I blink, realizing I was too busy thinking about middle-aged men with mustaches to notice Evan was speaking to me. “Hm?”
“I just said that this looks a little intense.” He gestures to the mess on the floor.
“Oh, this is nothing. You should see our company office.” I flinch at my own words. “Actually, forget I said that. Hartstrings PR is super organized and extremely tidy at all times.”
He chuckles. “Hey, your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.”
“I’ll let you get back to it.” He turns to go, probably to catch Leo before he can run off from the bathroom.
“Wait, I need you…”
He halts, raising a single eyebrow at me. “Pardon?”
Don’t blush. Don’t fucking blush, you freak.
“I need you to meet with me sometime soon,” I clarify. “We should discuss your episode of Save A Hero.”
“Right. We’re doing the Family Safety Fair?”
I grin at him. “You were paying attention to my presentation!”
Something shadowy and sultry flickers in his hazel eyes, causing my stomach to flip. “Of course I was paying attention to you.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. It’s a miracle I don’t start giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Good. Great. So… tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Chapter eight
Chapter Eight: Lila
There’s a moment where we just sort of stare at each other, and I might be smiling like a fool, but I can’t figure out exactly why the air suddenly feels all staticky and sweet—like a hot summer day right before a thunderstorm breaks.
It’s just… he’s so sweet. There’s a tenderness about Evan that makes my heart feel mushy. It’s the opposite of Hale’s cold exterior, which makes me want to hiss like a cat and climb him like a tree, kind of like Noah’s kitten.
So, why do I feel drawn to them both? Shouldn’t one or the other be my type?
Come to think of it, do I even have a type?
“Lila?”
Crap.I did it again.
“Yeah?”
Evan is halfway out the door, but there’s a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “I thought you should know you have a sticky note stuck to the side of your head.”
I curse and clap my palm to my head, then grumble when the tacky side of the paper yanks out a couple strands of my hair. My scribbled writing is practically illegible, and I don’t even know why I wrote this down, but the note says,Hot people are important.
Which is a good point, I guess. Sex sells, but my goal is to keep it classy. I want to avoid repeating Noah’s mistake, after all.
But it’s true. Hot people are super important. Especially hot, single stepdads with pretty eyes and cute smiles.
When I glance back up at the doorway, it’s empty.
