“What? You want me to read it?”
He nods. “Please. I can’t.”
“Okay, yeah, sure. Um...” I take the phone from him and click the notification. And I quickly skim the message, a smile working its way onto my face. I clear my throat. “‘Nico, thank you for your email,’” I read, letting my free hand find his lower back. “‘After speaking with Laina earlier and reviewing your resumé now, I’m hoping we can set up a time for a phone interview, preferably this week. Will Friday afternoon at six your time work? Sincerely, Ms. Vera Kotovskaya.’”
“It doesn’t really say that,” he blurts out, but at the same time, he grabs the phone from me, his eyes immediately scanning the email. “She... she really wants a phone interview? I—I can’t... I can’t believe it.”
He shakes his head as he looks up at me, and I just smile back.
“Believe it,” I say gently. I motion to the desk. “Write her back. Six on Friday—that works, yeah?”
He nods, and then he swallows hard, like he’s still having trouble processing. I lean over and open the laptop back up.
“Write back to her.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Right.” He turns slowly, but then stops and spins back around to face me, his eyes now lit up. “She wants an interview!”
“Yes.”
“With me!”
“Yes.” I’m laughing at him now, and he’s grinning, too—hiseyes filled with excitement and a sort of cautious hope.
He swats at me and rolls his eyes, then he sits down and composes a very short response confirming that yes, he’s available for an interview on Friday at six. When he’s done, he swivels the chair back to me and reaches out to take my hand again, threading his fingers through mine. His cheeks flush the most perfect pink, and he tugs me gently back to him.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he admits.
I shake my head. I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but this is about the best outcome either of us could have hoped for.
He stares at our hands for a few seconds, then lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it lightly, like I had with his hand earlier. When he glances back up at me, my chest aches. He’s so beautiful. Beautiful and happy. And mine.
I squeeze his hand. “So... what do you want to do now? We’ve got the whole evening,” I say.
His eyes flash playfully. “I have a couple ideas.”
He stands up, releasing my hand and hooking his fingers under the waistband of my shorts. He tugs me closer to him so our hips meet, and his hand sneaks up under my shirt.
I suck in a breath. “I’m listening.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in a crooked grin, and he turns us around, his fingers still hooked into my shorts, and starts backing toward the bedroom door, stopping to glance out into the hallway as though to check that we’re alone. He knows as well as I do that my mom’s working in the garage, but he’s adorable and silly, and I go along with it.
He faces me again, still grinning, and his hands slip around to my back and then lower, until he’s cupping my ass, squeezing, pressing his groin into mine. He’s already hard—I can feel the bulge of his erection through his slacks. I close my eyes and groan.
“Nico . . .”
“We should celebrate, right?”
“Mm-hmm. Yeah. Definitely,” I mumble, letting my fingers inch under his shirt.
He stretches up and kisses just under my ear, and when I moan, he huffs a quiet laugh. His voice rough, he whispers, “Follow me.”
And he takes my hand and leads me toward the bathroom.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Nico
“Thanksforcoming.”Ilean against Alex’s shoulder and close my eyes, ignoring the rest of my half-eaten lunch sitting on the other side of me. He carefully slips his arm up and around my shoulders, resting it on the back of the bench.
