Page 37 of Work with Me

I rubbed the center of my chest, trying to ease the sudden burn. I didn’t have any right to be jealous. Alicia, our consultant, was off limits. We couldn’t date. It was probably a good thing she had a boyfriend. I’d done a lot of selfish things in my life, but I’d never tried to tempt a woman to cheat.

Besides, she’d told Cooper she didn’t even like me. And that had hurt more than it should’ve. It definitely shouldn’t have bothered me that she was seeing someone else. I tried to loosen my jaw.

Fuck, why was I even there, about to eat lunch with her, solo? I shouldn’t see her anywhere but in the office. I stopped walking. I’d claim my gastric distress had come back.

She ran lightly up the steps to Linda’s Taquería, a ramshackle single-story house with a giant wooden deck behind it. She turned at the door, her face flushed from our walk and the skin visible through the vee of her button-up shirt glistening. “Coming?”

Who was I kidding? I’d follow Alicia anywhere.

We walked up the steps and inside, which was blessedly dark and cool and smelled of cumin and chile. My stomach growled.

“Table for two?” the hostess asked.

“Yes, and can we sit on the patio?” Alicia asked.

The patio?My sweat-damp skin cried out for the air-conditioned dining room.

“Sure.” She led us outside to the deck, which was shaded by a pergola. Flowering vines wove between the open wooden slats above, making it marginally cooler than the parking lot, where I could see waves of heat radiating off the gravel.

“Outside?” I flopped into the hot plastic chair.

She buried her nose in the laminated menu. “It’s so nice today. And I figured we could use the fresh air.”

Fresh air, my ass. Humidity clogged my lungs and made my T-shirt limp as a dishrag.

Alicia ordered unsweetened iced tea, and I asked for lemonade. I wished I could’ve ordered a margarita, but I didn’t want to put up with Alicia’s disapproving expression or the headache I’d surely get that afternoon.

After we’d ordered, Alicia folded her hands on her paper placemat and gave me a tight smile. “So, Jackson, are you enjoying Austin?”

“It’s a little warm for my taste.” I pulled the neck of my T-shirt away from my skin and flapped it to try to direct a breeze inside.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t even think— Would you rather eat inside?”

Yes.“No.” I waved her off. “This is fine.” If she was happy, she’d be more willing to help me with my code later.

“I guess I’m used to it, especially since it’s cooled off now. It’s not even supposed to hit ninety today. It’ll be comfortable tonight once the sun gets low.”

“Tonight. Thursday night.” I dragged the words out slowly. “I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Figure what out, exactly?”

“What you do on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Oh?” She dragged a finger through the condensation on her tea glass.

“You have a date.”

She blinked. “A date.”

“You know, going out to dinner and a movie, or maybe staying in for a little Netflix and chill?”

“Netflix and chill?”

“You know what I mean. You have a boyfriend.” Not a fiancé. She didn’t wear a ring. When she didn’t say anything, I widened my eyes. “Or a girlfriend.”

She laughed, and it was the first time I’d heard it. She showed her teeth—another rare occurrence in my experience—and the sound started high and ended as a low chuckle. “You think my life is so orderly that I have dates every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon?”

I smiled, too, and shrugged. “You’re just so…so organized.” I pictured her, like the gathering-supplies montage in a heist movie, lining up a strip of condoms, a bottle of lube, a candle, perhaps, on her bedside table, and then, businesslike, starting to unbutton her silk blouse—shit!No imagining her doing a striptease. I rubbed a hand over my eyes to delete the image.

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