I pick up my shake cup, hoping to see more mint chocolate goodness has magically appeared inside, but it’s still empty.
“Your mom has always hated me. She’d make both our lives a living hell if you picked me as your maid of honor instead of your sister. She’s going to make our lives hell anyway, but it would be way worse.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to stand up to her. To both of them. But I folded and I feel terrible. And I know I’m going to need your help a ton.”
A deep sigh escapes me. “It’s okay. You know I’d do anything for you. You’re my best friend. Just don’t put me in pink or red. I look terrible in both and I’m putting a hundred bucks down right now on the shrew pushing for one or the other.”
“Shut up, you look gorgeous in anything. And I’m not taking that bet because I would already owe you a big fat Benjamin. She immediately suggested both colors specifically for you.”
Laughing louder than I mean to, I glance at the open office door. Alex leaves it open most of the time. He’s told me I should never worry about being too loud, but I’m always afraid he’ll change his mind because I can getveryloud.
I like the door being open. I can hear him move around, shift in his chair, and type on his computer. Best of all, I get to hear his voice when he talks on the phone. God, his voice is so yummy.
The alarm on my phone goes off in my ear, signaling the end of my lunch break. “Shit, I’ve gotta go. Text me the dates, I’ll put in for it now. But only if you promise to ban The Dougie andThe Cupid Shufflefrom the reception.”
“Deal,” she says with a chuckle. “So much deal. Love you.”
“Love you more.” We hang up, and I let out another sigh. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Alex until he’s standing in the doorway. Usually, I hear him as soon as he stands up from his desk.
“Is something wrong, Amelia?”
I turn toward him, breathing in his spicy musk that’s my favorite fucking smell in the world. His jacket has long since been discarded, probably tossed haphazardly on the couch in his office, and his sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms.
“Not wrong, just…unexpected.”
The spot between his deep green eyes wrinkles in concern. I have a love/hate relationship with that little wrinkle. I love that he worries about me, but I hate making him worry.
“Really, Mr. Delgado, I’m fine.”
He leans against the door frame with his arms crossed and raises an eyebrow, causing the wrinkle to disappear. “Amelia, you know you don’t have to call me that unless we’re in a meeting or something.”
“Yeah, but I had to get rid of that worry-crinkle between your eyes somehow.” I grin widely.
“I donothave a worry-crinkle.” He shakes his head with a smirk and runs a hand through his dark hair, a few light strands catching the light. I love the silver gathered at his temples. And the way his jade eyes shine with laughter. I don’t have a thing for older men, but I have a thing forhim.
He’s always holding doors open, pulling out chairs, and hailing taxis for me. He would prefer I use his car service, but it feels wildly inappropriate. On the nights we’ve stayed at the office until almost midnight, I’ve allowed him to escort me home in one of those cars. He walks me to my apartment door and then says goodnight like a gentleman. Much to my dismay, never once has he followed me in and fucked me against thatdoor. He didn’t even come inside when I had a bad cold and he brought me soup a few weeks ago.
Maybe how we are with each other isn’t exactly flirting, but it comes damn close. We both skirt the line constantly. And I don’t know if it means the same thing to him that it does to me, but I doubt he has to keep an extra pair of panties in his purse at all times. I have to change mine at least once a day during the work week. His voice, his scent, his teasing… It does things to me. I sometimes imagine that he touches himself in the shower like I do, calling out my name as he comes, like I call out his.
I have no proof he does, but a girl can fucking dream, right?
Alex rarely talks about his personal life. I know he lives in a penthouse, hates cabs, and has a daughter who is about my age. He doesn’t wear a ring. He’s never brought a woman to the office—not even to the Christmas party. If he did, I would have to stop fantasizing about him. I might be half in love with him, but I couldn’t think of him the way I do if he were with someone else.
Also, I’m probably more than half in love with him.
God, it always makes my stomach ache to think of him having a girlfriend.
With everyone else, I can hide my emotions behind my well-trained stoic dancer mask. But he sees right through it. That crinkle of concern comes back.
“How was your milkshake?” he asks.
“Fantastic.” My cheeks heat. He’s an observant man. Not every boss would notice the bottle of Midol and the heating pad that show up on the days I order milkshakes. He did the second month I was here. The plus side to him knowing I’m on my period is that he mistakes the look of discomfort crossingmy face for cramps instead of a ‘please-don’t-have-a-secret-girlfriend’ stomach ache.
“Give yourself brain freeze again?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “Of course. You know I have no self-control where mint chocolate is concerned.” Milkshakes, coffee, alcohol, cookies, ice cream…mint chocolate is my weakness.
Well, mint chocolate and Alexander Delgado.
