We say goodbye, and I consider tidying up, but the leftover chips win me over. Munching on the saltydrug, I grin. It turned out to be a wonderful birthday, after all.
Knock. Knock.
I frown, checking my watch. I open the door. “What did you forget?”
But it’s not any of my friends I find on the other side. My eyes collide with the tousled, sandy hair, gray eyes, mischievous grin… and for the love of my ovaries, the man is clad in tight jeans and a leather jacket.
Xander Stone in a suit is a feast for the eyes. This bad-boy casual version of him is devastating.
I swallow.
He is NOT on the fucking list.
Chapter 8
Xander
Cora’s gaze scans me from head to toe, and a part of me would even suggest she likes what she sees.
She is wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, the most simple and casual of all outfits, and fuck, I certainly do like what I see.
What did you forget?Who did she think I was?
“Were you expecting someone else?” I lean against the door frame, making sure she can’t close the door.
The simple fact that I’m here should concern me, but I keep banishing the thought. I rode my bike mindlessly to clear my head. Somehow, I ended up at her bistro.
She wasn’t there, so I decided to send her a cake. It’s her birthday, for fuck’s sake. To do that, I needed to bribe Roxy to get me her apartment number.
I don’t even want to know how she got it. Or what her “I’ll cash the favor later” means.
Instead of ordering the birthday cake, I reached out to my lawyer, who didn’t appreciate the late call, but I pay him enough to keep his grievances to himself.
Now I’m standing here with an envelope in my pocket, to celebrate a birthday with a woman who never invited me.
I don’t know whether I like the image.
But I know I don’t want to be anywhere else.
It took me almost thirty years to understand the thrill of the chase. That’s what I think this is, because the other explanation… Fuck, there is no other explanation. I’m not interested in exploring another angle.
“What are you doing here?” She ignores my question.
I go with the least cool answer: the truth. “I didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday.”
Her face softens, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth, but then she frowns. “How did you know it’s my birthday?” Her frown deepens. “And how do you know where I live?”
I give her a slow smile. “I told you, I have my sources.”
“Are you stalking me, Xander Stone?” Her words miss the bite, and she is grinning, so I take that as an invitation.
“You wish,” I deadpan, and push my way in.
I’m immediately in a living room. A jacket hangs on a hook on the inside of the front door. I guess that’s the extent of her entry hall.
A sofa, two armchairs, a coffee table, and a dresser with bookshelves above it are all that fit into this room.
An open door to my right leads to the kitchen, or I guess it’s just a countertop with a stove and a cupboard. Another open door leads to her bedroom.
