He grimaced and glanced behind the counter where his dad had come up front to take over the register.

  Sometimes he wondered just how the two had ended up together. His mom was a beautiful, vivacious black woman with a cheerful personality for days. His dad had been born into a conservative white family, bordered on shy, and was pragmatic to the max.

  Yet, he’d never seen two people more in love, and Reggie was the biracial result of the two. He’d gotten his tall height, work ethic, and glasses from his dad, and the friendliness and charm from his mom.

  “Maybe you should stop worrying about my love life, and maybe see what’s up with Joy’s?”

  His mom tilted her head and harrumphed. “Your sister is researching what it would take to open a second Sugar Me Sweet somewhere over on the Olympic peninsula.”

  He paused mid-sip of coffee. “Really?”

  What was more surprising? That his sister was going to open a second bakery or that she was going to move across the water?

  It was probably only two or three hours away, but dang, the family had always lived within a few miles of each other.

  “Yes. So I’m giving her a break for now.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Reginald, I want some grandbabies.”

  Oh Lord, she was breaking out the full name.

  “You and every other mother of a certain age. Slow down.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I know you didn’t just call me old.”

  “Tell me more about this second bakery,” he deflected. “You’re cool with that? Expanding?”

  “It’s family expanding our bakery. We’re not becoming a franchise. Joy knows this business and our recipes inside out. She’ll do right by us.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  His mom stood and planted a hand on her hip, glancing at the door Amber had walked out of.

  “Well, my vote is for you to ask Amber out. That girl is tough, sweet, and pretty.”

  “This isn’t a reality contest show, Mama. My love life is not up for public vote.”

  “If it was, you’d be married by now,” his mom muttered, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I gotta get back to work. Love you, son.”

  With his mom clearly ready to marry him off the first chance she got, he wasn’t sure if this made him want tonight to work out with Nicole or not.

  This time tomorrow? He’d probably know either way.

  *

  “What am I even doing?”

  Amber stared at herself in the mirror and had second thoughts about tonight’s plans. Scratch that . . . make it third or fourth thoughts.

  She skimmed a glance over herself from head to toe and flushed.

  After a shower where she’d washed and shaved pretty much everything, she’d picked out something fun to wear.

  While she hadn’t picked out a tit top, as Tara has encouraged, she’d found something that was probably just as sexy.

  The red tank-style bodycon dress conformed to her curves, leaving no secret as to her shape.

  Her breasts weren’t big, but they weren’t small either. Which left her in the average territory. The round neckline was low enough that the tops of her breasts peeked out, thanks to the plunge bra she wore.

  Her stomach was toned, and her thighs and legs were strong and muscled as well.

  All part of the job.

  She had to be strong to do what she did. To hold her own in what still was a male-dominated field. A bikini-ready body had never been her goal. Keeping up with the guys was.

  Sometimes, her body left her a little self-conscious when she was out trying to date. More than once a guy had mentioned how she was buffer than he was.

  Usually in a passive-aggressive way. To where she always wondered if they expected her to apologize. Which was weird, and screw that. Those guys never got a second date.

  Maybe that’s another reason she was drawn to Reggie. She was thirsty, and he was one tall, big-muscled glass of water.

  “Stop thinking about Reggie.” She pointed a finger at her reflection in the mirror. “He may be water, but tonight, you’re drinking vodka tonics.”

  She turned away from the mirror and found her pair of platform sandals that added a few inches to her five-foot-five frame.

  Not bad, not bad.

  Now it was time for some hair and makeup, because if she was going to do this tonight . . . she was going to do this.

  Okay, maybe doing her hair was a bit of an exaggeration. She wasn’t the type who knew how to do lots of trendy styles. But she ended up flat-ironing it and pulling a bunch of chunks back with cute little butterfly clips.

  It was pretty much a throwback ’90s style she adored, but could only pray she pulled off.

  Now the makeup part? She was a bit better at that.

  By the time Tara texted her from the parking lot, she was ready.

  Amber pulled a small crossbody purse on—it was just big enough for her phone and some cards/ID—and made her way out the door.

  “Wow.” Tara’s jaw slipped before she made a show of physically pushing it back up. “I’m glad you’re only after the guys tonight, or I’d be worried about my competition right now.”

  Amber laughed, climbing into her friend’s car. “Even if I were into the girls, I wouldn’t stand a chance next to you. You’ve never had a hard time picking up women. Lesbian, bi, or straight.”

  “Nope. I don’t touch the straight ones.” Tara grimaced and thrust her fingers through her short hair. “Way too much drama if they’re not out yet.”

  “Fair enough. Where are we going?”

  Tara named a club in downtown that Amber hadn’t heard of, but she trusted her friend to make good calls, so she nodded.

  By the time they arrived, there was already a line out the door. And it wasn’t even ten.

  “Can we get in here?”

  “We can get in.” Tara’s words were so confident, so quick, that Amber cast her a sidelong glance.

  Her friend must know someone who works here.

  By the time they parked and made their way to the line, the bouncer had already spotted them and waved her and Tara in.

  “Nice.” Amber cast her friend an impressed look. “Look at you with your connections.”

  The sound of house music greeted them, along with the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

  “Drink first? Or dance?” Tara yelled.

  Amber glanced at everyone dancing again. The rhythmic thumping of the music switched to an old David Guetta song and her blood started pounding.

  Never one to need liquid courage, she nodded toward the people.

  “I think I’m going to get my heart rate up before I throw poison at it.”

  “Okay, behave yourself. Or don’t.” Tara grinned. “I’ll grab us some drinks.”

  “Vodka tonic, please,” she called over her shoulder as she made her way onto the dance floor.

  Amber flung herself fully into the throng and closed her eyes, letting her body move to the beat.

  There was something so freeing and wonderful about letting go and feeling the music. It was like every stress and worry fled as she fell into that trance-like movement.

  A hand brushed her hip before a body pressed up close behind her.

  Instinctively, she moved forward and away from whoever had touched her. She opened her eyes, making sure she was just out of reach. Keeping an eye out for whoever was overly confident and aggressive.

  Being groped by a stranger on the dance floor wasn’t as sexy as some people seemed to think it was.

  Her gaze connected with a tall blond guy with big biceps. He was a handful of people away, but watching her.

  Not bad-looking at all, and his smile seemed genuine enough.

  Maybe it just depends on the stranger?

  She kept dancing, watching him as he moved closer. Unlike the mystery person who’d grabbed her a minute ago, this guy kept a bit of distance between them. He only had eyes for her, though.

  The next song brought him within inches of her.

  “I’m Jarren,” he shouted near her ear.

  “Amber,” she called back.

  He moved closer until their bodies were swaying in unison.

  “I love your hair. So hot.”

  A laugh spilled past her lips, and he answered with a wide, perfect smile.

  He reached out, settling one hand on her waist. “Is this okay?”

  The fact that he’d asked for permission sent a reassuring thrill for her.

  Maybe going out wasn’t going to be a total bust. Reggie who, right?

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” She moved closer and lifted her hands over her head as she danced, her body brushing against his now.

  Getting sucked up in the music and this moment, Amber embraced being a twenty-three-year-old single woman.

  Chapter Five

  “This is a nice restaurant.”

  Reggie glanced up from the menu and across the table to where Nicole sat. “I’m glad you like it.”

  She looked gorgeous tonight, but that was nothing new. Her red hair appeared soft and wavy, like she’d just stepped out of a salon.

  Her makeup was heavy, her thick lashes fake—or extensions. He didn’t really know how all that worked, but he did know women didn’t naturally have lashes that looked like that.

  He couldn’t decide if he liked them or was a little freaked out by them.

  He’d hinted she might want to dress up, but he wasn’t sure if she’d taken that to heart or not. Her jeans looked expensive, like they were strictly for showing off long legs and a round ass.

  The top she wore was floral and lace and cut low, showing off her impressive chest.

  So why the hell couldn’t his dick twitch with awareness?

  Something?

  He knew why. Because he’d always been more aroused by the combo of an attractive personality that matched the attractive person. And lately, her personality hadn’t been cutting it.

  “It’s really cute in here,” Nicole commented, before leaning over. “Let’s do a selfie.”

  Ugh.

  Still, he indulged her and flashed a smile as she took a picture of them and the art deco style décor behind them.

  At least she liked the restaurant. Truthfully, he’d been a little worried about this spot for dinner. She seemed to like the trendier places that were fun to check into. Or whatever it was she did on her phone.

  What did she do on that thing all the time?

  “Is my company not enough for you?” he finally asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when we go out, you spend half the night scrolling on your phone.”

  What was it about some people? It was like real conversations face-to-face were a challenge, and it was easier to just socialize virtually.

  Her cheeks flushed, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret asking.

  Shit or get off the pot.

  Having just passed his thirty-fifth birthday, he was ready to find the one. Tiptoeing around issues wasn’t going to expedite that anytime soon.

  “No, that’s not it. You’re great. I just . . . I guess it’s just a bad habit,” she admitted, but still clutched her phone in her hand.

  “Hey, we’re all guilty of it at times.” He focused on the menu, narrowing dinner down to a couple of choices. “So you like the live music?”

  “Oh, what?” She glanced toward the stage. “Dang, I didn’t even realize that was live. Very cool.”

  He’d thought so. The jazz trio that played late on Saturday nights was amazing, and the food here was top-notch.

  “What are you leaning toward ordering?” He set his menu down, having made his choice. “I personally highly recommend the Monte Cristo sandwich or the Cajun shrimp pasta.”

  “Oh, that sounds amazing.” Nicole grabbed the menu again and gave it a quick scan. “But I should probably order the grilled chicken salad.”

  This restaurant was famous for its hearty comfort food. The chicken salad was clearly thrown on there for the allergy prone, health nuts, or dieters.

  Usually, he couldn’t care less what a woman ordered and didn’t judge regardless. The way she’d thrown in the but I should probably order made him curious, though.

  “Do you want the salad?”

  She glanced up from the phone, surprise in her brown eyes. “I . . . what? Do I want the salad? No, I hate salads at this point and basically force them down. That pasta sounds amazing. But I’m still ordering the salad.”

  He shook his head, trying to make logic of that, but deciding to drop it. “Right, never mind.”

  She sighed. “Look, Reggie, I’m really lucky to have this body right now.”

  He blinked at that statement.

  “It doesn’t take much, just a little workout now and then. Some healthy eating keeps it in check.” She leaned forward. “But look at my mom and you know where it’s heading. A few burgers here and a brownie there, and I’m the fat girl who guys like you don’t look twice at.”

  Dismay slid through him, stunting any ability to form a reply.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to inform her that his last girlfriend had weighed more than him, and he wasn’t the shallow asshole she was writing him off to be.

  But he’d be wasting his breath and didn’t really want to bring Erin up and into this weird-ass conversation.

  He took a moment, choosing his words carefully.

  “Nicole, I can’t even imagine the pressure society has put on you as a woman to be gorgeous and have a perfect figure. And I’m truly sorry and sad about that. If I ever have a daughter, I’ll do better and make sure she knows she’s beautiful, no matter what.”

  He sighed. “What I’m doing a shitty job of saying is, you don’t have to worry about that from me. If you don’t actually want the chicken salad, I hope you don’t feel you have to order it.”

  She actually put her phone down and stared at him, as if he were a Sasquatch she’d suddenly spotted.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “You’re like the perfect guy, aren’t you?”

  A self-conscious heat worked its way up his neck. “Nah, I just had great parents.”

  “Can we start again?” she asked softly. “I feel like I really screwed up this date, and I really like you, Reggie.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.” She placed her hand on his. “You’re so hot and super sweet. And, confession time, I kind of have a thing for firemen.”

  Yeah, that last part wasn’t such a novelty. A lot of women seemed to really get interested once they realized he was a firefighter.

  Which was another reason Amber was so tempting lately. She didn’t get all hot and bothered that he was a firefighter, because she was one herself.

  Damn it. Stop thinking about Amber.

  How had she slipped past his defenses and into his mind while he was on a date with another woman?

  Until yesterday, he hadn’t seen her as anything but a friend. But those blinders had clearly deteriorated.

  He mentally shoved her back out.

  “So, what do you think? Should we start over with a clean plate?”

  Did she mean “clean slate”?

  He needed the distraction, so giving Nicole another chance was a no-brainer. She’d owned up to her flaws, and she seemed nice enough. Maybe he just really needed to give this all a chance.

  “Yeah. Let’s start over.”

  Their waiter approached to take their order.

  “I’ll have the Cajun shrimp pasta, thanks.” He handed the waiter back his menu.

  Nicole cleared her throat and flashed the waiter a huge smile. “Hi, can I have the grilled chicken salad? No croutons and dressing on the side, please.”

  Reggie bit back a sigh. It might be a long night.

  *

  “Thanks for the drink.”

  Amber accepted the vodka tonic from Tara and took a big swallow, welcoming the cold liquid and ensuing burn down her throat.

  Her friend nodded and gestured to the dance floor. “I see you found someone to break a sweat with?”

  Someone being Jarren. Amber’s gaze traveled to where he still danced out on the floor, all the while never taking his eyes off her.

  “I did. He seems nice.”

  Though it was hard to really get to know someone with house music blaring and conversation nearly impossible.

  How many songs had they danced to? At least five.

  If anything, it had been fun. And, hey, she was getting in loads of cardio. Which had left her parched.

  She downed the rest of the drink.

  “You’re supposed to sip that.”

  “I know. I probably should’ve asked for water to quench my thirst instead of taking it out on this guy.” She lifted her now-empty glass. “How’s your luck going?”

  “Not bad.” Tara’s gaze slid to a woman behind the bar who was mixing drinks.

  “Ah, I see.” Amber noted the short brunette in a crop top with loads of eyeliner. “She’s cute. Is this someone you already knew, or met tonight?”

  Tara smiled. “Already knew. We’re kind of off-again, on-again.”

  “Yup, been there. Don’t want to repeat that.”

  Okay, so it had been her high school boyfriend, but those things kind of stuck with you. Way too much of an emotional tug-of-war.

  “Hey, Amber.”

  Oh, look . . . Jarren-from-the-dance-floor had magically appeared at her side.

  She glanced up quickly and the room tilted.

  Damn.

  Downing that drink in a few swallows had not been smart. Not to mention she hadn’t eaten since her protein bar at lunch.

  “Hi, Jarren.”

  He really was pretty. Were you supposed to call men pretty? He was. All Nordic-looking with his pale skin, longish blond hair, and blue eyes.

  “Hey, Jarren, have you ever dressed up as a Viking for Halloween?”

  Amusement flashed in his eyes before he shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Do you want to go back on the dance floor?”

  Was it hot in here? It felt so hot in here.

  “I’m actually going to step outside for a minute.”

  “Can I come?”

  Her brows rose, but she shrugged. “I mean, sure, if you want.”