Sweet Thing (Naughty Things 2)

“No one,” I say.

“No one?” my father asks. We’re sitting in the Corinthian Hotel this afternoon. He’s meeting clients after our early dinner, so we just came here. “Didn’t look like no one. Did you meet a nice boy at school?” He smiles at me.

“Ugggh, Dad. I’m not talking about boys with you!”

“So there is a boy?” he says.

“No!” I say. “There’s no boy, I swear.”

It’s not even a lie because Ryker North is a man. He hasn’t been a boy for a very long time.

“Well, when there is, I need to meet him.”

“You will,” I say. “Don’t worry, Dad. I would never date anyone you didn’t approve of first.”

“Did you enjoy your meal?” he asks a little while later. “I’ve never heard of truffle grilled cheese. Interesting. But you usually like the club.”

Yup. I went there. Because I felt like a total ass after that whole meltdown I had with Ryker over this sandwich and you know what? He was right. It’s not for kids. I don’t even like it. “It’s OK,” I say, then wrinkle my nose. “Should’ve gotten the club.”

“We have time. Would you like to order something else?”

“Umm… yeah,” I say. “I would. April didn’t exactly stock the fridge before she left and I haven’t had a chance to go shopping.”

My father flags down a waiter and orders me a club, then looks at his watch. “I’m going to go check the lobby, sweetheart. See if the clients are here yet. Be right back.”

“Sure, Dad,” I say.

He walks off and I take a moment to check my voicemail.

“Hey, Aria. Hope you’re well. Just wanted to let you know my tests came back clean. So no worries, OK? And I’ll be at the co-op tonight. My regular time. So if you want to see them… you know what to do.”

I know what to do.

Actually, I don’t know what to do. I have no clue what to do. I thought it would be pretty easy to forget about Ryker North. He’s way too old for me. And he’s bossy. And that whole thing in the restaurant—this restaurant—it was weird. Hot and all that. But weird. I can’t seem to make up my mind. Did I like it? Did I hate it? Was it embarrassing? Was it fun?

It was all those things and that’s so confusing.

He’s confusing. Hell, I’m confusing.

But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still interested in him. I know he’s been at the co-op because I’ve walked by there every night and I could hear him playing. I want to go inside and say something. Apologize for overreacting.

But did I overreact?

I’m not sure.

But he’ll be there tonight and he gave me a reason to stop by, right? Which maybe means he wants to see me too.

Should I go over there? Or should I ignore this message? He said his test results came back clean and I believe him. I wasn’t really that worried about sex diseases anyway. He’s a grown-up. He knows how to avoid that kind of situation. I’d be more worried about a boy my own age because they’re stupid, and impulsive, and safe sex isn’t exactly the most pressing matter when the mood hits.

“Aria,” my father says, suddenly at the table again. “I’d like you to meet my clients, Oswald Herrington III”—he pans his hand to one man—“and Ryker North. They’re developers who…”

But I don’t hear the rest. Because Ryker North is standing next to my dad—in the same restaurant where he fingered me last week—and my dad is patting him on the back and smiling like they are old friends.

Oh, my God. Are they old friends?

I just sit there, my mouth open, and stare at them like an idiot as they all unbutton their suit coats and settle into their chairs.

“Um…” I say. “I was just leaving.” And as soon as I say that the waiter comes, deposits my club sandwich in front of me, and removes the mostly uneaten truffle grilled cheese.

“There you go, sweetie,” he says. “And no charge for this one,” indicating the plate in his hand.

“Oh, Aria,” my father says. “I forgot you ordered another plate.”

“She can stay,” the Oswald guy says. “Go ahead,” he says, looking at me. “Finish your meal. But I have to warn you, we’re pretty boring.”

He smiles at me, then my father, and my father must like this idea, because he smiles back and says, “Sure, Aria. Finish your dinner.”

Finish my dinner. God, if I didn’t feel like a child last week, I definitely do now.

I look down at my plate and start nibbling the end of a French fry.

I glance up at Ryker and find him staring at me as my father starts talking about business. But he puts up a hand, smiles, and says, “I’m sorry. Was that the world-famous truffle grilled cheese you just sent back?”