Page 53 of My Sweetest Temptation

All I knew was that Liam worked all hours of the night, but I’d never bothered to ask what his job was.

With a casual shrug, he glanced over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the popcorn popping in the microwave. “I’m a messenger boy.”

“A what?” I chuckled.

With a playful grin, he turned to face me. “I pick up packages and deliver them to clients.”

“Really? That’s an actual job?” I inquired.

He laughed. “Yeah, Winter, it is. It pays really well, and I set my own hours.”

“That’s cool.” I tore open the candy bags as the microwave signaled its completion.

Liam removed the popcorn, held the edge of the bag, and shook it. “Fuck, that’s hot!” he muttered, blowing on his fingers.

“Well, duh, genius. You just pulled it out of the microwave,” I teased.

“Ha-ha, smart ass,” he retorted and tapped my ass with his foot.

As I prepared the bowl and crumbled the Butterfingers, I asked, “So, what kind of packages do you deliver?”

“It varies,” he replied, pouring the popcorn into the bowl. “Legal and financial documents, small parcels, written messages, digital content, and sometimes food.”

“Food?”

He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Yeah. With hidden messages.” He reached past my shoulder, snatched a popcorn kernel, and tossed it in his mouth, grinning as he chewed.

“Huh,” I said, pausing for a moment, adding the M&Ms into the bowl. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not really since I can refuse any job. It’s no different than being an Uber driver. The late-night jobs pay more, though, so they tend to be... well, let’s just say they’re often important.” He grabbed the drinks from the counter and set them on the coffee table in the living room. He then flopped onto my couch like a deflated balloon right as his phone went off. He sighed, tossed his phone beside him, threw his head back on the couch, and groaned.

“What’s the matter? I join him, sitting down next to him with the popcorn and cookies.

“God, Winter. I fucked up,” he admitted, stuffing a cookie into his mouth.

“What do you mean?” I asked with concern.

“By fucking one of my clients.”

“How did that happen?” I asked, not surprised since I’ve known him to be a player.

“We started talking and had drinks,” he explained. “And I ended up in her bed. I can’t believe I crossed that line. Now she wants to go out on a date, and I’m freaking the hell out.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And you’re worried about this because…?”

“Because she’s one our biggest clients. What if it gets awkward? What if she thinks this is a regular thing? I could lose my job over this if anyone finds out, or if she says anything.” Liam ran a hand down his face, clearly exasperated.

“Okay, but you don’t have to commit to anything beyond one date,” I suggested.

“What if she expects more? She might think we’re in a relationship or something after just one date,” he protested.

“Liam, you’re overthinking this. Just be honest with her and don’t lead her on,” I reassured him.

He rolled his head to the side to look at me. “Come with me,” he begged, his puppy dog eyes practically glistening with desperation.

“What?” I almost screeched. It was like Kara all over again. I was done being someone’s wingwoman!

“No. No way.” Then it clicked. “Wait a minute. Did you come over here to tease me with my favorite thing to do and my favorite snacks to bribe me to go with you?”

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