Page 27 of Maybe You

Sutton is leaning against the door jamb, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re terrible,” he says with an awed look on his face. “Fucking awful.”

I glare at him.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I work here,” he says with the highest level of smugness I’ve witnessed from him since I met him.

“You really don’t.”

“Almost.” He shrugs, pushes himself off the wall, and saunters inside. “You’re scaring the rats. They’re running away from this street in droves. Oh shit. You’re like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, only in reverse. You don’t take the rats with you. Which is smart, actually. I always wondered what that dude ended up doing with all the rats that followed him out of town.”

“Didn’t he drown the rats in a river?”

“To be fair, I’m not putting it past the rats that they’re all heading toward the East River as we speak.”

I put the mop down just so I can hold both middle fingers up for him.

And then I frown as I take a good look at him.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I ask.

He looks down at himself, then up at me.

“The younger generation really is doomed,” he says. “This is a tuxedo, grasshopper.”

“Yeah, no, I recognize that you’re wearing a fancy suit. Why are you wearing it here is the question.”

“Quinn dragged me to one of his charity galas as his date, and the dinner ran long. I snuck out sometime between when the band started playing and dessert. I know I’m late, but I’m willing to make up for it, so feel free to punish me any way you want to. I’m at your mercy.”

I stop cleaning the floor and look up at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“A deal is a deal,” he says. “I’ve decided to explore uncharted waters and be responsible for my actions. Just this once, out of curiosity to see if the experience lives up to the hype.”

“And?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Can’t say I get the appeal so far, but to each their own, I guess.”

I nod at his clothes. “You get that showing up here is kind of pointless when you look like this, right?”

“You know, a part of me has always suspected I’m too pretty to work, but it’s nice to finally get the official confirmation.”

“I meant the tux,” I say.

He just grins, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s a self-deprecating edge to that smile.

“Easy fix,” he says as he peels the fancy jacket off and casually drops it on a bench in front of one of the lockers. He proceeds to roll up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt, exposing his forearms. His very nice forearms. This is like déjà vu.

I know he’s good-looking.

Okay, good-looking is an understatement. Ridiculously handsome is probably a bit more accurate.

So, yeah, I know he’s ridiculously handsome. But he’s also unbelievably exasperating, insanely arrogant, and a lot distracting, so the fact that he is so ridiculously handsome is information that I registered at one point, but it took a back seat in my brain in favor of all that other, more prominent stuff.

But now… Sutton in a tux is a sight. Sutton in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up is somehow even more impressive.

I frown at him. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to ruin your clothes?”

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