Her lips twitched. “I guess.”

“We’re adults, sweetheart. We can invite whomever we want into our bed, and as long as everyone involved is into it, then there’s nothing wrong with that. Okay?”

“Okay.” She bit her bottom lip. “So then why did you look so unhappy before?”

Cash hesitated. “I was thinking about Dylan. Me and Dylan…what we did.”

She set the hairbrush on the edge of the sink and turned to face him. “Fooling around with another guy doesn’t take away from your hetero masculinity, you know that, right? It’s perfectly healthy to explore some bi-curiosities.”

“That’s not it.”

“So you’re not embarrassed about what happened?”

“No. I’m just wondering if this will change anything between us,” he confessed. “He’s my best friend. I don’t want things to get…weird.”

“He seemed fine when he left last night.”

Cash smiled ruefully. “Alcohol has a remarkable way of making everything seem like a good idea.”

She stepped forward and looped her arms around his neck. He had to tilt his head to look down at her, which continued to surprise him. He kept forgetting how tiny she was—probably because her sunny smiles and big heart seemed to fill up any room she was in.

When she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, he experienced a rare burst of tenderness. His chest tightened, his brain going fuzzy when she deepened the kiss. As much as he loved having sex with this woman, it was her kisses he was growing addicted to. Her sweet taste, her pliant lips, the tiny moan she let out each time their tongues met.

She’d gotten under his skin. He couldn’t deny it any longer, and he couldn’t pretend their conversation in the car yesterday hadn’t affected him. He’d tried to brush it off. Told himself he wasn’t bothered by Jen’s reminder that the fling would end as scheduled when three weeks were up. But hell. It did bother him. He didn’t like having that end date looming over him like a thundercloud.

He broke the kiss, trying not to dwell on his troubling thoughts. “What’s on the agenda for today? I’m meeting the guys around four to work out, but what should we do until then?”

Her expression instantly hardened. “I want to talk to Carson.”

“Did you call him?”

She nodded. “His cell went to voicemail. I called the apartment, but nobody answered there either. I left a message, though. I was tempted to say it had to do with Brendan, just to guarantee he’d call back, but I felt bad making him worry so I said I needed to see him ASAP but that everything was okay. He hasn’t called back yet.” Her face clouded over. “Maybe he’s busy with his angel.”

“Jen,” he chided.

“I know, I know. There must be an explanation,” she mimicked.

Cash stifled a sigh and changed the subject. “Okay, so what do you want to do until he gets back to you?”

She grabbed an elastic band from the toiletry kit on the counter and twisted her blonde hair into a loose bun. “I guess I can hand out some more resumes.”

“Nobody’s gotten back to you, huh?”

Her frustration was evident. “Nope.”

“Well, it’s only been a day.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. I wasn’t thrilled about any of the stores we went to. Besides, I hate sales.” She shoved the hairbrush in the toiletry bag and blew past him.

Cash noted the sag of her shoulders as he followed her into the kitchen, where she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and uncapped it.

“Maybe I should apply for more office jobs,” she said after she took a sip of water. “I worked as a receptionist at a dental office a few years ago, and it wasn’t so bad.”

“Or you could do something with photography,” he suggested.

She faltered. “What?”

“Apply at the local papers, submit your stuff to magazines, contests.” He met her baffled eyes. “You’re a damn good photographer. Why don’t you find out if you can make a career out of it?”

“A career?” Now she looked surprised. “I’m not good enough to be a professional feature photographer, Cash.”

“Says who?”

Her brows puckered. “It’s only a hobby. I’ve never taken any classes or studied photography. I don’t know any fancy techniques, or even the proper names for half the stuff I do on my camera.”

“So? Your work speaks for itself. At least put yourself out there before you decide you’re not good enough.”

“I guess.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s just not very practical. I can’t see how I’d make enough money to support myself.”

“Says who?” he repeated. “Because you’re sounding a lot like your parents right now.”

He tried to mask his anger, but it was difficult when he remembered the condescending way her parents had spoken about her photographs. Or the way they’d treated Jen—like she was a failure, a disappointment to them.

“I…” She swallowed. “It’s…a hobby, Cash. And I’m not good with rejection—what if I send work out and everyone hates it?”

“Then everyone hates it.” He shrugged. “At least you’ll know that you tried.”

“And failed,” she muttered.

“That kind of attitude isn’t conducive to success, babe. See, you’ve got yourself failing before you’ve even given it a shot. Coming up with excuses not to go after what you want won’t achieve a damn thing.”