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I didn’t see Tathan on Friday.

He wasn’t at work, and I knew he had to take Casey’s photos tonight, and I’m kind of jealous I’m not there to watch him work.

Instead, I spend the night in my apartment and watching movies with Oliver.

Saturday, I spend the entire day with Casey and Zane preparing for the wedding, but mostly the bridal shower.

When I finally get back to my apartment, Tathan is unlocking his door, camera bag on his shoulder.

I envision what he must have looked like today while shooting. Those bright eyes taking on that brooding essence they have when he’s concentrating and the way he selectively chooses the angles that give him the images he’s seeking. So sexy.

God, he’s seriously starting to get to me.

By the time I walk over to him, he’s leaning into the wall waiting for me, relaxed and content as he watches me approach. . . unlike me who’s fidgeting with everything from my hair to my dress, to the strap of my purse.

He gives me that adorable smile, eyes twinkling as he looks at the sundress I wore today. “Hey.” His eyes drift south. “I’m disappointed I didn’t see you all day.”

He’s flirting.

“You missed out.” I poke his chest when I get closer.

“Is that so?” His eyebrow arches in question, and then he groans as if this is devastating news to him.

“Yep.” My shoulder presses into the wall as I wait to see what he’s going to do next. It’s like I’m giving him an opportunity here, which I am.

“Hot tub?” he suggests, leaning into my wall, his eyes still wandering.

I groan, giving in. Like he had to ask. “Meet me down there in twenty minutes.”

He winks. “Deal.”

“WHAT HAPPENED WITH you and Colton?”

“How’d you know about Colton?”

“Casey. . . .” He’s amused and takes a drink of his beer. He’s on his third one now, and I’m on my second glass of wine as we sit under the stars. “She gave me your life story yesterday when I was doing the engagement photos.”

She sucks.

“Colton cheated on me with his roommate’s girlfriend after my dad got sick. I caught them in bed of all places doing the nasty, the horizontal mambo, bumpin’ uglies. . . .” Tathan starts laughing at this point, his shoulders shaking. “Boinking. . . banging. . . I could go on for days with this one.”

It’s apparent I spend entirely too much time on Urban Dictionary and have had maybe too many glasses of wine.

He laughs. “Did you kick his ass?”

“I threw a firecracker into the bed with them,” I tell him proudly. “I aimed at the goods, but missed. Either way, he went out with a bang.”

He looks terrified but amused. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“Youwereon my bad side. . . but I used office supplies against you instead of fire. I was almost arrested for the firecracker incident too, so I’ve laid off the explosives.”

“For throwing a firecracker?” He can’t help but laugh again, shaking his head.

“I may or may not have set his car on fire too.” I point at him. “No one had any proof!” I decide it’s time to change the conversation to him. “Do you miss your parents?”

His head slumps, and he nods. I instantly feel horrible about asking that. I just blurted it out without thinking.

Nice timing.