Crisis averted for now. And I did eat. Sort of.
His response is immediate.
Aaron
‘Sort of’ doesn’t count. I’m ordering delivery to your office. No arguments.
Me
You can’t just send food to my office. People will talk.
Aaron
Let them. I don’t work there or will ever be back there. Besides, you need to keep your strength up for tonight.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. Even through text, he manages to make me blush.
Me
I still have the partners’ dinner tonight.
Aaron
I remember. But after, you’re mine. Night two of six, remember?
Mine. The possessiveness in that simple word shouldn’t send a thrill through me, but it does. I’m typing a response when another text comes through.
Aaron
Food will be there in 20. Eat it. Doctor’s orders.
Me
You’re not a doctor.
Aaron
No, but I play one in bed.
I laugh out loud. This man is ridiculous, yet exactly what I need right now.
Me
You’re insane.
Aaron
Yet you’re spending the next five nights with me anyway. What does that say about you, Counselor?
Me
That I’ve temporarily lost my mind. Back to work now.
Aaron
Eat your lunch when it arrives. I mean it.
I set my phone down, the smile lingering on my face. Twenty minutes later, right on cue, Eliza appears in my doorway, balancing a delivery bag that wafts the unmistakable scent of star anise and cilantro.
