I hear the scrape of the chair opposite me, realizing he’s joined me.
Probably to fire me.
Yep. My days at Forester+Blake are definitely limited.
“Or your boss flirted with you, and you hid your identity so that it would be less awkward for him.”
I inch my fingers down and look at him again. “That’s a generous way of looking at it.”
His lips quirk. “Maybe we both need some generosity right now.”
Okay, maybe he isn’t going to fire me.
Maybe.
Since he’s still looking at me, almost like he’s waiting for me to say something, I nod. Then, on impulse, I channel a little bit of Sasha and make a joke to lighten the mood. “I have to ask, do y-you spend all your weekends lurking on rooftops like Batman?”
He holds my gaze for another beat, laughs. “I could ask the same of you.”
“Good point.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m stalking him. I should say something so he knows I’m totally normal and not a crazed stalker.
“You caught me.” I lower my voice. “I am the Batman.”
For exactly one second, I feel cool.
And then I ruin it. “Wait, is it Batman or the Batman? Or should I be Batgirl, since I’m a w-woman?”
He laughs. “I could answer the Batman-vs.-The-Batman question, but then you’d realize what a colossal nerd I am and I’m trying to preserve my dignity.”
“Wait! You’re a comic book nerd? No way!”
Lips twitching, he waggles his eyebrows. “If you out me at work, I’ll deny everything.”
Then, unexpectedly, he ducks his head, looking a little bashful. “I came up here because I’m horribly overdressed.”
I blink in surprise. “What? No. You look amazing.”
I cut myself off before I can slobber over him like a Goldendoodle with zero chill.
He grins, clearly more amused by my lack of chill than I am. “Thanks, but my assistant didn’t read the invitation well enough and told me the event was black tie.” He lets his voice trail off, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, c'est la vie. “So here I am in the stupid tux at an outdoor event in the spring.”
He tugs at his collar and pulls a face. I try, unsuccessfully, to smother my laughter. When I don’t quite manage it, I bite down on my lip.
“It does look a bit hot,” I admit, then hastily add. “You know. Temperature wise. For the season.”
Dear God, I hope he didn’t think I meant he looked hot. In addition to looking amazing, which I already admitted.
Jesus. Why am I even allowed to speak out loud? Maybe it was better when I stuttered?
“Y-you could go down to the main room where they’re holding the silent auction. At least there it’s air-conditioned.”
“But I’d have to socialize with all the people who are dressed appropriately.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can stand their pitying looks.”
Not fooled by his hang-dog expression, I tease him.
“I guess you’ll just have to live up here forever, then.”
I make to turn, but he reaches for my arm. “Or you could stay here and keep me company.”
