Page 76 of Power Move
“Davey! Remember the talk we had about flirting. I’m the fucking Maid of Honor!”
“Oh, well, then hot Maids of Honor,” I said.
She stopped dead and glared. “Are you fucking hitting on me, David?”
“Is it working?”
Eva set her jaw and shook her head. I fought the urge to pull her close and kiss the angry look off her lips. She was so adorably infuriating. The more pregnant she looked, the cuter she became. I now knew the difference between anger and Standard-Issue Grumpy Eva.
“Maybe. Depends on what you’re going to do with your mouth after.” Eva walked towards me.
“Oh, if you’d let me do thatlasttime, I would have gotten you off more,” I said.
“I wasn’t comfortable with it. But if you’re still hitting on me after talking about lactation consultants, I can trust you’re not going to get all weird.”
“The test was lactation consultants, Eva?”
“It’s whatever occurs to me. You said you would work. Thankfully, I give out awards generously for effort.” Eva tossed her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve been a good boy. So, maybe there is hope for you after all.”
“Just to clarify, is this a date?”
“I think we can call these dates, but to be certain, I wouldn’t say we weredating.”
I’d settle for that.
Eva
“Youreallywant an electric car?” Davey asked as we waited for a salesman at the Volvo dealership.
We’d kicked off work early to come south—at Davey’s suggestion. Dad was on his way—driving in rush hour.
“Yes,” I said. “Aren’t you all about sustainability these days?”
“I am about ROI,” Davey answered. “That is different than driving a toaster.”
I rolled my eyes. “I want one.”
“Do you even have a charger?”
“I will get one. We have one at the garage near work. You give privileges to those who drive electrics,” I said. “And if I am going to drive in some days, I’d take advantage of it.”
“Do we?”
“You really should talk to HR,” I sighed.
“That is what Daphne is for.”
“Daphne is not your everything woman.”
“As president and leader of the HQ, she is. When I was President, I dealt with that. When I became CEO, I stopped.”
A man approached, either recognizing Davey or knowing what a rich man looked like.
“Can I help you two?” He asked
“We’re looking for an EX30,” I said.
“Oh, come right this way,” he beckoned, going into the car’s features.
