Page 39 of Friend Me

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“Thanks, Marlee. I appreciate your help.”Cooper didn’t look up from his monitor when he spoke.

As of Wednesday afternoon, I’d made zero progress with him, even as his unofficial admin. We’d spent plenty of time together, but the meteors of affection I lobbed his way kept burning to ash in the thick atmosphere of professionalism he surrounded himself with.

Standing in front of his desk, I tilted my head to the side. “Need anything else?” He didn’t look nearly as stressed as he’d been before the wedding. But there was something in the slump of his shoulders—shoulders he always held back like a four-star general—and the way his chest seemed to cradle his heart. I wanted to comb my fingers through his hair, smooth the lines on his forehead. I wished I could pull off his wingtips and offer him a Tyler-quality foot massage, but I had Muggle fingers.

Had Jamila hurt him? Had they also argued at the end of the wedding weekend? Even I couldn’t convince myself of that. She’d called him every day although their conversations had been brief.

That had been Cooper since the wedding: brief. At lunch today, we’d been fine as long as we’d spoken about work. He’d talked about his upcoming trip to the East Coast offices until I’d almost face-planted into my Cobb salad. But when I’d asked him what he did after hours while he was traveling, he’d looked at me with his head cocked to the side and said one word: “Work.”

I’d pressed him. Surely he had a favorite restaurant or bar in New York. Someplace he and Jackson had gone on one of their many trips. But his mouth had gone tighter than the door seal on his Tesla, and he’d mumbled about having no time for play.

He cleared his throat.

Oops. How long had I been standing there, staring? “So nothing else?”

“No. Thank you.”

Clutching my tablet to my chest, I turned and walked across his plush rug to the door. That was exactly what he needed: play. To let loose, relax. I could help him with that. If only he’d let me. How could I convince him to let me help with Operation Hakuna Matata?

Focused on my thoughts, I didn’t notice the visitor standing at my desk until I was right on him.

“Tyler! I didn’t know you were coming up.”

“Hey.” He picked up a cherry candy from the bowl on my desk and twisted it between his fingers. Those fingers. I’d never given them a second thought before, and now I fixated on them at the oddest times. Why?

I blinked and sat in my chair, keeping my eyes on his face rather than those dangerous hands. “What can I do for you?”

He met my gaze and, after a second, the corners of his mouth turned up. “I haven’t seen you in the cafeteria lately. How’ve you been?”

“Good. Busy. Um”—I checked over my shoulder that Cooper’s office door was closed—“still working on Operation Prince Charming. We’ve been going to lunch together.”

He popped the candy into his mouth and spoke around it. “Good. Glad it’s working.”

“I don’t know that I’d say it’sworking.I haven’t made a lot of progress.” I logged back into my computer and glanced at the dozen emails that’d come in while I was in Cooper’s office.

“Anything you need me to do?”

Tyler’s fingers drummed against the side of his leg.No fingers!This sexual dry spell was really doing things to my head. Maybe I needed a new vibrator. My last few sessions with The Cooper—yes, I named my sex toys—had been lackluster. “No, thanks. I’m going to keep trying. It’s only been a few days.”

“I won’t keep you, then.” But he didn’t leave. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. And that drew my gaze to his lips. Stained pink with the cherry candy, those lips had kissed me senseless on Saturday night.No! Absolutely no thinking about kissing my friend.

By the Kepler Telescope, wherecouldI look? His nose. I had no sexual feelings at all about his nose. He had a nice nose. Straight. It’d press into my neck while he—

I swallowed and straightened a stack of papers on my desk. “Tyler, what do you need?”

“A-a group of us are going out tonight. For happy hour.” He tapped against his thigh. “Want to come? Not—not if you’re busy. Then you should go do that.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you have planned.”

“Oh.” I used to be spontaneous. Back when I was in college, I’d go to a friend’s dorm room after class and play video games. Or get a beer with Jackson after work. But on Wednesdays, Alma went to choir practice, and I hated the idea of leaving Dad alone. Plus, he’d never remember to feed Tigger. And who knew what evil a hangry Tigger would get up to?

But the thought of telling Tyler no just as we were repairing the friendship I’d almost shattered over the weekend made cold prickles erupt in my belly. He’d made an effort by asking me to join him and his coworkers. I had to try, too.

“I can’t tonight. I have to plan ahead to make arrangements for Dad and Tigger.” He blinked a few times, but before he could voice the questions I saw forming behind those hazel eyes, I rushed on. “How about tomorrow? I could ask my neighbor to look in on them.”

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