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next block, she turned to face him squarely. He flicked his long bangs out of his eyes. “Avery . . . did you just check out that guy’s butt?”
    Avery had a beautiful smile, dimples, a chin that came to a dramatic, handsome point and was adorned with a little peach-fuzz stubble. He turned on his glittering smile now. “Er . . .” He half laughed. “Well . . .”
    “You dumbass,” she said, but affectionately. “Why didn’t you tell Rick, when he said he wanted to introduce us?”
    Avery sighed with relief, shrugged, and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I don’t know . . .”
    “Don’t say it’s because he’s the store manager and you were fearing for your job or something stupid like that.”
    “No, Rick’s cool. But the other guys at work . . .”
    “You work at a supermarket, not down on the docks!”
    “There’s a lot of testosterone in the stockroom! All that swearing and spitting and . . .”
    Emmie laughed, shook her head, and started walking again. Avery took long strides to keep up with her.
    “So you’re not mad?”
    “No. I think you’re being silly, though.” Emmie sighed, studying him. “Got a boyfriend?”
    “No, not just now.”
    “So you’re not cheating on anybody by being out on a date with me.”
    “No, I would never do that.”
    “Well, that’s something.”
    “I really like you, Emmie. Can we be friends and, you know, hang out more?”
    He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sure. After all, what would a sassy single girl be without a cute gay frie—oh, crap.”
    She stopped short, and Avery stumbled, taken by surprise. Up ahead, Juliet emerged from a shop and bounced down the single step onto the sidewalk. She was hard to miss, in a puffy white down jacket short enough to show off her pert tush wrapped in expensive, tight jeans, a baby-blue knit hat and matching mittens, and soft, calf-high boots with some sort of fluffy lining.
    “Somebody you know?” Avery asked.
    “You could say that.”
    “She’s hot.”
    “Humph. And you said you wanted to be my friend. Whose side are you on, bub?”
    “Sorry.”
    Emmie fervently wished that Juliet would turn left and walk away from them instead of toward them, but she wasn’t holding out much hope—not the way her luck was going lately. Sure enough, Juliet turned in their direction. And the next person to emerge from the shop. . .
    “I hate my life,” Emmie whispered.
    “I smell drama,” Avery murmured.
    Emmie began, in an overly sweet tone, “Avery . . .”
    “You need me to pretend to be straight and madly in love with you right now, don’t you?”
    “You’re very perceptive. Yes, please.” And Emmie gripped his arm with her free hand as well, moving closer to him.
    “Are we trying to make her envious, or him jealous?”
    “Yes, please.”
    “I can’t wait to hear the details.”
    But Emmie couldn’t give him any just then, because Juliet had spotted her and was waving merrily.
    “Emmie!” Juliet cried, as though running into her was the highlight of her evening.
    “Hi, Juliet,” she said politely—and far more reservedly.
    Juliet gave Avery the once-over, obviously expecting an introduction. “This is my dear friend Avery,” Emmie filled her in, emphasizing the words “dear friend” and letting Juliet draw her own conclusions. “Avery, this is Juliet, an old friend from high school.”
    “And a good friend still,” Juliet added with a tinkling laugh. Emmie raised her eyebrows at Graham, who had caught up and was sort of lurking in Juliet’s shadow as he stood looking in the other direction at nothing in particular. Juliet turned around and tugged on Graham’s sleeve. He turned to face Emmie and Avery, nodding politely, his gaze meeting Emmie’s eyes for a long moment. She swatted at the little butterflies that tickled her insides again. God, she was crazy about him . . . but here he was, out with Juliet. Which put her right