A sure way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
“And, to make it worse, he live-tweeted the whole date. The guy forgot that we followed each other, and that I could see his status updates.”
Zoey and I were bent over in a fit of laughter on our bar stools, listening to Zelda’s account of her date from hell. I’d finally taken her up on her offer for a girls’ night and dragged Zoey along. Luckily, they were hitting it off, just as I’d hoped.
“How did it end?” Zoey asked, while I checked my phone for the tenth time since we sat down thirty minutes ago.
My persistence paid off, because a text sat in my inbox.
Brogan: I went down the cookie aisle and thought of you.
A smile plastered itself to my face, and I quickly texted back while trying to listen to Zelda’s story.
Lainey: I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.
I focused back on the conversation between Zoey and Zelda just in time for Zelda’s lips to pull into a shit-eating grin.
“I tweeted him from the cab that he was stuck with the bill, and my lipstick wasn’t ‘ho red’ it was ‘guess you’re only getting your hand tonight’ red.”
“Oh my God. Did he tweet back?” Zoey asked.
She shrugged. “Who knows, I blocked his ass and got a free dinner out of the deal. I wasn’t too heartbroken over it.”
I tipped my beer bottle in her direction. “I want to be you when I grow up.”
“It takes a lot of practice on bad kissers, but I think you can handle the job.” She winked.
I took a sip of my beer and glanced at my phone again. My heart beat quickened when I saw another text.
Brogan: Definitely flattered. I bought 7 boxes and none of them tasted as good as the ones you made.
Lainey: I told you they’re out of this world.
Brogan: Does that mean you’ll come over and bake for me this week?
Lainey: Hmm…what’s in it for me?
Baking cookies for Brogan? Um, where was the signup sheet?
Zelda turned to me and asked, “How about you? Seeing anyone, Lainey?”
I looked up from my phone and tapped out of my message app. Not that anyone could see while I typed out texts under the table, but no sense in being careless.
“I don’t really know yet. It’s still in the early stages. Still waiting to see if it’s going to work out.”
Zelda raised her brow and leaned in closer, leaning her chin on her hand. “Oh? Anyone I know? There are a few cuties in the office.”
I felt myself go into deer in the headlights, “how do I answer this” mode. “You know that isn’t allowed. No, someone outside of work.” Technically this was the truth because I was seeing him out of the confines of work hours.
She sipped her martini and said, “You’ll have to bring him around.”
Oh, if she only knew. “We’ll see. He’s kind of shy about relationship stuff.”
“I can still hook you up with my tattooed friend if this guy doesn’t work out. Not a shy bone in that dude’s body, if you know what I mean.” She arched a brow.
“Sounds good.” Yeah, there was no chance in hell that was happening.
Zoey smiled at me, and I was thankful we were on the same wavelength about keeping the Brogan news under wraps. Even though I liked Zelda, I respected Brogan enough to not say anything to anyone who worked in the office. The worst that could happen to me was being fired—well, and blacklisted from any media company on the west coast—but I had a feeling the consequences would be worse for Brogan, like headlines in the tabloids and lost clientele, especially when our firm had the utmost discretion for clients. If we couldn’t keep our private lives private, what did that say in terms of our services?
My phone buzzed in my lap, and I picked it back up.
Brogan: Hmm… You’ll get a happy boss?
Lainey: I’ll think about it. Not really a good enough incentive as is.
I put my phone back down and tried not to smile like a sap. Flirting with Brogan was like a good latte or bowl of ice cream—utterly satisfying, but with zero calorie guilt.
“What about you, Zoey?” Zelda asked.
Zoey had been uncharacteristically quiet about this shirtless dude from the other day. I was dying to know what was up with them because it’d been a while since she’d been in a relationship as well. But when it came to her personal life, Zoey didn’t like when people pried—she’d tell me when she was ready.
She stirred the straw in her Tom Collins and stared absently at the drink. “It’s complicated.”
“Does this have anything to do with Shirtless Dude?”
“His name is Ryder,” she muttered, a note of annoyance in her voice.
While Brogan had the lean build of a swimmer, Ryder had muscles on his muscles. The dude was a walking, talking Chippendales advertisement.
“Ryder the Shirtless, that’s quite a name.” Zelda said.
I couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the best of me, and I broke our sacred rule and started to pry. “How did you two meet, anyway?”