What she really ought to be figuring out was how on earth she’d be able to spend the next three or four days in close proximity with the man without forgetting everything she’d just told him and ripping his clothes off.

To Seth’s annoyance, Miranda’s rugrats didn’t take the news well—once she informed them that they were staying with Seth for a few more days, both kids promptly burst into tears and clung to their mother like they were scared she’d be abducted by aliens if they let her out of their sight. It made for a rather stressful dinner, this time prepared by Seth, which had earned him an amazed look from Miranda. She kept shaking her head each time she glanced at the grilled chicken and roasted potatoes on her plate, as if she couldn’t fathom that someone like him could create such a meal.

It was actually kind of insulting, evoking a prickly and defensive reaction that only got worse when Miranda swallowed her last bite of chicken and said, “Wow. That was great, Seth. I still can’t believe you cooked dinner.”

All the shit he’d gone through today was finally beginning to get to him, weighing down on his chest and bringing an edge to his tone. “I’m not some helpless case who can’t take care of himself, Miranda. I’m fully capable of cooking my own food. I also know how to do laundry and mop the floor and sew a button back on.”

Silence descended over the table.

In the seat across from him, Dylan shot him a WTF look that Seth ignored.

“I’m sorry,” Miranda said awkwardly. “I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

More silence. The rugrats were sitting on either side of Miranda. Their tears had dried up, but both kids looked miserable, which stumped him because they’d known about the flood in the apartment since yesterday, so why the delayed reaction?

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Miranda prompted as she reached for the water glass on the table. She took a small sip, eyeing him over the rim.

“Not from my mom, that’s for sure,” he said gruffly. “Usually she’d already left for the theater when I got home from school, so I learned to fend for myself. Sometimes I’d watch that cheesy cooking channel to figure out what to make.”

Dylan’s laugh resonated with mirth. “Oh, that’s pure gold. I can’t wait to tell the guys that you wore aprons as a kid and pretended to be Julia Child.”

Seth scowled at his roommate. “Do it and you won’t live to see your next birthday.”

Both of Miranda’s kids began to cry again.

Just like that. No warning, no provocation. One second they were sitting there quietly, the next they’d unleashed the waterworks.

Looking concerned, Miranda wrapped an arm around each child. “Guys, what is going on today? I know you’re upset that we can’t go home for a few days, but we’ll have fun here, I promise.”

Dylan voiced his agreement. “You’ll get to watch movies and stuff yourselves on cookies and popcorn, and you can tell everyone in your class that you’re having an extended sleepover. Think of how jealous they’ll be.”

Neither Miranda nor Dylan succeeded in calming down the twins, whose faces were red and splotchy and covered with tears and snot.

Seth resisted a groan. Christ, how was this happening? In his house? How could he have possibly thought letting Miranda and the rugrats stay here was a good idea?

Miranda murmured words of comfort, but eventually she excused herself and ushered the kids out of the room, leaving the men alone to clean up.

“I can see why you like her,” Dylan confessed, gathering everyone’s dirty plates.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s gorgeous, smart, amazing with those kids. The thing is, I don’t get why you like her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He followed his roommate to the sink and opened the cupboard beneath it, where they kept the trash can. Together, they began scraping leftover food into the garbage, while Dylan took his sweet-ass time responding.

“You don’t go for chicks like Miranda,” Dylan finally said. “You only do temporary, and I hate to break it to you, bro, but that woman has permanent written all over her.”

His jaw tensed. “I know.”

“Do you? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. Let me spell it out for you. That gorgeous, smart woman out there?” Dylan gestured beyond the kitchen doorway. “She’s a mom, and she loves those kids something fierce, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he said grimly.

“And you, for some unexplained reason, have an aversion to anyone under the age of eighteen.”

“Why does everyone act like I’m auditioning for the role of those kids’ father? I’m attracted to Miranda, plain and simple. I want to sleep with her, not marry her.”

Dylan started running the plates under the tap before shoving them in the dishwasher. “Well, she ain’t gonna sleep with you,” he said bluntly. “She’s not the type for a casual f**k. Anyone can see that.”

Seth couldn’t even argue, because he knew Dylan was 100 percent, categorically right. Miranda herself had made that loud and clear only hours ago. So why the hell couldn’t he bring himself to abandon the cause? Why was he chasing after a woman who didn’t want a fling? And even if he did succeed in wearing down her defenses, she’d said so herself—she didn’t do casual. She would want more from him.