Three Simple Rules (Blindfold Club 1)

I pulled air into my lungs, unsure how to proceed. “I understand, but I’m not interested in casual sex.”

“Did that feel casual to you?”

There was that sparkling Logan personality I was familiar with. “You know what I mean.”

“So, this is, what? An ultimatum?” His voice was harsh. “I’d advise against it. I don’t react well to them.”

This conversation was on a downward spiral. “It’s not an ultimatum. All I’m telling you is I can’t sleep with a guy who’s sleeping with other people.”

His mouth dropped open, and snapped shut a half second later. “I understand. I won’t do that.”

I blinked my skeptical eyes at him.

“What you’re asking for is not unreasonable,” he said. He fell silent for a long moment, as if considering something. “I’m not interested in a relationship, but I am interested in you. I can be exclusive to that.”

Was he trying to turn my brain into spaghetti? What did that mean? “You’ll be . . . ? I don’t get it.”

“You won’t have to share me, and I don’t have to share you.”

God, he really didn’t want to put a label on it.

“We need to discuss how it’s going to work. It could be difficult at the office, and then there’s the issue of your promotion.”

“Why’s that an issue? I’ve been there long enough, half the people already think I’m a senior designer.”

There was a flash of something in his eyes, and then it was gone. “Yes, that’s true. But we still have the problem of critiques. Are you going to take it personally if I say something negative about your artwork?”

I had to be smiling. “Um, no, boss. I’ll handle it like I always do. I’m plenty used to it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Come on, I’ve endured your morale-boosting critique sessions for a year now. I’ve got a thick skin.” Our server presented our food to us, and I nodded a ‘thank you.’ “You don’t have to worry about sending me home in tears.”

“I’ve never done that,” he scoffed.

He didn’t know? “Not me, but remember that first proof on the cupcake ad Jamie did last month?”

He made a noise of disgust. “I’d prefer not to.”

I gave him an expectant look, waiting for him to get it.

“I made her cry?”

It came out before I could stop it. “You can kind of be a dick.”

He pulled his shoulders back, like I’d shocked him. Yet, he was too arrogant or stubborn to hear it. “No, I’m not, I’m honest.”

“Yeah, brutally honest. It’s one thing to say someone’s hard work isn’t their best. Maybe not even good. It’s another to say it looks like total shit.”

“I’m not going to sugar coat it. That cupcake ad made me want to stop eating food altogether.” He jammed his fork into his dinner. “You think what I say is bad? You should hear the feedback I get from some of our customers. And you know what it’s like, everyone with a license for Photoshop thinks they’re a designer.”

I’m sure it was true, that he’d heard much worse things. “Yeah, I know, but you can get your point across without so much edge. We think you get off on it.”

“We?”

I wasn’t sure how much I should tell him, but if it would make a difference, I had to try. “I’m not the only designer who thinks that.”

His shoulders rose and fell and there was defensiveness in his eyes. “Who else?”