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Sterling cursed, already moving. He spun from the stove so fast the tongs smacked the counter and skidded, forgotten. He crossed the kitchen in two strides, his eyes locked on me like the rest of the world had ceased to exist. “Sienna—fuck.” He caught my wrist gently, inspecting the angry pink splash on my skin. “You okay?”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, even as my pulse raced. “Just coffee. I’ve survived worse.”

The knob rattled violently, but Sterling didn’t even look away from me as he called out, “You break my door, you’re fixing it.”

There was silence for a moment, then Ryder’s voice came through the wood, sounding quite annoyed. “Why the hell doesn’t my key work anymore?”

Sterling’s mouth twitched. “Because I changed the locks.”

There was another pause.

“Incredible,” Ryder scoffed. “So this is how friendship dies.”

Sterling snorted and finally released my hand, standing up and crossing the kitchen. He yanked the door open. “Why are you here?”

Ryder shouldered his way past Sterling. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine.” His gaze slid past Sterling and landed on me. He straightened a little, a goofy grin spreading across his lips. “Well, hello, Sienna. Nice shirt.”

“Hi,” I squeaked, painfully aware that there was no universe in which Ryder didn’t know something had happened.

Well. Maybe not the handcuff part of the night. But I was pretty sure the rest of it was written all over my face.

He scratched the back of his neck, his gaze bouncing between us like a pinball. Sterling’s bare chest. Me wearing his shirt. The skillet hissing on the stove.

“Wow,” Ryder said mildly. “This kitchen is telling a story.”

Then he wandered over to the stove, grabbed a plate from the counter like he paid the mortgage, and helped himself to bacon.

Sterling let out a long, put-upon sigh. A sound a man makes when he’s accepted his fate, and that fate is named Ryder Boone. “Give me that,” Sterling said, reaching for the plate.

Ryder gasped, clutching it to his chest with exaggerated horror and pivoting out of reach. “Whoa. No. Absolutely not.”

“Ryder.”

“I’m not letting you break up with me like this,” Ryder said solemnly, backing away another step. “New locks. Shirtless mornings. Stealing my breakfast? That’s not how you end a relationship.”

I bit my lip, failing spectacularly at not laughing.

Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re eating Sienna’s bacon.”

“Sienna doesn’t mind me eating her bacon. Do you, Sienna?” Ryder asked with a wink.

I blinked at him, then at the rapidly disappearing bacon. “I don’t know,” I said solemnly. “I barely know you, and you’re already stealing my breakfast. That feels like a red flag.”

Ryder grinned. He popped another piece of bacon into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes flicked between us again, and then he settled back on Sterling. “You look…calm.”

Sterling leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “I feel calm.”

Ryder froze, not dramatically…but enough to notice.

“Oh,” he said after a beat. He tapped his finger on his chin as if he was deep in thought. “I just figured you might want to talk about…last night.”

My attention betrayed me immediately as I thought about last night, my gaze zeroing in on Sterling’s abs and his ink…and all of that bare skin. Sterling caught my stare and winked.

Ryder sighed. Loudly. “Focus. You didn’t answer your phone. Or my texts.”

“I was busy,” Sterling said.

Ryder snorted. “Yeah. I can see that.” Then his voice dipped, the humor falling away, and he darted a glance at me before saying, “I was just checking in.”