“It took me a while to get used to working for you, but yeah, I like it.”
His jaw rippled, but his brow softened as he looked me over. “I interrupted something yesterday.”
I waved him off. “It isn’t a big deal. I was trying to figure out a way to turn him down, so your timing was pretty impeccable. Your delivery could have been less brutal, though.”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
I wondered how much he’d seen. It made me a little queasy to think he’d witnessed me flirting back. I hadn’t meant it, but it didn’t look good for me.
“It wasn’t him in particular I was enjoying.” I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, searching for a way to explain. “This is the first time in about a year a man has looked at me as more than an incubator or random harried mother. It was nice to be seen as me for a few minutes.”
He gave a sharp nod. “I see.”
“It won’t happen again, though.” When his brow winged, I hurried to clarify. “I mean, I won’t put myself in that situation at work, even if you claim you won’t fire me. You don’t have to worry about me hitting on men in your buildings.”
“That wasn’t what worried me.” He turned away, his hands flexing again.
“What were you worried about?”
“Will you be dating?” Elliot was always controlled, but he uttered his question like each word was tied up in rope and under his whim.
A puff of air burst out of me. “One day, in the future, maybe. That’s not for right now. I don’t have any desire for that. The attention, though…that was nice.”
Another nod, then he pushed to his feet and offered me a hand. I slipped mine in his, and he pulled me up faster than I expected, sending me colliding into his chest. Instead of moving back or steadying me, he wrapped me in an embrace.
“Hug,” he softly demanded.
“Okay.” I circled my arms around him, my stress from the last twenty-four hours slipping as his heart thumped under my cheek.
And then, there was a light pressure on the top of my head that disappeared as quickly as it had come. I must have been mistaken, but I swore it felt like Elliot had kissed my head.
Which would have been crazy because he wouldn’t.
This hug was sweet and kind. Despite his marble-like facade, time and time again, he’d shown me he was capable of it.
I tipped my head back. He was looking down at me, a flush rising over his cheeks. What had I done to make him angry this time? It was probably my clinging.
I stepped back, slipping from his arms. “I’m going to check on Joey.”
“All right,” he clipped, confirming he was unhappy with me. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave. I’ll be waiting.”
My stomach was still a bag of slithering snakes when I followed Elliot out into the garage a couple hours later. He carried Joey’s car seat like it weighed nothing, the sinews of his forearms rippling as he shifted her. He looked good like that. Incredibly good.
Which only added to the squirmy feeling and helped nothing at all.
I stopped him when he headed to his car. “We can just take my car. It’s a pain to transfer the car seat base.”
“We’ll take my car.” He opened the back door. “I have a base now too.”
Oh god, the snakes…they were writhing up to my chest. There, in his back seat, was a base identical to the one in mine. Elliot easily snapped Joey in and brushed her short hair to the side before turning to me.
“What do you think? Does she look secure?”
My inhale was jagged. I’d seen him hold Joey countless times now, but this…I didn’t know how to cope with him installing a base for her seat. His beautiful, pristine car now had a place for my daughter to ride safely whenever necessary. This gesture was probably practical and simple to him, but to me, it was like giving me a bouquet of my favorite flowers. If I was another type of girl, I would have swooned.
Even though this was Elliot, I forced myself forward to check. He didn’t do anything unless he could do it well.
I gave her seat a jiggle and booped her nose. “We’re going for a ride in Elliot’s car, Joey-Girl. Won’t that be fun?” She flashed me a drooly smile, and I peered at him over my shoulder. He was closer than I thought, standing over me, observing our interaction. “I think that means she’s down with the idea.”
He nodded. “Let’s go then.”
I shopped at thrift stores on a regular basis. Target if I was feeling fancy.
Elliot took me to a department store so far outside of my budget it wasn’t funny. My mother would have shopped here, but not me. My reservations were high, and he knew it, but he’d asked me to trust him, so I did.
He pushed Joey’s stroller, guiding me to a private room with far too many mirrors, tufted velvet settees, and a chandelier that sparkled like diamonds.
My own personal shopper led me behind a curtain where there were racks of clothes she claimed to have picked out for me. How she knew my size, I had no idea. I didn’t even know what size I was anymore.
“Mr. Levy said you need work clothes. He specified short sleeves,” Nan, my shopper, informed me, bustling around the racks. The two of us couldn’t have been more opposite. Nan was a forty-ish, tiny, platinum blonde wearing skintight leather pants and a silky camisole, but she’d picked out beautiful clothing that, at first glance, appeared to be close to my style.
Joey was being patient, and Elliot wanted me to do this, so I’d humor him and play his game. Maybe I could buy one or two things, but that was a big maybe. Then I caught a glimpse of a price tag, and it was an immediate no. Who paid four hundred dollars for pants?
My mother, for one.
Elliot too, since he’d brought me here.
Not me. The clothes I had seen were beautiful, but no. I’d have fun trying them on and try to re-create something similar at a thrift shop.
Nan put me in a pair of wide-leg trousers and a short-sleeved, sage-green cardigan. They both fit like a glove, and Nan was pleased with herself, pressing her hands together under her chin.
“This is perfect. Mr. Levy will love this,” Nan oozed, rushing toward the curtain.
“I doubt Elliot will have an opinion.”
“Of course he will. He asked for me to have you show him everything.” She ripped back the curtain, gesturing for me to follow her. Reluctantly, I did.
Elliot was sitting on the settee, rocking the stroller back and forth. He lifted his eyes from Joey to meet mine.
“I’m told you need to approve my clothing,” I said.
“I asked to see, not approve.” He scanned me from head to toe, but his expression was so inscrutable I had no idea what his opinion was. “Do you like this?”
“I think so.” I spun around to look at myself in the wall of mirrors, trying to focus on the cloth, not be critical of my wild hair and the shadows beneath my eyes.