“So just a lot of parking tickets for you in the meantime.” Her eyes flick to the yellow markings in the road. “But I hear you can afford it.” Which is the point she was trying to make anyway as her gaze moves to the car. Low slung and sporty—I suppose it did set me back nearly two hundred grand.
“You’re right,” I eventually say, shoving my hands into the pockets of my dark jeans because all I want to do is step closer and hug her, even if she is all high heels andfuck offattitude. But it’s just a veneer.I think.But those dark glasses. What the hell is going on under there? “There are other things I want to say. Things I need to explain.”
The soles of her shoes scuff against the pavement, and I worry she’s about to turn away.
“Do you wanna ...” I gesture at the car at the same time as she says:
“Fine. But not now.”
It’s weird how little relief I feel.Tell me something.Tell me why my hands itch to touch you. Why my insides vibrate with need. Why I’m worried you might get on a plane and I’ll never see you again.
“Later. After work. I’ll meet you there.” She nods, indicating a wine bar on the other side of the street.
“Okay.” I nod a little too eagerly. “What time?”
“When I’m done.”
“Right.” I almost laugh. But I get it. This is on her terms.Again.But that’s fine.
She turns away, ending our conversation. I open the car door and slide in, feeling ... less than elated. But why?
Nothing else for it.The engine rumbles to life. I suppose I better head to the office to fill in the time between now and whenever “later” is.
“How’d it go?”
“Creeping feckin’ Jesus!” I exclaim as I open my office door to find Fin looming on the other side. “Is there something wrong with your office?” I demand, glancing at the espresso cup balanced in his palm.
“Yeah. It’s being redecorated,” he says, stepping out of the way.
“But we went through that not too long ago.” And a pain in the arse it was.
“I saidmyoffice, nottheoffices.” He throws this over his shoulder as he makes his way to my desk.
“Mila?”
“She’s taken a budding interior designer under her wing ...” His words trail off, his shrug kind ofyou know how it is.He sets the tiny cup and saucer on my desk, then leans back against it.
“Right.” It’ll no doubt be some talented individual from a disadvantaged background. Adding the offices (or office) of Maven Inc. to their portfolio will be a grand start to a career, I imagine. She’s a good person, Mila.
“I offered up my office, as it’ll be less disruptive than having the bedroom ripped apart,” he admits.
“Those were your choices?” It’s hard to keep amusement from my tone.
“Pretty much,” he answers happily. “I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Ah, you love it,” I scoff.
“Married life is a blast. And speaking of love ...” This time when his words trail off, he gives a comic wiggle of his brows.
“I’m meeting Ryan later,” I say, slipping off my jacket.
“That’s something, I guess.” His eyes dip as he crosses one ankle over the other.
“I think so.” Something fucking terrifying.
“Especially after yesterday.”
“No more jokes, Fin.”
