Page 83 of We Met Like This
“And you are apparently a terrible judge of character. Look at all these things I’m learning about you.”
He shook his head with a smile and turned his attention back to his laptop.
My phone buzzed in my hand. “Speaking of sisters.” I turned the phone to face him.
“Fruit tray?” he asked.
“She’s having a barbecue next weekend and I’ve been granted the opportunity to bring the fruit tray.” My voice was laced with sarcasm.
“I take it things aren’t… better between you two yet?”
“Not really. I mean, I told her that I lied and what really happened and we talked it out but she’s still irritated. It’s going to take her a minute to get over it.”
My phone was still facing him when his expression went slack.
“What?” I asked, turning the phone back to me to see if anything new had come through. It was only our already exchanged texts. The most recent one literally just saidfruit salad. The previous texts that he would’ve been able to see were me apologizing and telling her I had been drunk and how I said stupid things when I was drunk.
Those probably reminded him of my drunken voicemail, of my chaotic nature.
“You ready to see your website?” he asked.
Maybe that’s why his expression had changed—he was nervous. I tucked my hands under my thighs and focused on the screen. “Should I be scared? You have a very intense look on your face.”
“I’ve been told I have RBF.”
I rolled my eyes. “You have not. Your default is golden retriever.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means you’re adorable and ready to please.”
“I am,” he said in a scratchy voice that my body was fond of.
His finger dropped onto the return key and my brain was not ready for what popped onto the screen. I let out a sharp gasp. The website header was a backlit man, the shadows in front of him spelling out my agency name like we’d talked about. His features were too dark to make out any details, just like I knew they would be. But he looked amazing. His chest, despite the shadows, defined and muscular. The messy bed shone bright behind him, and images of being in that bed with him rushed into my mind along with the emotions attached to them.
“You hate it?” he asked.
“No… I…” I tried to slow down my racing heart, thethrobbing between my legs, with two deep breaths and said airily, “You did all this after I left?”
“Yes. I had some energy I needed to burn off,” he said, that sparkle returning to his eyes. “You didn’t?”
“Wish you would’ve done this while I was still there.” I nodded toward the shirtless pic.
He let out a throaty laugh. “Then you like it?”
“It’s definitely worth a coffee, maybe two.”
“I have an option with just the bed too,” he said.
“No, I like half-naked men,” I teased. “And so will the rest of the world.”
“Right,” he said, his voice tight.
“No, but really. It’s great.” I studied his face. His unreadable expression was back. “You didn’t… I hope I didn’t… Did you feel guilted into doing that? If so, just the bed is fine. I don’t want you to…”Feel pressured into putting yourself onlinewas how I almost finished that sentence, but instead I trailed off, letting him fill that in however he wanted.
“No, I didn’t. The more I looked at the empty image with just the bed, the more I realized you were right. A person would make it more compelling. And after I took some practice shots, I knew you were also right about nobody being able to tell it is me.”
“Yes, I like this trend of recognizing I’m right about things.”
