She runs her fingers over the sink. It has rust stains at the bottom, but it really is the perfect sink, full of character and patina, and it would go well in her house. Maybe Sea Captain knows what he’s talking about.
“I’ll take it,” she calls, and he nods, placated that she listened to him. She also picks out a matching faucet set and soap dish. After he rings her up—he takes credit cards, but he handwrites a slip on carbon paper—and helps her get the sink out to my car, we take off home.
When we get to her house, we bring it into the master bathroom. Even on the floor, it looks like it’s been there the whole time. It belongs. I’m itching to get it set up, and it’s not even my house.
“Need help?” I ask. “I can come over on Saturday.”
“You know about plumbing?”
I nod. We’re standing so close in her vintage bathroom, and I think about the last time I was here. Best to not do that. We’re friends now.
Her face falls. “I can’t do it Saturday.”
Suggesting another day is on the tip of my tongue, but her eyes shift away, so I’m guessing this is about more than a scheduling conflict. “What is it?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “My boss wants me to have brunch at his house. With Nathan.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t thought about this. Since we can’t be together, she’s totally free to see other people. Even that ass-kisser.
Seeing the pissed look on my face, she hastily continues, “I don’t want to go, but I think I have to.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“Josh, I think you understand when you have to do something because it’s expected of you.”
She’s absolutely right. I do. But it doesn’t mean I have to like this.
16
Evie
Straightening my sweater, I debate this outfit for the tenth time, but I’m going to be late to brunch at my boss’s house if I don’t get my ass in gear. A chime from my phone on the bathroom window ledge sends a little jolt of excitement through me when I see it’s from Josh.
You kicked so much ass this week. I’m an idiot for ever doubting your instincts.
A thick wave of delight washes over me, and I take a second to calm my nerves before responding. You made it easy by snagging a second offer.
Leveraging the proposal from another sex toy company lit a fire under Caligula to improve their rates, which they did—beyond what I’d even hoped for. Yesterday, the vice president of the company faxed a new contract before my morning coffee had cooled enough to drink. After reviewing the new terms, I gave Josh the thumbs up, and the deal was inked by the end of the day.
It was the most fun I’d had at work in ages.
Unlike so many of the firm’s other clients, Josh wasn’t out trying to scam his customers or screw over his employees or find some legal loophole to avoid paying taxes. I honestly hadn’t realized how much that aspect of my job had weighed me down.
When Josh doesn’t respond, I set the device down, needing to rein in my longing.
He’s my client. My very off-limits, sexy-as-hell, sweet-as-a-lollipop client.
No matter how badly I want him, no matter how intense the desire, I need to put my feelings on lockdown and focus on his business interests. Even if it kills me.
Clenching my eyes, I try to forget the way he moved against me. How he moved inside me, stretching me and making me come so hard, I thought I’d seen the Northern Lights. But the hardest part is how much I miss him as a friend. Even though we haven’t known each other long, Josh Cartwright has carved an indelible mark on me, whether I want to admit it or not.
My cell chimes, injecting me with a shot of adrenaline.
What are you wearing?
I stare at his text, wondering where this is headed, but before I can ask, another message pops up.
Just want to make sure you’re dressed appropriately for this brunch.
A smile lifts my lips. He remembered. I’m tempted to tell him I’ve already changed three times and that nothing I grab seems right. I don’t want to look too lawyerly or too informal.
The sound of my fingers tapping on my phone is amplified in my small bathroom. So this is merely a professional courtesy?
Exactly. Plus, I don’t want that asshole perving on you.
My smile widens. You’re so considerate.
I am, aren’t I? You should send me a selfie just to be sure. I can be an unbiased second opinion.
Warring emotions bloom in my chest. On one hand, I love that Josh is texting me again, but we’ve agreed not to pursue anything more. Although this seems innocent enough, him teasing me makes me want to bask in his attention. Which is dangerous because I’ve stuffed all of my emotions into a closet, and he’s here playing with the lock.
I’m waiting, Mills.
I’m probably being a total spaz. Just because he’s joking with me doesn’t mean he wants anything more. Truthfully, I love having him as a friend. No one else indulges me when I want to nerd out and talk about restoring my house except Josh. And that sink he helped me find? It’s perfection.
Before I can change my mind, I pull up my camera phone, hold it above my head, and smile as I take a quick shot.
As it sends, I dab on a little lip gloss and powder my nose. His response comes a minute later.
What the fuck is that? Go change right now.
My mouth drops open. I didn’t think you could go wrong with a black V-neck sweater, dark jeans and boots. Unless wearing all black is too morbid, but that’s why I have my long gold necklace and a few bracelets.
What’s wrong with my outfit? I text back.
Studying the photo, I realize I have a big, toothy grin. But since I’m friends with Josh, I don’t think I should be trying to impress him. That would be girlfriend territory. Friends can do stupid smiles.
Excuse the language, E, but your tits look amazing. So does that smile.
Heaven help me. This man.
A laugh escapes me as I respond. Excuse me, sir, but my tits are covered. What’s the problem with this outfit? Do I look too busty?
You look stunning as always, gorgeous. Too good. Which is why I want you to find your ugliest sweatshirt, preferably something with stains that smells like your dog, and toss it over that top.
God, I miss him. Biting my lip, I debate what to say.
I thumb out a text and erase it. Type it again and hit delete.
Finally, I get the balls to ask what I really want to know. Because if he says no, then he’s over us, and this is just Josh, my friend, teasing me. Not Josh, my former lover, having any kind of feelings for me.
Really, the idea that Josh Cartwright could have feelings for me is almost laughable. Except… except I wonder if I was wrong in how I handled this whole situation. Because going to lunch with Nathan doesn’t feel right. At all.
Are you jealous, Josh? I hit send and hold my breath, wondering.
His answer comes immediately. Fuck, yes, I’m jealous.
Frowning, I reply, I’m not trying to make you jealous. I swear nothing is going to happen with my coworker.
Because I can’t help myself, I add, I promise I’m thinking of you.
I know I’m playing with fire, but the last thing I want is to hurt him. Especially when Josh is who I want. Josh is who I fantasize about. He’s the one who consumes my thoughts.