Page 25 of Relationship Goals

This woman’s completely thrown off my equilibrium. “Read anything?”

“Yeah, you know, a book? Doesn’t have to be a novel, though. Maybe you like to read poetry anthologies while you jerk it to Yo-Yo Ma.”

I cough, and wine sprays slightly.

She just grins at me, laughter in her eyes.

She’s making fun of me. I shouldn’t like it, but I do.

I like it.

I like that she feels safe enough with me to make that joke, even though I can tell she’s barely keeping a lid on her anxiety.

“You keep making jokes about me masturbating and I’ll make you watch me come next time,” I tell her darkly. I meant it as a joke, too, but I didn’t say it like I should have. It didn’t come out right, and I shouldn’t have even fucking bothered to try.

This is why I don’t say shit if I don’t have to.

I chance a glance up at her, scowling, and what I see nearly takes my fucking breath away.

Her berry-red lips are parted slightly, her eyes wide as she stares at me, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“I can’t tell if that was a joke or an invitation, but either way, I have to say I’m surprised to be included. I’ll be sure to make a really killer classical playlist for the occasion.”

Of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them.

I grunt, and the waiter magically reappears, this time with a white platter loaded with calamari.

“Oh, goodie, more things for me to have an allergic reaction to,” Abigail tells me sunnily.

The waiter gives me a nervous look.

“She’s joking!” I bark at him.

When she puts her delicate hand on my wrist, I go still, staring from it to her face in shock.

I can’t remember the last time someone touched me like that. Gently. Her fingers grazed my hand today, but this feels…different. Not accidental.

It feelsimportant.

“Don’t yell at the poor man, Luke,” she says, her green and hazel eyes dancing.

The waiter scurries off, but it’s not him I’m worried about.

It’s me.

I see exactly what it is that’s made Abigail Hunt successful in a city that tosses people aside like yesterday’s news as soon as the next best thing arrives.

She’s magnetic. I don’t want to look away from her. I like the way she says my name.

I shouldn’t want to have anything to do with her at all.

I shouldn’t want to keep watching her, the way the smooth column of her throat bobs as she swallows her wine.

I shouldn’t want to keep hearing the small, delicious noises she makes when she eats something tasty.

I shouldn’t wish that this was real, instead of something my asshole bosses put me up to.

Chapter Six

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