Page 35 of Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire

I’m about to sit next to him when I notice a recliner to the right and decide to sit there. I don’t want to sit on a black couch next to Ethan Rosser. I don’t know what could go down. My fingers want to touch him, and I don’t trust myself to not run my fingers accidentally against his thighs.

"So, you were saying?" He turns toward me and leans forward, sporting a little smirk on his face. I wonder if he knows why I took a different chair.

"I was hanging out with my friends," I say quickly in explanation. "One of my best friends, Ella, just got back from Europe. Her fiancé or boyfriend or whatever decided to take her on their first date and they just got back."

"What?" He frowns, confusion apparent in his expression. "Okay, this story sounds like a lie already. I’m sorry, Sarah, but I’m afraid you’re not exactly Hemingway here."

"No, it’s not a lie. I know it sounds weird." I ignore his comment about Hemingway. I’m not going to take it personally because I know the story sounds fake, but as they always say, truth is stranger than fiction.

"Yeah, it does sound weird that someone’s fiancé would take them to Europe on a first date." He pauses. "Like, how are they engaged if they’ve never been on a date? Unless you’re saying it’s some sort of arranged marriage? Or was she on that dating show,Married at FirstSightor whatever?"

"No." I sigh, though I find it quite funny that he’s talking aboutMarried at First Sight. I’m shocked he’s even heard of the show. "She’s not been on a dating show, though maybe that would have been less dramatic." I don’t really want to get into all this, but I suppose I have to, to have it all make sense. "Let me explain a bit better. My best friend, Ella, is now dating her brother’s best friend. She’s known him for a long time. And while they were hooking up and stuff already, they also fell for each other, but they’d never really been on an official first date, nothing romantic, you know? So, Colton wanted to take her to Paris and London and wherever else they went, if that makes sense."

"I guess so. So, you’re saying the friends with benefits became more?" He recoils as if the thought makes him nauseous. I guess he’s not someone who will find himself in that position. I’m not sure why that realization upsets me. It’s not like he and I are friends with benefits. Though, I know I wouldn’t even have to be friends with him to enjoy the benefit of his big hands.Stop it, Sarah. Focus!

"Yeah, you could say that, though they weren’t technically friends with benefits, but… Oh, you know what I mean."

He shakes his head. "Not really. I sure hope their story doesn’t get around the city, because I would hate to think any woman that I’m sleeping with thinks that there’s a possible engagement coming at the end." He shudders.

"Okay, point taken," I say, shrugging. "If I meet any of your women, I’ll be sure to let them know."

“Thanks."

"Lucky ladies." I roll my eyes.

"Lucky them, indeed," he says, winking. "So, continue, your friend came back from Europe?"

"Yeah, and we were drinking and having fun to celebrate her being back in the city. Us girls love to get together weekly and just let loose." I shrug. "I mean, I’m sure you and your boys do the same weekly or nightly?"

"Rarely."

"Uh-huh."

"I’m guessing your other friend was there, as well, the one from the bar that night?"

"Yeah, Isabel was there." I nod my head. "So, it was Ella, Isabel, and me, and we were drinking tequila shots and—"

"Maybe you guys need to stop drinking. First night you were drinking, I see you dancing on tabletops, pretending you’re a stripper called Slutty Sarah."

"It was Slutty Stripper, actually, and please don’t call me that again." I want to gag at the name. Yet again.

"Sorry, I won’t say it again. So, one night you’re dancing on tabletops. And now you go drinking and you’re sending inappropriate messages to the company website."

"Intranet," I say, correcting him because his words are making me sound and feel like a lush. There’s no way he’s going to believe I haven’t had alcohol in a while before those two nights.

"I know it’s an intranet," he says. "But what you did was inappropriate, Sarah. Do I need to sign you up for Alcoholics Anonymous?"

"No." I let out a deep sigh. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry. It was a horrible lapse of judgment in both instances. Though, technically, I was dancing on the tabletop on my own time, and it was none of your business. I did that because I wanted to have fun and let loose." I don’t want to explain why I wanted the attention that night, so I move on quickly. "But anyway, that doesn’t matter right now. Last night, I wasn’t even the one typing up the message. There’s no way I ever would’ve posted something like that. I’m not that sort of woman." I feel indignant now. Granted, he doesn’t know me well, but does he really think I would post something like that on purpose?

"So, who posted it?" The disbelieving tone is there again. He’s so smug, it’s infuriating.

"So, I got an email from Dave. You know my coworker in copywriting."

"I know him." He nods and hums a show tune, and we smile at each other for a few seconds.

"Basically, he sent me an email with a link to show me that the company intranet was up. So, I guess I opened it and I didn’t close out of the site properly. And then, Isabel grabbed my phone and we were all joking around that I was going to make a personal ad because I’m single," I cringe slightly inside, "and I’m ready to mingle." I cringe even harder at my honesty. I wonder what Ethan is thinking about my comments. I wonder if he’s wondering what I mean by ready to mingle. My gosh, he’s going to think I’m trying to get laid.

"Well, we thought it would be fun to write something goofy. I was never going to place the ad in the papers or anything. And I certainly was not going to post it on an online dating site, and I did not intend to put it on the intranet. Why would I do such a thing? I don’t even really know how it happened. Isabel doesn’t, either. I think she must’ve been super drunk, as well, and not noticing where she was typing, and I don’t know how it ended up getting posted." I pause. "I feel absolutely awful, Ethan. I really do. You must think I’m an idiot, an even bigger idiot than you already thought I was." My skin is burning up, and I feel like I’m going to cry. I don’t want this man to think I’m a dumbass.

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