Page 31 of Until It Was Real

Eli stares at me for a long moment before nodding. “We good?”

“Always.”

“Now get out there and make friendly with my assistant. There’s not enough room in the reception area for plants for every one of your fuck ups.”

“I don’t piss her off that much.”

He barks out a laugh. I give him the finger before shutting the door behind me.

I nearly stumble when I notice Dakota leaning against the opposite wall. She waves a set of papers at me.

“Do you want to discuss these numbers now? Or do you want to crawl into your office and think up reasons I shouldn’t help on this project?”

I sigh. “Eli told you already?”

“He told me before you went into his office. I’m his right-hand person. I know what he’s thinking before he thinks it.”

I narrow my eyes on her. “Trying to bag yourself a billionaire?”

She rears back. “No, thank you. I do not want to live in a mausoleum or date a man who wears three-piece suits every day.”

“Hey!” Eli shouts from inside his office. “I resemble that remark.”

“Besides, everyone on Smuggler’s Hideaway knows he’s been pining away for Paisley for the past decade,” she says in a loud voice.

“I don’t pine anymore!” Eli shouts. Not since he and Paisley have gotten together.

“And you don’t whine, either.”

“Exactly,” he says.

“He’s a liar,” she whispers to me. “He’s a great big whiner.”

“And I know he was pining for Paisley,” I add.

She smiles at me and those green eyes sparkle. My gaze gets caught on her bowtie lips. My fingers itch to pull her into my arms and taste those lips. Does she taste of happiness? I don’t know but I want to find out.

I shove my hands in my pockets before I do anything stupid.

“The numbers.” She waves the papers again. “Now or later?”

I check my watch. “I can do now.”

“Alrighty then. Off we go.” She motions with the hand containing the paperwork but she must not have a good grip on them since they scatter onto the floor.

“I’ve got this,” I say as I lean over to collect the sheets.

“My mess. My clean up.”

She quickly gathers the papers together. She starts to stand and – bam! – her head whacks into my chin. “Ow,” she mutters before falling back on her ass.

I rub my chin. “You’re hard-headed.”

“Your chin isn’t exactly soft either.” She massages her head. “That’s going to leave a bump.”

I bat her hands away. “Let me see.”

I dig my hands through her hair and nearly moan at how soft it is. I didn’t expect her hair to be this soft, considering how curly it is. It would be entirely too easy to fist her hair and tilt her chin back before devouring her mouth.

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