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“So you’re busy tomorrow?”

“I have that meeting tomorrow at eleven, then a photo shoot right afterward. But I’d love to see you for breakfast or dinner. Or both.”

“Both, huh?” I said, trying not to sound as satisfied as his suggestion made me feel.

His mouth drew up on one side and he put a hand on my knee. My stomach somersaulted. “If I want to see you, I’m going to ask to see you.”

“And you want to see me twice in one day?” I teased.

“No. I’d rather spend the whole day with you.”

Now I had the grace to blush.

“Hey, I really like that photo of you over your bed,” he said, sitting back against the sofa, giving me a grin.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m naked in that.”

“I’m a photography enthusiast. I’m interested in it for purely artistic reasons.”

“Uh-huh, I’ll bet.” I twisted my lips into a pleased smile. That particular image was something I was proud of for reasons he didn’t seem to realize. I decided not to tell him just yet. Maybe he would figure it out. The fact that he liked it, and didn’t know what it was, was a huge compliment on many levels.

I stretched. “Want something to drink?” We had a pizza coming and I had been a horrible hostess. I hadn’t gotten off the sofa once since we started our murder marathon.

“Sure. Just water.”

I got up and walked into the kitchen and froze. The kitchen was put back together. The fans were gone, and the counters and floor had been cleaned.

Openmouthed, I went to the sink and peeked into the cabinet underneath. Everything was put neatly away, and a shiny new pipe and knob had been installed. I closed the doors and turned on the water. It ran. The dishes had been washed. My tequila glass sat upside down in the sink, drying on the rack.

Gratitude pulsed through me.

When I came out, I handed Jason his water and nudged his knee with mine. “You fixed the kitchen.”

“I said I would.” He set his glass on a coaster.

“I’d like to cook you dinner tomorrow.”

A grin crept across his handsome face. “I’d love that.”

He kept beaming up at me.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s just something you said to me on the phone last night.”

“Oh God, what?” I said with horror.

He twisted his lips into a smirk.

“Tell me.”

“You said I make you want to cook for me.”

Ugh.Drunk me had no business putting that out there for sober me. She was such a gossip.

I flopped down next to him. “Well, thank God it was only that.”

“What else could it have been?”

“No clue. I have no access to the mind of drunk Sloan. That woman is a stranger to me.”

“So what did you do yesterday?” he asked, putting the TV on mute.

I had hoped I wouldn’t have to get into my day yesterday. It had seemed like maybe we were just going to sit among the remnants of Brandon’s life and ignore it. That would have been my preference. But no such luck. And Jason had done more than enough to earn the right to ask.

“Brandon died two years ago yesterday,” I said. “I visited his grave. I gave blood. And then I came home and decided to finally go through his stuff.”

Jason’s eyes took on a look of understanding. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

“It was. It is. But it’s time.”