She turns around, eyes me up and down, then wipes her hand across her mouth. “And yet you made it out alive. No worse for the wear.”

I glance down at my frame, considering her assessment. “We can have a go again if you’re interested in trying to cut off all the circulation in my body. I think you achieved a ninety percent shutdown, so why not go for broke?”

She pats my chest. “I’m always happy to take you down in class if you think your pride can take it. How much ego did that cut off?”

Scoffing, I answer, “Nothing I can’t spare, given its size.”

“Glad to see you’re not suffering from ego shrinkage.” She laughs, then nudges my elbow. “Thanks for being such a good sport. I’m going to take a quick shower since I need to head to work for a meeting. Are you going that way?”

I weigh whether to leave now, or loiter a bit and join her on her walk to Gin Joint.

Who am I kidding? Those scales will always have a Truly-shaped thumb on them. “Is fifteen minutes good for you?”

“Make it ten.”

True to form, she’s ready quickly, looking fresh-faced and sexy as sin in a short, painted-on skirt and a black tank top. God, I fucking love summer. It’s the greatest season ever invented by man. I mean God. God invented summer, obviously. Man just invented the clothes that go with it.

“So, we’ve established you can take any man, woman, or three-headed beast down in a dark alley,” I say once we leave the studio.

“That was my goal when I started training a few years ago. But don’t sell me short. Four-headed beasts are now on my takedown list too.”

“How about grizzly bears? Or, say, an anaconda?”

“Been there, done that. But listen.” We stop at a light, and she glances at me then takes a breath. Her tone turns more serious. “You don’t go easy on me in class, do you?”

I scoff and shoot her a you’ve got to be kidding stare. “Wait. You think I was going easy on you?”

She holds up her palms. “Just making sure you’re not one of those guys who thinks he has to soften things for a woman.”

“There’s nothing soft about me.” I take a beat. “As you well know.”

She rolls her eyes. She does that to me a lot, but I won’t say I don’t deserve it. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“But it’s spot-on true. I’d never go easy just because you’re a woman.” I wiggle an eyebrow. “But let’s talk more about how hard you want me to be. Would you like me, for instance, somewhat harder, much harder, or oh my God, that’s so hard harder?”

“Oh yes, please. The latter.”

With a straight face, I answer, “Done. Consider it done.”

“And I’m glad you don’t treat me any differently because I have girl parts. I want to be tough-as-nails in this martial art.”

I rub my ear. “Sorry I didn’t hear anything you said after ‘girl parts.’ Everything else sounded like Take me home, Jason, and make me scream your name. Did I get that right?”

“Sure. That’s exactly what I said.” She laughs as we turn the corner, heading down a tree-lined block in the heart of Chelsea. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Not a bit of relent when it comes to some things. And along those lines,” I say, stroking my chin, “that position we tried in class—just wondering if it made you think of any other interesting positions.”

“Hmm.” She screws up the corner of her lips, as if considering. “Nope. Can’t say it did.”

“None at all? Wrapping your legs around me didn’t trigger any memory?”

We reach Gin Joint, the speakeasy-style bar she owns, though to call it a bar would do it a disservice. It’s an establishment with a full lounge, 1920s-style decor, and regular entertainment, including lounge singers. Her brother—my best friend—is one of those singers, and he helps draw crowds. Gin Joint has scored a place on more than one list of coolest theme bars in the city.

She stares at the sky, still bright even as the sun makes its trip toward the edge of the horizon. “I keep drawing a blank.”

“Want me to give you more hints, or just spell it out for you? Things you said. I mean, things you screamed.”

She stares at me for a beat. “We had an agreement. That all stays in the vault.”

“But sometimes it’s fun to revisit memories in the vault, isn’t it?”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “Yes, but that’s not the deal we made.”

I know, but what can I say? I love the chase even if it’ll never go anywhere, just for the sake of it. “So you do admit you enjoy taking a trip down dirty memory lane?”

“You do realize that can’t happen again?” But a naughty glint crosses her pretty blue eyes. Ah, perhaps the memory is never far from the surface for her either.

I zip my lips, but then instantly unzip them. “I’m just saying.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Three times.”

“Jason.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Pretend you don’t remember every detail in triplicate.”

“I don’t. I don’t remember a single one.”

“And I die yet again.” I’m about to turn around when my mind snags on something she said earlier. “Who’s your meeting with? A supplier?”

A grin seems to tug at her lips. “A restaurant and bar investor Charlotte hooked me up with. She’s such a great bestie. Anyway, we’re going to talk about expanding my brand. I pitched him on a new concept bar I want to start.”

“You’re going to be the queen of Manhattan nightlife. I’ll say I knew you when.”

“And you’re the king of gentlemen,” she says, a nod to the work I’ve done to establish myself as an expert on all the things a modern gentleman should know. “Are you writing a column tonight? Working on a new podcast?”

I look at my watch. “Actually, I’m meeting up with Nora, and I need to get going. She won’t want to be kept waiting.”

She stiffens, her hand freezing around the key in the lock. Her brow furrows as she turns to meet my gaze, her blue eyes inquisitive. “Nora?”

Do I detect a lovely note of jealousy in her voice? That may be one of the most glorious sounds I’ve ever heard coming from Truly Goodman’s mouth.

“Who’s Nora?” she asks before I can answer. “You’ve never mentioned a Nora.”

She mentioned Nora’s name three times. If that isn’t a third time’s a charm moment, I don’t know what is. I decide to have fun with her. “She’s my date to the wedding I’m working this coming weekend.”

“Oh.” It comes out heavily. “I thought you did those solo.”

“Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.” I drop a kiss to Truly’s cheek, catching a faint whiff of her freshly scrubbed scent. I say goodbye and let her chew on the idea of me on a date.

Here’s the thing: Truly has made it abundantly clear where we stand, and she’s 100 percent right that we can’t go there again—she’s my best friend’s sister, and she’s also my very good friend.