Page 82 of A Ticking Time Boss

Carter looks up. “What?” he says, but he’s smiling too.

“I can’t believe we had sex last night.”

“As in, I’d never do it again?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or as in—”

“You know exactly the kind of way I mean it in.”

He chuckles. “Yes. I do. I’m pleased with it.”

“You look it, too,” I say.

“Says the woman wearing my shirt and a newly-fucked smile.”

I laugh, covering my face with the wide sleeve. “Guilty.”

“Come on. Eat. There’s good stuff here.”

“Did you buy the entire menu?”

“Pretty much,” he says. “Oh, and there’s ketchup in the fridge if you need sauce.”

I laugh and grab one of the grapes from the fruit plate, tossing it at him. He deflects with a butter knife and shakes his head.

“An animal,” he says. “The younger generations are so uncivilized.”

“I’m still only six years younger than you, kiddo.”

He nods sadly. “And boy does it show.”

I roll my eyes and dig into my food. Happiness is bubbly inside my chest. I’ve become a bottle of champagne. “But you are getting older soon. I did some research on you, after the interview for the company newsletter. Isn’t your birthday next week?”

“You,” he says, “have too good of a memory.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yeah.”

“What are the big birthday plans? Private plane for your hedge fund friends? Hookers and cocaine? Strippers?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Good morning, Miss Stereotype.”

That makes me laugh. “Sorry.”

“I’ll be working, mostly. Might have dinner with my mother in the evening.” He pauses, like he’s considering something. His voice is measured when he speaks again. “Actually, I’m having some friends over this weekend. There won’t be any hookers or cocaine, I’m afraid, but you’re welcome to come if you’d like.”

My butter knife pauses over the bagel. “To meet your friends?”

His smile turns crooked. “If you want to, yes.”

I nod slowly. “I do. Actually, it would be… I don’t know. But I would, yeah. Except I’m going back to Alrich this weekend.”

“Oh,” he says. “No worries.”

“It’s for my dad’s retirement party. It was booked a long time ago. But I can—”

“Absolutely not,” Carter says. “You’re going.”

“But I’ll miss the strippers emerging from cakes.”

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