But the pub was open and she decided to make a quick stop. Most nights any of her friends from the building might be found here. Tonight it was the building manager, Elle, Joe’s sister, Molly, and Haley, who worked as an optometrist on the second floor.

Sean, bartender and also co-owner of the pub, tan from a recent trip to Cabo with his new girlfriend, Lotti, slid Vinnie a doggy biscuit from the jar he kept beneath the counter.

Vinnie practically swallowed it whole.

“Your usual?” Sean asked Kylie.

“Not tonight. I’m not staying. But . . . maybe just a quick coffee?”

Elle and Molly were dressed in sharp business attire. Elle because she ran the world, Molly because she ran the front office of Hunt Investigations, where Joe worked. Haley was in a doctor’s lab coat—she often forgot to take it off before leaving her office—and adorable specs.

Kylie, the fashion outcast, was in jeans, a Golden State Warriors sweatshirt, and some residual wood shavings. The fact that she had more clothes to sleep in than to go out in said a lot about her.

Haley was talking about her recent date, which had apparently gone all sorts of bad. The woman she’d gone out with had spread a rumor that they’d slept together in order to get back at an old girlfriend. Haley sighed. “Women suck.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not all that great on the other side of the fence either,” Molly said.

“Gib finally asked me out,” Kylie blurted.

Everyone gasped dramatically, which made her laugh. She’d been waxing poetic about him the entire year she’d been working for him. “He’s barbecuing for me at his place tonight.”

Another dramatic, collective gasp, and she knew they were happy for her. And she was happy too.

Wasn’t she?

Of course she was. She’d wanted this for a long time. So then why couldn’t she stop thinking about Joe and that damn kiss? How he’d slid one arm low on her hips, his other hand sinking into her hair to slowly fist it, holding her in place as he’d kissed her slow and deep, easily the hottest, most erotic kiss of her entire life . . .

Because she self-sabotaged, that’s why. She’d inherited that particular trait from her mom, who was a professional self-sabotager. Her drug of choice was men. The wrong men. And Kylie was absolutely not going to follow in her footsteps.

A woman strode through the pub and up to the bar. She had jet black hair with a few purple streaks, most of it piled on top of her head and held there with a pencil. She wore a pretty flowy top that said Keep Calm and Kiss My Ass, skin-tight jeans, and some seriously kickass ankle boots that had both Elle and Molly nearly drooling.

Her name was Sadie and she worked as a tattoo artist at The Canvas. She nodded at Sean. “I need an order of buffalo wings, crispy fries, and whatever you have for dessert,” she said. “And you know what? Double all of that.” She slid a look over at Kylie and the girls. “When you gotta take a minute to compose yourself at work because violence is frowned upon.”

“Amen to that,” Molly said. “Nice outfit, by the way.”

Kylie sighed. “I need to make fashion my hobby.”

“My only hobby is trying to close the elevator door before someone else gets on,” Sadie said.

Elle high-fived her. “Hey, so if someone said you’d slept with them when you hadn’t, what would you do? Haley here has a situation.”

“First of all, don’t bother to deny anything. It won’t work,” Sadie said. “Instead, use it. Tell everyone how bad he—or she—was, and make up weird fetishes too, like . . . they called out their mom’s name in the throes or something. Destroy ’em, I say.”

“Damn, that’s good,” Haley said.

“Not my first rodeo,” Sadie said.

Kylie gulped down her coffee and stood up with Vinnie. “Okay, well, we’re off to Joe’s.”

Everyone blinked in shock at her and she quickly rewound and replayed her words in her own head and—Oh shit. “Gib’s,” she said quickly. “I meant we’re off to Gib’s.”

Elle pointed at her. “She said Joe’s.”

Haley nodded. “She totally did.”

“Wait. Like, Joe my brother?” Molly asked.

“I don’t know any other Joe, do you?” Elle asked.

“And it’s not like he isn’t really hot,” Haley said. “What?” she asked when they all just stared at her. “I’m gay. I’m not dead.”

Molly grimaced and put her fingers in her ears. “Guys, please. He’s my brother.”

Kylie desperately waved down Sean. “I’m going to need another shot of caffeine.”

Molly tapped her on the shoulder. “And I’m going to need you to tell me what’s going on with you and Joe.”

“To go,” Kylie said to Sean.

He eyed her undoubtedly crazed expression. “How much have you already had today?”

“Oh, not much.” She took a grateful sip as he poured her more. Her hands were shaking. She could hear colors. But that wasn’t the point right now. She looked at Molly. “The answer to your question is nothing. Nothing’s going on with me and Joe, although I’m pretty sure we don’t like each other very much—no offense intended.”

Molly shrugged. “He’s an acquired taste, so no offense taken.”

“Not only don’t we like each other,” Kylie said, “we irritate each other. Just by breathing. Like, all the time.”

“Huh,” Molly said and looked at Elle. “You hearing what I’m hearing?”

“Yep. It’s a classic case of protesting too much.”

“No,” Kylie said. “Really.”

“Definite denial,” Elle said.

“See, that’s why you don’t ever deny,” Sadie said calmly.

“I’m denying because it’s not true!” Kylie said. “The Joe thing is nothing.”

“And now there’s a Joe ‘thing,’” Haley said, using air quotes. “Fascinating.”

“Okay, we’re out,” Kylie said, lifting Vinnie’s carrier. “We’re going to the barbecue now.”

Vinnie perked up at this. Vinnie loved food.

“Which is at . . . whose house again?” Haley asked innocently.

“Joe’s.” Shit. Kylie slapped a hand over her mouth. “What the hell is that?” she asked around her fingers.

Her so-called friends grinned.

“Gah. I’m going to Gib’s,” she corrected herself, horrified, enunciating his name carefully. “G-I-B, Gib’s.” Then, before she could make anything worse, she left.

She dropped Vinnie off at home with a hug and his dinner. Then, thirty minutes later, she stood on Gib’s front porch. He’d inherited a tiny Victorian on the edge of Pacific Heights. It was a cute, little old lady place, and everyone who came here made fun of Gib for keeping it.

He couldn’t care less. Property in San Francisco was priced out of the atmosphere and so he made this house work for him. He’d added some modern touches, such as an eighty-inch LED TV and an extra fridge, and called it good.

Kylie knocked but he didn’t answer. Probably because his music was on loud and there were people inside. As in lots of them.

This wasn’t a date. It was a party.

Feeling stupid, she turned to go just as Gib finally opened the front door. “Hey!” he said, smiling at the sight of her. “You came! Listen,” he said more quietly, taking a quick peek over his shoulder. “A few friends showed up unexpectedly and brought—”