That problem was handled immediately.

After experiencing one of the quickest, most satisfying orgasms of my life, go figure, I gave into the enticing idea of sleep, but tossed around most of the night.

Again, I was baffled. Who passes on this kind of opportunity?

It’s not as if I’ve never been pursued by the men I’ve slept with for the prospect of more. Take clingy Paul, for example. He definitely didn’t want me to dine and ditch his ass the other night. But cases like that have always transpired in the aftermath of sex, not before.

Never before.

Who is this guy?

I empty my mind of that question, of the kiss I shouldn’t be obsessing over as I step inside the bakery.

The chime rings out through the small space.

Joey and Dylan are talking closely behind the counter. Whispering, in fact. They both glance up at the sound of my entrance.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Joey practically sings.

I barely glance in his direction. He’s way too cheery for me right now.

“Hey. They’ve stopped serving that caramel ribbon crunch you like so I got you a macchiato instead. I hope that’s okay.” I set the carrier on the display case and look up at Dylan.

Please be okay. I don’t feel like walking back there.

A soft smile pulls at her mouth as she steps closer. “That’s okay. That’s okay. I’ll drink caramel anything, sweetie. Thank you.”

My brow pinches together in response to the strange tone in her voice, to the nickname.

Sweetie?

“Why do you sound like that? Did someone die?” I ask, looking down at her outfit. Shouldn’t she be in all black? Who wears pastels when they’re in mourning?

Dylan plucks her coffee from the carrier. “No. And how do I sound?”

“Like someone died.”

Joey makes an amused sound in the back of his throat as he reaches for his coffee.

“Nobody died. I heard about last night,” Dylan confesses, leaning her hip against the counter. She looks tragically sorry for me. “All about it. Are you okay? That must’ve been crazy awkward.”

Oh, terrific. That’s why they were whispering.

I glare at Joey, who simply blows me a kiss before taking a sip of his coffee.

Bitch.

I take in a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I tell her, which isn’t necessarily a lie. If she would’ve asked me that question last night or any time before my interaction with Mason this morning, then I’d be lying.

Joey lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re fine? You devoured half a cheesecake last night, Brooke.”

I wince at the memory.

God, I seriously need to get a handle on my sweets consumption during moments of distress. Or, at least eat them discreetly. I publicly tore up that cheesecake like it owed me money.

Shrugging off my pathetic behavior, I grab my coffee and take a sip. “I was hungry. I didn’t have much for dinner. And really, last night wasn’t a big deal. I’m over him.”

I was unfortunately never even under him.

“Oh, well that’s good to know, since there’s a chance he’s about to walk right in here.”

“What?” My head snaps in Dylan’s direction, then toward the front of the shop.

My eyes go round. Mason walks past the large window and reaches for the door. The grip on my coffee tightens.

What the hell is he doing?

“This should be interesting,” Joey murmurs as the chime sounds overhead.

I swallow uncomfortably, nearly choking on my own saliva.

Mason steps inside the shop, his hand now carrying the coffee he obviously went back for. He levels me with a perfectly casual smile, as if he didn’t just have his tongue in my mouth five minutes ago, then immediately notices the other two bodies in the room.

“Ah, it’s good to see ya again, mate. Didn’t catch your name yesterday.”

Joey takes Mason’s hand into a firm shake. “Yeah, you seemed a tad bit distracted with the chick next to me.” He shoots me a quick, cheeky glance, then turns back and jerks his chin. “It’s Joey.”

I smooth down the front of my shirt as the three of them exchange introductions. My cleavage pops out another inch. Completely accidental and not at all done for his benefit.

Mm. Maybe he’ll notice tomorrow when he stops chatting up my friends.

Mason gestures at Dylan’s belly. “When are you due?”

“A month. I’m hoping for sooner though. I’m so sick with this one.”

“This one? Don’t tell me you have more than one already. You look too young to be a mum.”

“Ha!” Dylan’s face lights up. Her hands form to her belly. “Oh, my God. You just became my second favorite male.”

Joey whips his head to the left, his eyes wide with alarm. “Second favorite? Excuse you?”

I cough into my fist, breaking up the gab fest I’m in no way a part of. Three pairs of eyes train on me as I slowly retreat toward the kitchen.

“I guess I’ll just go get to work, since there’s apparently no need for me to hang around up here.”

Mason’s mouth pulls down.

I quickly regret my half-serious remark as his noticeable remorse tenses up his features.

God, why do I even care? And am I seriously irritated that he’s taking a moment to be polite? What is wrong with me?

He takes a few steps in my direction. I halt at the corner of the display case.

Dylan pushes against Joey’s shoulder, urging him to walk. “Come on. I need your help with something in the back.”

“You never need my help,” he snaps, then smiles back at her before the two of them slip into the kitchen, leaving Mason and I alone.

I move my coffee to my other hand. I’m suddenly feeling restless and too hot to drink such a warm beverage.

Mason gives me a lazy smile as he slowly advances. “Little devil. You ran off.”

My feet shift underneath me.

Jesus, his voice. Like honey coating the back of his throat. Sweet and warm. His words slow to leave his tongue.

I force my mouth to close.

Oh, my God. How long was it gaped open for?

Barrier. I need a barrier.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, swiftly moving behind the display case. I set my coffee on the back table and fold my hands neatly on the glass. “Your stalker level is quickly rising, you know. First the coffee shop, now you’re coming to my place of business. Should I alert the authorities yet?”

Mason cocks his head with a curious smirk, then moves to stand directly across from me. “Wait until I find out where you live.”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Relax, gorgeous. I’ll keep it professional, yeah? No house calls until you invite me.”

“Mm.” I cross my arms under my chest. “Don’t hold your breath on that happening.”

He smiles, then tips his cup back, taking a long swig of his coffee. His eyes never leave mine.

To keep myself from staring back like a hungry little fiend, I grab a bakery box and open the display case. My hand closes around a pastry.

He leans over, head tilting down to watch me. “You look cute back there, ready for work. How long have you been doing this?”

“A few years,” I answer, not looking up. “It started out as something temporary. I needed a job after getting fired from my old one and Dylan needed an extra hand during wedding season. I honestly wasn’t expecting to like it as much as I did. But almost immediately everything just seemed to click. I love the artistic side of it. The design process. How everything comes together. I don’t know. It’s not like I’m curing cancer or anything, but cupcakes seem to make people happy. I think happiness is therapeutic.”