“Don’t I get points for bringing your planner back?” He holds up... nothing. His hands are empty.
“You don’t have my planner.” My voice is flat.
“Ah.” He winces, patting his pockets theatrically. “Must have left it in the car.”
Tristan steps closer, his stupid alpha musk wrapping around me. “Admit it. You missed me.”
I jab a finger into his chest. “I missed you like a migraine.”
His hand closes over mine, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. “So what you’re saying is, I was on your mind all day, and you couldn’t get rid of me?”
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask, snatching my hand away.
Tristan doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, elegant package wrapped in matte black paper.
“Peace offering,” he says, holding it out to me.
I don’t take it. “You can’t just show up at my workplace.”
“I know.” He has the grace to look slightly abashed. “But I wanted to see you, and I figured a public place was less threatening than showing up at your apartment.”
He juts the package toward me again.
“What is this?” I ask, not taking it.
“Peace offering,” he repeats, holding it out to me.
I still don’t take it. “You could have sent a text. Or an email. Or, radical idea, returned my planner like normal people.”
“Where’s the romance in that?” he asks, his dimple making an appearance. “Besides, I wanted to deliver this personally.”
There’s something in his voice. A vulnerability that seems at odds with his cocky demeanor. I find myself reaching for the package before I can think better of it.
The wrapper slides away to reveal a bar of dark chocolate.Not just any dark chocolate. My favorite brand. The one I splurge on only for special occasions or particularly bad days. The one I had written on my shopping list, which was tucked into my planner.
“Have you readeverythingin my planner?” I push down the lump rising in my throat. It’s just a bar of dark chocolate. My favorite brand, sure, but it’s not like that means anything. It’s not like they actually care about me. It’s just a gesture. A bribe. But then why does it make something in my belly flutter just a little?
“Technically, Diego’s the one who read it,” Tristan admits. “But we returned your phone.”
“With coffee and a pastry. I noticed.”
“That was all Diego’s idea. He’s the thoughtful one.” Tristan smiles. “I’m just the charming one.”
“Is that what you call this?” I gesture vaguely at him. “Charm?”
“Usually works better,” he admits. “But I’m a little off my game today.”
I study him more closely. Now that I’m looking, I can see it—the slight shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. He looks tired.
“The chocolate was my idea, though.”
I stare at the chocolate, then back at him. “You came all the way to my workplace to give me chocolate?”
“I’m not above bribery,” he says with that damn dimpled smile. “But I also came to remind you about your lunch with the new donors tomorrow at 1 PM,” he says, pulling a small note from his pocket. “Per your planner. ‘Lunch with Mortons - BRING CATALOG.’“ He mimics my handwriting’s emphatic capitalization.
I snatch the note from his hand. “So you’re ransoming my schedule to me one day at a time?”
He grins. “Clever, right? Also my idea.”
