Page 12 of Surprise Me Tonight
“It was practice,” I reply firmly. “Good practice. If nothing else, I remembered how to pretend I am confident in an interview.”
She grins. “And how was he? Close up?”
I shrug. “Quiet. Broody. Like he’s carrying the weight of something.”
“Fit though?”
I hesitate. “Didn’t really notice.”Let’s not mention hisscent.
Fran arches a brow.
“I didn’t,” I insist, a little too fast.
She leans forward, eyes narrowing like she’s about to cross-examine me in court. “You’re pink.”
“I’m cold.”
“You’relying.”
I focus very hard on my cappuccino, but the heat in my face is already betraying me. Again.
Fran sits back, smug. “Uh-huh. So he’s fit.”
“I saidnothing.”
“No, but your cheeks did. Loudly.”
I groan and reach for the scone. “I hope they don’t call me.”
“No you don’t.”
Why does she always have to be right?
By the time I get home, my fingers are frozen and my head won’t stop replaying the last hour in uneven fragments.
The house greets me in its usual quiet. I hang up my bag, kick off my shoes, and tell myself once again that I haven’t made any decisions. Jess said she’d call this afternoon. It’s not official. There’s still time to politely back away and pretend it never happened.
But as I walk upstairs and open the wardrobe, the lie starts to wear thin.
Black trousers. Two cardigans, nearly identical. A line of plain blouses that wouldn’t offend a soul. The kind ofclothes you wear when you don’t want anyone to look at you too long, or ask questions.
I stare at the row for a long moment, then shut the door.
IfI were going to take the job — and that’s still an if — I don't have enough office worthy outfits. But then again… it’s not a normal office, is it?
He works from home. The man greeted me in jeans. Not casual-smart. Just jeans-jeans. And a T-shirt. No collar. No apology.
Maybe a full office wardrobe isn’t even necessary. Maybe this is a smart-casual setup. Maybe I’m bloody overthinking this.
I sit on the edge of the bed, pull out my phone, and open the shopping app I always scroll but never buy from.
Bigger sizes. Smart casual. Tops with actual shape. Dresses that suggest the person inside them isn’t just going through the motions.
I swipe past the usual navy-and-blush combinations and pause on a dark green wrap dress. Clean lines. A bit of stretch. Structured enough to look capable, soft enough to appear comfortable and simple enough not to scream for attention.
I imagine walking into that house, into that mess of an office, in something like that. Standing in front of his desk, composed, collected, and very clearly not someone to be overlooked.
Stupid.
