But before I slam my back, my skull, and surely my tailbone too, Leo’s right here like Superman, diving after me, grabbing me, and shielding me.

It all happens so fast, I can barely register the order of events.

The next thing I know, he’s rolled me onto his chest, and I’m staring down at him. He’s looking up at me, breathing hard.

Chocolate seeps into the side of my dress, since it appears the fountain spilled over.

But that’s not what stands out most. What I notice above all is how firm Leo’s chest is and how strong his arms feel, holding me.

I’ve never experienced an embrace quite like this.

Brown eyes have never looked at me so fiercely.

I swear, it’s as if the armor he wears disappears for a split-second as he stares at me, swallowing sharply, a gust of breath crossing his lips.

Then, in an instant, the wild, foreign sensation is gone.

3LEO

Positions I’ve dreamed of being in over the years? This would have ranked top of the list.

Wait. Not true. Only because I’ve pictured so damn many positions with her, how the hell can I possibly rank them all?

All fours is definitely up there.

Bent over the bed.

Reverse cowgirl.

But yeah. Fine. Lulu on top of me has to be near the peak.

And before other matters peak, I need distance. A lot of fucking distance.

Somehow, I disentangle from her at the speed of sound, lifting her up and off me as Ginny races over. “Are you okay? Or do I need to get you to the infirmary inside the Willy Wonka chocolate factory?”

Ginny’s always ready with a Band-Aid or a joke.

Lulu cranes her neck to stare at the back of her lovely orange dress that’s not so lovely anymore. Even with my dive-and-grab roll, she still bore the brunt of the chocolate mess.

“I’ll live,” Lulu says to Ginny, deadpan.

“Do you want my shirt?” Ginny offers, plucking at her red pullover top.

“Only if you’re interested in walking around in just your bra. And since I don’t want to ask you to do that the first day we meet, I suspect I’ll have to make do.”

Ginny laughs. “But the second day would be okay?”

“Oh, definitely. We’ll trade shirts tomorrow.” Typical Lulu—roll with the punches.

I peer behind me. The back of my white dress shirt sports a tire track of chocolate. Meanwhile, a stocky dude who must be running the Finger-Licking Good joint marches over to us. “What in the ever-loving heck happened here? Did you jump into my fountain? Try to take a bath in it? Splash around and roll in the goodness like a pig in mud?”

I scoff, because he couldn’t have it more wrong. “Are you kidding me? Your fountain bubbled over, and some kid had his face under the stream. That’s what ruined your fountain. He must have bumped into it and that sent it spilling all over the floor.”

His jaw drops. “Someone drank from the fountain?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

The man scratches his jaw. “Come to think of it, that’s not so shocking. It’s kind of like a dream, isn’t it? Chocolate flowing from a fountain. Drinking it straight from the source. What could be better?”

“Gee. I don’t know. Maybe literally everything.”

“Well, I’d say you should try it, but you clearly don’t have a fun bone in your body. Now, where did this fountain-knocker-overer go, because I don’t have time to mess around.”

Lulu flails, pointing dramatically down an aisle. “He went that-a-way. Black skater shirt. Checkered Vans. You can probably still find him if you run fast enough.”

“I gotta catch him. My boss will kill me if anything happens to the fountain, and if I’m home late, my wife will kill me.” The Finger-Licking Good Guy mimes slicing his throat then makes a spooky, don’t-mess-with-the-wife sound. With a brash nod, the square-shaped man takes off, running down the industrial-grade carpet, chasing a chocolate-drink stealer he likely won’t catch.

I take a closer look at the woman I toppled to the floor with. “You look like you’ve taken a mud bath.” I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh so fucking hard because she’s absolutely coated in chocolate.

She laughs too. “We’re quite a sight.”

“We are indeed.”

Her laughter ceases. Her brow furrows. “Shoot. I have my demo. How the hell am I going to do it looking like this?”

That sends me into action. My job isn’t to stand around and let other people solve problems. “Stay here.”

I dart into our booth, duck behind the stand, root around in a box, and find a chef’s jacket and a hand towel. Ginny follows, and she’s by my side, whispering, “The pepper chocolates?”

“Yeah?”

“They were hers.”

I arch a brow as I grab a plastic bag. “No kidding?”

“Swear on my fourth grader.”

I shoot her a most skeptical look.

She huffs. “Hey, I like my kid. But fine, I swear on my love of chocolate. Now do you believe me?”

“Indeed, I do. They were amazing. Did Lulu give them to you?”

“I snagged some from a booth. She wasn’t even there. Do you know what this means?”

“What does it mean?”

“It means this was meant to be.”