"I am aware of that," I said.
"Just sleep with both of them," she suggested. "Separately or together. Whatever."
I nearly choked on my iced coffee. "They were in the same room together once and wanted to tear each other apart. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with exceeding the allowable amount of testosterone in a small space. They would've reacted the same way around any set of ovaries. Their heads would explode if I even suggested group naked time. No cuddle puddles for these boys."
Andy tapped her fingers against her lips for a moment. "It's interesting howyoudidn't object to my recommendations."
Good grief.
"I don't want a threesome," I whispered, swinging my gaze to the donut eaters around us. "And believe me, neither do Rob and Ben."
"Then you're test-driving both models," Andy supplied. "Right? That's where we're going with this?"
"Girl, where is your husband?" I asked, glancing around the bakery as if Patrick Walsh was hiding in the shadows. True story though, Patrick was known to keep a close eye on Andy when she was out shopping. He'd appeared in stranger places at stranger times, especially around the holidays.
"Why? You want his opinion?" Andy asked. "I have an idea which side he'd choose."
That was all we needed. Patrick's take on my feast-or-famine dating life.
"No, I don't need anything of the sort," I said, busying myself with my napkin. "I'm not sure I'm test-driving anyone."
"Oh, don't lie to me. Don't even try."
I met her gaze but glanced away quickly. Of course, I'd thought about it. About them. About reconciling the idea of seeing two men at the same time. About having sex with two men, not at the same time but damn near close enough. About unraveling the emotions long enough to make that plan plausible because I couldn't imagine my head and my heart allowing such an experiment without concerted effort.
"I'm not lying," I said quietly. "I'm not sure I can do it. With both of them." After a moment, I added, "Separately."
Andy lifted a shoulder. "You don't have to. You only have to do what you want."
From behind me, I heard, "Funny running into you here."
Swiveling in my seat, I expected to find Patrick. Like I said, he had a knack for showing up. But it wasn't Patrick.
Oh. Oh shit.
It was Rob.
Chapter Sixteen
My date was enjoyingthis too much.
Far too much. Andy—the chick who didn't usually smile in the course of normal interactions—was fighting off a grin as wide as the Mississippi River and trying to hide it behind another donut.
"Oh. Hi," I said. He dropped his hand onto the back of my chair and gifted me with a warm smile before glancing to Andy. "Uh, Rob, this is my friend Andy. Andy, this is Rob."
At the same time, they replied, "I've heard a lot about you."
"Oh my god," I whispered.
"Sit a minute, won't you?" Andy asked Rob. "I eat donuts once, maybe twice a year so I'm not likely to share these with you. I hope that's not an impediment to you hanging with us."
Rob glanced inside the bakery box and back at Andy. "Once or twice a year? I'd heard you were a bit severe but that type of deprivation is insane."
"Severe?" Andy repeated, leveling me with an arched eyebrow. "You said I'm severe?"
"Severe is good," I replied. "It's great. We all want to be severe."
Andy studied Rob for a moment. "It's not insanity," she replied. "I don't favor sweets. On occasion, I'll get donuts or ice cream or chocolate on the brain. When I do, I put that craving to bed."
