“Yes, I appreciate that.” My eyes flit to Addie.
She mouths what the fuck?
“You don’t want to go?” I ask.
“I had to beg you to go to the beach last weekend.”
“I’m converted.”
She laughs yeah, okay. “Do we have a plus-one?”
“Ms. Miller, I believe that information is on your invitation. But I assure you, if you don’t have a plus-one, I’ll find a way.” He winks at her again.
Is he flirting? Or just friendly?
It’s weird. But I guess it’s not a concern. She’s not interested in men. Or anyone besides Marisol.
“Ms. Miller.” He turns to me. “Whenever you’re ready, we can leave.”
“Leave?” I ask.
“A shopping expedition.” He holds up another envelope. The kind that holds a credit card. “Mr. Hunt wants to make sure you’re comfortable in your attire for dinner.”
“Oh.”
“He does have one request,” he says.
“What is it?”
“That you wear your combat boots.”
My cheeks flush.
“At dinner. And after,” he says.
“After?” Realization spreads over Addie’s face. “Oh. After.”
My blush spreads to my chest.
“Oh my God. Are you actually getting laid? Evie, that’s great.”
“Sex is important,” Lock says.
Oh my God, kill me now.
“Excuse me.” I slink to the bathroom. Pee. Wash my hands. Wash my face. Brush my teeth.
Die of embarrassment.
The perfectly mixed chai—plenty of cinnamon and cardamom and almond milk—eases some of my awkwardness.
I’m still beet red. (The curse of paleness. A curse Addie did not inherit. She’s a little darker than I am. With lighter hair and bluer eyes. She’d make a perfect California girl if she wanted to change coasts).
I just care less about the embarrassing situation with a chai latte in my hands.
Mmm.
How does Ian read my mind? Does he hack into my emails? Or is it just some power he has?
No, I told him I love chai last night. It’s normal he knows. And I did mention something about almond milk. Maybe.
It’s all a blur of city lights and anticipation.
His strong hands on my skin.
His soft lips on my—
“Are you thinking about sex right now?” Addie leans forward. “You’re already obsessed.”
“You’re obsessed. You and Marisol were so loud. It was ridiculous.” I hide behind my takeout cup.
Addie blushes. It’s enough to change the subject.
For a few beautiful minutes she asks Lock about how he came to work for Ian’s company.
Apparently, he worked for Ian in London. When Ian moved, he did. Though, now he primarily works for Ian’s friend, Shepard. Or Shep, as he calls him.
He considers himself a bit of a cupid. Just look how happy Shep and his wife are. He assures me I’ll see the results of his handiwork at dinner.
If I can take my eyes off Ian.
“Mr. Hunt is smitten.” His voice beams with pride. “He’s never asked to borrow me for help with a woman before.”
“Are there a lot of women?” Addie asks.
“Men have needs. Some men aren’t… discrete about filling them.” Lock raises a brow. Doesn’t that answer everything?
Uh, no, not at all. I need a lesson in British conversation.
Did he just tell her to fuck off? Or was that his way of saying Ian is a slut, but it’s no big deal?
“Women have needs too,” she says.
“Of course. They’re usually more discrete though. I have to say… So many men have spilled details of our affairs. But never women,” Lock says.
“Never?” Addie does not comment on his casual yeah, I sleep with men and women, what’s it to you drop. But she does look impressed. Since she officially came out, she’s struggled with when to bring up her sexuality.
It’s not a secret. But it’s not like she wants to go hey, I’m Addie, I’m gay, what’s up with you either.
She’s a lot of things. Gay is one of them. An important one. But only one.
“Mr. Hunt… I probably shouldn’t say this.” Lock’s voice drops to a stage whisper. “But his divorce… his wife was seeing another man. For a long time. It became gossip amongst their circle. And it destroyed him. He overreacted to the hurt. Built all these walls around his heart.” His eyes fix on me. “I never thought he’d offer a key to anyone. Until you.”
“I barely know him,” I say.
“Even so… I have a feeling about you two.” He motions to the enormous gift. “Shall I place this in your room?”
“No. I will. Thanks.” I finish my tea. Pick up the box. Move it into my room.
The sleek teal ribbon looks perfect against my sheets.
And the black box.
It’s like he turned me into wrapping.
I peel off the top. Pull out the teal tissue paper. Let it flutter to the ground.
Silk lingerie on blue-green paper.
Soft black with tiny teal bows. Sweet, innocent, and illicit all at once.
Plus a note from Ian.
Buy whatever you’d like for the next few weeks. And the party. We’ll be at a beach house all weekend, though I don’t expect you’ll need much in the way of attire.