“Yes?” she whispers.
“I think we’re even now. Every dumb thing I did before, forgotten. Understood?” I ask.
Her brunette hair bounces as she nods.
“Tomorrow’s a new day. We’ll carry on normally, just like when you thought I was a college boy but without all the weirdness, okay?”
Yeah, no. There’s no fucking way I’ll ever see her as a college boy again.
“No weirdness. I can do that,” I lie.
I linger in the open door, staring at her fresh, innocent face for too long.
She can’t believe for a second I’ll ever see her as anything besides the beautiful woman she is.
“Good night, Miss Halle.” I shut the door and turn so I have a good reason to stop gawking.
Ten minutes later, after I’m inside, I need a reason to text her.
Pick me up an hour early tomorrow, please. I have some crap to take care of after being out of the office today. Let’s make it seven o’clock sharp.
Fuck me. I’ve lost my mind.
I go to the office before my usual nine a.m. start time by choice? Since when? I’m the anti-morning lark. Ward even used to literally drag me out of bed at the ass crack of dawn on Christmas Day when we were kids to open presents.
She texts back immediately. Whatever you say, bossman.
I’m glad I don’t need to hide my smile as I reply with, If I had my very own exclusive assistant, I wouldn’t have to head into the office at ungodly dark hours.
Reese: So hire one. You’re a billionaire.
Nick: I’m efficient. Why hire when I can promote internally?
Reese: I’m at my sister’s singing with a toddler. See you tomorrow. Bye, Nick.
There she goes again. Slipping up and calling me by my first name.
This time, I don’t dare correct her.
5
Charming Mirage (Reese)
Months Later
I’m parked in the Brandt Ideas parking garage, listening to an audiobook.
Business Finance 101 by some guy who could give Dr. Boring-Bowling a nice run for dullest lecture ever.
It’s boring as hell, but at least it gives me an idea of where to start with my future business plans...whenever I can keep my eyes open.
My phone buzzes in my lap. Hey, can you pick me up early today?
It’s Nick.
Of course it is.
I can’t think of any reason he’d need a ride at four p.m. when he’s usually hunkered down at the office until past six, but in the months we’ve worked together since clearing up our rocky start, he’s actually been professional.
After that conference, he lived up to his word.
The awkward gifts stopped.
So did the outrageous hot takes from his life.
Judging by how disappointed Abby sounds every time he comes up, he’s even kept a lower profile with the tabloid hounds. I giggle, imagining how much that must suck for The Chicago Tea’s ad revenue.
He’s been friendly, approachable, talkative, but not too talkative.
Now, he lets me get a word in—a lot of words, really.
We have a good working relationship. Yes, he sometimes requests more rides than he probably needs to hop across Chicagoland, but it’s never more than friendly. And as impossible as it seems...he’s kinda turned into my favorite passenger, tied with Beatrice, or Granny Bea as I’ve taken to calling her.
Also, the passenger with the nicest ass, but I keep that to myself. I let him know I’ll be there.
My phone buzzes and I look down at his latest message.
Okay. Thanks. I have a business engagement tonight. I may need help this evening.
Oh, boy.
As long as it doesn’t involve shirtless drunk guys, I send back.
Nick: Scout’s honor.
Reese: I’m not stupid enough to believe you were ever a Boy Scout.
I look at the time on my phone. It’s a quarter till four. I’ll finish this chapter, then pull around and pick him up.
When he gets in the car, he asks, “What are you doing tonight?”
“Apparently driving you around.”
“After that?” he clips, wearing his grumpy face.
He’s a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde, and it looks like Mr. Hyde’s winning out today. Grouchy, no nonsense, and scary-hot.
Where is this going? He hasn’t asked me to dinner or bought me gifts in months. In fact, it’s been so professional, so calm, I thought I’d finally been relegated to worker bee zone, one more boring piece of his daily background. “Umm—maybe to see my sister. Where are we going?”
“My place is our first stop,” he says, his voice iced over.
First stop. Huh.
So, apparently that means there’ll be more than one.
It also means plenty of time for this to get awkward.
Lovely.
I pull into the street.
“I’ve had a big media event on my calendar for months. It’s for charity,” he says, clearing his throat. “Everything’s lined up perfectly, except...”
He trails off.
If he’s had a fundraiser on his calendar for months, why didn’t he mention needing a ride until now? My eyes flick back, eagerly waiting for more.
“Except my date called in sick this morning,” he finishes.