“You’re cute when you’re annoyed.” He reaches over to ruffle my hair like I’m some small child. Which I’m not. I may be on the short side, but everyone tells me I seem taller than I am, especially when I’m scowling, like now.
I smooth the strands of my updo back into place. “So? What do you need now that we’ve established there is no fire?”
He shrugs on a T-shirt that’s on the back of a chair and then strolls to the freezer, pulls out a pint of ice cream and grabs a spoon from a drawer. He saunters through to the living room and plops himself on the oversized sofa.
I follow him.
He picks up the remote of his television and waves it. “The remote’s not working.”
I close my eyes and count to ten. I spend those ten slow breaths meditating on how many years I’d get if I murdered my boss with the aforementioned remote control.
Then I remind myself of just how much Sebastian pays me to be available. Even for ridiculous emergencies.
Plus, a murder trial would really impact my schedule.
So, I decide not to kill himthis time. Snatching the remote out of his hand, I press a series of buttons. The control is so complicated that only I—having read all three instruction manuals from cover to cover—know how to work it fully.
I grumble, “Don’t tell me—you let your idiot entourage mess with the television when they’d been drinking. They screw the TV up every time.”
He shrugs. “The boys came over earlier. Tommy wanted to playGuitar Hero.”
“Ryder’s guitar player wanted to playGuitar Hero?”
“It’s not my job to ask why. Or to deprive him of joy. He’s superb.”
I snort. “Here. It’s fixed now.” I toss the remote back to him. “And repeat after me… ‘I will never interrupt Emma’s night off again for a stupid reason.’”
Sebastian catches it with one hand and gives me a cocky grin. “I might have had another reason for interrupting your outing withDr. Love.I know something about your perfect date. He’s not so perfect.”
“You know something? How? And why?”
“I did a background check,” he says with offhand casualness, his attention now on the remote.
He pushes a few buttons. Cars zooming around a track appear on the huge screen. He leans back in satisfaction. “There. The race is in Monaco.”
“You did a background check on my date?” I repeat, dumbfounded.
His gaze slides to mine. “You can never be too careful. He sounded shifty. You said you met him at the grocery store. That’s where creeps try to pick up naïve wo—”
I throw my hands up in the air. “You didnotjust call me naïve.”
“I didn’t meanyouprecisely. But your last date was an asshole, so you don’t exactly pick winners…”
This time, I don’t stifle my scream. I grab another remote from the coffee table, the one to control the house’s music, and throw it at him. It bounces off his muscular chest.
“Ow. Hell, Em. Have some respect. I’m your boss.”
“I would have more time to meet good guys if I didn’t have to deal with so many of youremergencies.”
“Well, you should be glad that I did some digging. Because Mr. Grocery Store pickup is not really a pediatrician.”
I shoot him a skeptical look.
“Heisan unemployed incel. He’s apparently no stranger to that particular store. My source found his private social media account, where he brags about pretending to be a doctor to get women into bed. He’s also a disgusting misogynist, deeply in debt, and has a few catfishes going on.”
Fuck. I can tell by his demeanor that what he’s saying is true. It’s not the type of thing he would tease me about. Plus, his eyes are full of something close to… pity. Which I hate.
I flop down next to him. And with a giant sigh of defeat, my methodical brain scans over the night, and I reluctantly realize that Sebastian’s intel tracks with my intuition. My date wasn’t just boring. He seemed too good to be true. And there were things that didn’t add up.
