He hiccups.
“The Bloom sisters can’t stop giving me cookies.”
“I know. It’s devastating.”
“Earl invited me to Bob’s birthday party.”
“That’s a great honor.”
“Steve keeps pestering me about the podcast, and Harold wants me in some chicken coop history project. I don’t want to do either.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Ann-Sabrina sends me disturbing reels.”
“That means she likes you. But we can tell her to stop.”
“No, they’re funny.”
He remembers something else.
“Xaden saluted me the other day.”
“He did?”
The question comes out too fast, my composure failing at the mention of the swaggering, tattooed action hero saluting Antonio.
Antonio’s eyes open. He studies me in the dim light. Then a slow smile spreads across his face.
“He did, yeah. It was a very professional agent salute.”
I swallow.
I’m not jealous.
Nope. Not at all.
“What are your thoughts on, uh—on Xaden? As a person?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“Hmm.” Antonio looks delighted. “Why are you asking?”
“Do you think he’s better-looking than me?” I press a pillow over my face. “Forget it,” I say in a muffled voice.
Antonio climbs on top of me and pulls the pillow off me.
“You are jealous.”
He’s beaming.
“It shouldn’t make you happy,” I mutter.
“Have you met me?”
I groan.
“Can I be totally honest?” he asks solemnly. “Promise me you won’t get mad.”
“I promise,” I say, bracing myself.
