Page 66 of The Wild Card

“He said I looked beautiful.” I wrap my hands around the warm cup. “And then he helped me with my necklace clasp, and his fingers touched my neck, and I literally shivered, Sadie. Like a romance novel protagonist. It was embarrassing.”

She grins. “That’s not embarrassing. That’s chemistry.”

“It’s inconvenient is what it is.”

“Continue. The gala. How’d it go?”

I tell her everything. The way he’d held my hand the entire night, solid and warm. How I’d handled the small talk while he stood there looking intimidating, and somehow it worked. Margaret loving the food stories. Daniels nodding along.

“Wait.” Sadie holds up a hand. “His boss bought it? That was the whole point, right?”

I nod. “Seems like it. We even had his boss over for dinner. At our apartment.”

Sadie leans forward. “There was a boss dinner? At your apartment? And you didn’t lead with this?”

“I’m building to something.”

“Build faster.”

I tell her about the dinner. The short ribs that came out perfect. Margaret wanting the recipe. Daniels telling Crew he looked happy. The photos on the bookshelf that sold the whole thing.

“Okay, so the plan worked,” Sadie says. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is we um, kissed.”

“Emmie.” Her eyes widen.

“It was his idea!”

“I don’t care whose idea it was.” She’s leaning so far forward she’s practically in my lap. “What happened?”

I close my eyes, remembering. The way he’d looked at me—soft, almost vulnerable. The way his thumb had traced circles on my hip while we stood there, neither of us moving.

“He asked if it was okay. And I said yes. And then he just… kept checking. Like he wanted to make absolutely sure I was into it before he—”

“Before he what?”

“Before he kissed me.”

Sadie makes a sound that’s not quite a word.

“It started slow. Gentle. Like he was making sure I was into it.” I’m staring at my coffee because I can’t look at her while I say this. “And then I, um. I made a noise. And something just… shifted.”

“Shifted how?”

“Like a switch flipped. One second it was soft and careful, and the next his hand was in my hair and he was kissing me like—” I shake my head. “I don’t even know how to describe it. Like he’d been holding back and suddenly couldn’t anymore.”

“Oh my gosh.” She fans herself.

“His hand was on my waist, pulling me against him, and I was grabbing his shirt, and I couldn’t think about anything except more. Just more of him, more of his mouth, more of whatever was happening.”

“Emmie.” Sadie’s voice is strained. “You’re killing me.”

“When we finally stopped, we were both just… wrecked. Breathing hard. And he stepped back and put his hands on top of his head and just stood there, staring at me like I’d broken something in him.”

Sadie sits back, processing. “And then?”

“And then Murphy screamed for food and the moment was over and we just pretended like nothing happened.” I laugh, but it sounds hollow. “We’re really good at pretending things didn’t happen.”