, professional, controlled.

And every time she laughs with Evan, my insides loosen and tighten at the same time.

I could tell Fletcher no, it’s inappropriate. She works for me, and that complicates things.

I could use any of that.

But the truth is uglier.

If I say no, it won’t be about professionalism; it’ll be about jealousy, and I don’t get to cage her because I lack discipline.

“You care about her?”

Fletcher doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

I nod slowly. “She’s good with Evan.”

“She is.”

“And she deserves…” I stop myself.

Deserves what?

Not me.

Not a man who builds walls and calls it stability, someone who measures every emotional risk as a liability.

“She deserves honesty,” Fletcher finishes quietly.

I huff once. “You planning on giving her that?”

“Yes.”

Silence again.

The shop feels smaller.

“Okay,” I say finally.