Page 87 of Sass

“Ouch.” He grabbed my waist to steady himself.

“Sorry.” And without thinking, I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Chris flushed and his gaze jerked to Jenn who was staring at us with an expression caught somewhere between surprise and concern.

Shit.

Jenn caught my gaze and held it. “Okay then. That was sweet.” She turned to Chris. “Nice to see you, Kip. Or should I call you Chris?” she asked with barely hidden glee.

Chris shot me a look. “Kip is good.”

She smirked. “I thought so. Then Kip, it is. I’ll look forward to seeing you at one of our legendary Steadman family dinners sometime soon.”

Chris blanched and I fired Jenn a threatening look which she dutifully ignored. “And my work here is done.” She patted me on the cheek. “See you kids in an hour. Behave yourselves in front of the toddler.”

I called out as she headed down the stairs. “I don’t suppose it’ll do any good to ask you to keep this to you and Kev?”

She laughed. “Your chances rate right up with a snowball in hell, sunshine. I’d put my phone on silent if I were you.”

I groaned and closed the door before shooting Chris an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “Guess there’s no hiding now.” But surprisingly, he didn’t seem too worried. “Come on, Susie, I’m hungry. Uncle Leon must havesomethingfull of sugar and bad for us to eat, right?”

“Chocolate,” she whispered and dragged him over to the fridge.

I was following to vet their snack choice when a text from Jenn came through.If you haven’t already, you need to tell that boy how you feel. You’re not fooling anyone.

And another straight after.I’m happy for you.

The woman was scarily smart. She was also right. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep my feelings to myself, but at the risk of scaring Chris away, I had to try a little bit longer.

Then another text landed on my phone.Should I be worried?

Had I mentioned smart?

I pocketed my phone and prayed the answer to her question wasno.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Kip

I tiptoeddown the stairs from the flat, schooling the smile from my recently well-fucked face, the image of Leon sprawled boneless across our—hisbed still fresh in my mind. I’d planned on beating Drew into work, but instead found him sitting in my chair wearing a shit-eating grin.

“You do realise this ismyoffice?” I shoved his feet off the top of my desk and jerked my thumb at him. “Out.”

He got lazily to his feet, circling the desk to sit in the chair opposite. “According to my tally, that makes two weeks in the bed of a certain tattoo artist who shall remain nameless,” he announced loftily, steepling his fingers.

“And that’s none of your business,” I growled.

Drew grinned. “Merely an observation, you know, like the weather forecast, only mine seem to be a lot more accurate. Like how I know you’ll be coming down those stairsagaintomorrow.”

I eyed him up and down, noting the retro houndstooth jacket, black leather vest, and khaki slacks. “Then I suggest you observe your way out of my office to log into the point of sale before I make any of my own observations regarding the state of your future employment. Nice look, by the way.”

He beamed. “The classics never go out of fashion.”

I pulled a face. “Except bell bottoms. They were always a mistake. What the hell was wrong with those people? But before you go, how did the talk with Rhys go?”

“Oh, great.” Drew’s cheeks pinked. “He wants me to choose three of the designs for a more detailed workup. If he likes what he sees, he’ll get samples done. And we came up with a possible label name. FlatR. But with my name attached, not his.”

---