Page 22 of Not in Love

Eli lifted an eyebrow. “Dude, you have a budget of fifty words per day, and you use six of them to give me shit?”

Sul smiled, pleased with a job well done, and went back to massaging Minami’s feet like the whipped traitor he was.

“What’s up with Rue Siebert, Eli?” Hark asked, with the tone of someone who wanted an answer ten minutes ago. Eli saw no particular reason not to give him one.

“We matched online. An app. And met up last night.”

Minami paused her game so forcefully, her thumb might need X-rays. “To . . . ?”

“Fuck.”

“Actually, I knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“Jesus, Eli. You rode her?” Hark asked, and Minami laughed.

“Good to see that after fifteen years in the US, Hark is still a living, breathing Irishism.”

“Shut your bake, Minami.”

Eli bit back a smile. “No one rode anyone, because she was having a rough night. But.”

I wanted to.

I’ve been thinking about her nonstop for the past twenty-four hours.

I’ve been distracted, irritable, and horny, and I wanted to text her first thing in the morning. I decided it was best to wait since her phone looked busted and she might need to get another, and fuck, I shouldn’t have hesitated.

Eli couldn’t remember ever overthinking an interaction with a woman this much. And he’d been engaged.

“But?”

“No buts, actually. She’s pissed because she thinks we’re trying to take over Kline.”

Minami gasped and clutched her throat. “Us? No way.”

This time Eli couldn’t hide his smile. Until Hark asked pointedly, “Is she going to be a distraction?”

“I don’t know.” Eli leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at Hark with a hint of a challenge. “Do I ever get distracted, Hark?”

Hark’s gaze narrowed. Thick, fat tension rose between the two of them—and then everyone burst into laughter. Even Sul’s shoulders shook silently.

“I just remembered!” Minami clapped her hands. “That one time Eli fell asleep while riding his bike?”

“And the Semper deal?” Hark spoke as if Eli wasn’t there. “He got so sucked up in it that he forgot to pick up Maya from overnight camp—way to traumatize her, asshole.”

“The bike thing was at three a.m., after a forty-eight-hour experiment, and we all know that ninety percent of Maya’s trauma was already there.” He took another swig of his beer. Then, zeroing in on Minami, he drawled, “Also, if we want to talk about unfortunate driving mishaps, let’s discuss that Missouri fair where you got a DUI on the bumper car rink.”

“It was thrown out in court!”

“Or”—he pointed his finger at Hark—“that time someone sent the entire Harkness mailing list a message about pubic liability insurance.”

“Embarrassing,” Hark acknowledged, “but not driving related.”

“Or”—Eli circled to Sul—“the guy who forgot his vows in the middle of his wedding ceremony.”

“I would like to be excluded from this narrative,” Sul requested.

“Rein in your wife, then. If the marriage is even legal.”

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