“I can make that happen. Evan.” Gregory turned to me. He pulled me into his arms.
Oh, goodness. I could live here forever. He was warm and cozy. How was it that he was touching me so much? I leaned my face against his broad chest. “How often do you work out?”
“Excuse me?” Gregory said.
“You must work out a lot. You’re very firm everywhere, not at all cushy and soft like I thought you might be. Either one would be totally fine—firm muscles, cushy belly. I don’t have a preference, as long as it’s you, Hot Gregory.”
Gregory blinked at me. Oh, I was saying too much. This was why I didn’t drink a lot.
Wait. I didn’t drink tonight. Just one beer and it took me nearly an hour to finish it. Had I finished it?
“What happened to me again? Drugs? Am I going to be fired?”
“Absolutely not,” Gregory said. “You are going to be placed in my car, though. And I think perhaps the quickest way to do that would be to pick you up.”
“Oh, okay. I’m fine with that.” Being swept into my super-secret crush’s arms didn’t sound bad at all.
In theory, I loved the idea of Gregory picking me up. But then the room seemed to overturn itself when Gregory lifted me into his arms and cradled me against his chest.
“Oh, goodness.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out all high-pitched and squeaking, but that had to be because of the drugs. I didn’t actually talk like that.
We walked out of the bar. He had his car parked directly in front of it, as if he owned the place.
“Do you own the bar?” I asked.
“No, why would I own the bar?”
“You own a lot of things. Greg says that you have been investing in retail properties for as long as he’s known you.”
“Well, that is accurate, but no, I do not own this bar.”
“You should buy the bar, and then we could have karaoke Friday every day.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Gregory set me down gently in the passenger seat of his sports car.
“This is more cozy than I expected.”
“Well, you might be the first person who’s ever ridden in this car.”
“Second person,” I said. “You’ve ridden in this car.”
Gregory chuckled. “I suppose you are right. I have ridden in this car.”
“I like that.”
“The car?” he asked as he turned it on and began pulling out.
“No. Your laugh. It’s nice. And your smile—when you’re happy, it makes your eyes crinkle. I bet not many people get to see that. That’s probably why your face is so smooth. You have no laugh lines, just frown lines. Do many people get to see you smile?”
“No. They do not.”
“I got to see it. The first time I met you, I got to see you laugh. Now I’m making you laugh today.”