The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient 3)

She’s calling me. Not texting, but calling.

The knowledge that she felt comfortable enough to take this step makes my chest light up.

“Shit, is that her?” Michael asks, rushing over to peer at my phone over my shoulder. “Hurry up and answer.”

I draw in a quick breath and exhale through my lips before accepting the call and bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Anna.”

“Hi,” she says, sounding shy and awkward and entirely like herself.

I shouldn’t, but I break into a huge grin. “What’s up?” Michael is watching me with pure delight, so I turn around to get some privacy from his nosy eyes.

“I was wondering if you wanted to try again tonight? Maybe at my place?” she asks.

“Yeah, that would be great. Should I bring anything? I can pick up takeout,” I offer.

“Is that safe with your motorcycle?”

I laugh. “I have a car, too.”

“Well, I was thinking we could cook something, so it’s really not necessary. I’m usually better when I have something to do, and I’m okay in the kitchen as long as I don’t have to touch raw meat. It’s slimy.” She sounds so tortured that I can’t help laughing again.

“Are you a vegetarian, Anna?”

“No, but I don’t eat a whole ton of meat.”

“Because it’s better for the planet,” I guess.

“Because it’s better for the planet,” she confirms, and I can tell from her voice that she’s smiling. “Are you okay with pasta? And mushrooms? And white wine sauce?”

Grinning, I say, “Yeah, I like pasta and mushrooms and white wine sauce.”

“Does seven work for you tonight?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” she says on a relieved breath. “I’ll text you my address. When you get here, buzz me in apartment 3A, and I’ll let you up.”

“Got it, looking forward to it.”

I expect her to say good-bye and hang up, but instead she says, “Me, too.”

I smile so hard my face hurts. “Bye, Anna.”

“Bye, Quan.”

The line finally disconnects, and when I turn around, there’s such glee on Michael’s face that I pick up his second glove and chuck it at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He’s so busy smirking that the glove hits his chest and falls to the ground by his feet without getting his attention. “You really like her.”

“We’re just going to hook up and then we’ll be done. This isn’t a thing,” I say reasonably.

“Okay,” he says, but he’s still smirking and I know he doesn’t believe it for a second. He thinks I’ve met someone special, when I haven’t.

I mean, she is special. But she’s not my someone special.

I’m sure of this.

Mostly sure.