I stood there on the sidewalk, clutching my soup and my pharmacy bag, staring up at him. He looked down at me, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
“Well, I appreciate your help,” I said.
He laughed and handed me the sandwich he’d bought for me, still wrapped in its own brown paper bag. “Have you ever been mean in your life?”
I blinked at the question. “What?”
“Mean. Rude. Aggressive.” He was looking at me like I was some kind of fascinating specimen he couldn’t quite figure out. “Have you ever just pushed back?”
I shook my head, confused about where this was going.
“I didn’t think so.” He smiled, and it transformed his entire face. For a second, he didn’t look like the grumpy CEO who barely spoke to me. It was like he’d flung the curtains open to let in the sunlight.
He glanced at the pharmacy bag in my hand. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for my roommate. She’s sick. Really sick. Like, I thought she might be dying. I had to get her prescription and now I have soup that’s apparently worth going to war over, so thank you. I had no idea ordering soup required a degree in warfare.”
I was babbling. Oh God, I was babbling at my boss on a street corner while he looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t quite read.
Concerned? Confused? Mildly disgusted?
I had no idea.
So I did what any rational person would do in that situation.
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“Great!” I said, my voice suddenly several octaves too high. “Well! Thanks again! Bye!”
And then I turned and ran like someone was chasing me, skidding around the corner onto my street and immediately yelping when I spooked a trio of cats that had been feasting on scraps from a shredded garbage bag.
I didn’t stop until I’d climbed all five flights of stairs and was safely inside the apartment, where Abby was still alive on the couch, now watching some cooking competition show with half-lidded eyes.
“I got you soup,” I said breathlessly, setting the medicine, soup, and my sandwich on the coffee table.
“Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?” Abby asked. “Did you steal this stuff?”
“No, of course not. One crime a day is my max.”
Abby gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me for a second but was too sick to press the issue.
I collapsed onto the other end of the couch and buried my face in my hands.
My heart was still racing. My cheeks were still burning. I could still feel the phantom warmth of Dane’s hand on my back.
A thumbs-up.
A thumbs-up.
“Are you okay?” Abby asked, peering at me over her soup container.
“Never been better,” I lied.
CHAPTER 6
DANE
Iwas reviewing the latest subscriber numbers when I heard Lucas’s unmistakable voice echo through the office, followed by what sounded like a parade of jingle bells.
