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“I’m down for a nightcap, if we’re actually talking about nightcaps, if you get my drift.”

My mouth twists in an attempt to contain my amusement. “We’re not talking about nightcaps?”

She stares at me for a moment, blinking a few times. I could seriously drown in those fucking eyes of hers, but when I can no longer hold back my smile, she playfully slaps my arm.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

I snicker before my mood turns serious. “The favour I was going to ask doesn’t involve alcohol or anything else you may have been implying. I wanted to ask, if your boss is inappropriate with you again, would you please consider reporting him?”

She glances to the side, staring off into the dark night. When her gaze moves back to me, she says, “I have a black belt in BJJ, so if he pushes me too far, I have the ability to fuck him up.” She throws a quick left-right combination, grinning as if to prove a point. As impressive as that was, my mind goes straight to the gutter, because my first thought is BJ stands for blow job, but then she adds, “Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.”

“You have a black belt in martial arts?”

She nods. “I also do two kickboxing classes every week, and I run marathons for fun.”

“Of course you do. And who in their right mind runs a marathon for fun?”

“Says the man who teaches Zumba and Pilates daily.”

I wince, realising my mistake. For a second, I forgot I’m supposed to be Brendan, the fitness buff. Apparently, I’m meant to be the kind of person who thinks running twenty-six miles sounds like a good time. News flash … I’m not.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no couch potato either. I wasn’t born with these abs. I have a home gym I use at least four times a week, but I’ve never understood the appeal of voluntarily running for hours.

“There’s a difference between a few hours of Pilates and Zumba and running a marathon,” I say, grinning. “One leaves you feeling energised. The other leaves you questioning every life choice that brought you to the starting line. Why someone would willingly sign up for that kind of suffering is beyond me.”

“Hey,” she says, poking my side. “Stop hating on my marathons, they’re very⁠—”

“Exhausting … torturous,” I finish.

She narrows her pretty eyes. “I was going to say rewarding.”

“Sure you were.”

“They are,” she insists, fighting back a smile. “There’s something satisfying about proving to yourself you can do something you thought was impossible.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“How about we make a deal? I’ll come do your classes, if you agree to run a few kilometres with me sometime.”

“How about we get to know each other better before we start committing to mutual suffering?”

“Someone sounds afraid, if you ask me.”

“Come on another date with me, and we can discuss it further. Negotiating happens to be a favourite pastime of mine.”

Without hesitation, she extends her hand. “Deal.”

Chapter 3

Rose

Brendan’s eyes move from my extended hand to my face. This time, instead of leaving me hanging like he did at the restaurant, he wraps his warm fingers around mine and gives my arm a gentle tug, pulling me closer until my body presses against his.

His free hand comes up to cup the side of my face. “I’d rather seal our deal with a kiss, Rose … like the flower,” he murmurs.

“Okay,” I reply, but it comes out so soft I’m not even sure if he heard me.

I’d noticed him staring at my mouth more than once throughout the night. At first, I thought maybe there was a piece of food on my lip, or lettuce in my teeth, but after I asked and he confirmed there wasn’t, I found myself wondering if this was where we’d end up. Now that it’s actually happening, I’m suddenly not nearly as composed as I’d like to be.