Reckless (Irresistible 6)

I laughed as I dried my hair, because I found it funny and weirdly charming that when it came to Gizzy’s, Adam was a forgiving man.

Anyone at the office would get barked at if they forget anything he asked for. “I don’t care about excuses, just do it” would be the line he hit them with. But Adam was a different person at Gizzy’s, and I always thanked God for that place’s existence, because I was pretty sure it was the only thing that made him tolerable by the time he came into the office in the morning.

“Hey, you. Cute dress,” Liza remarked when I got into work.

I smiled, giving a “thank you” as I passed The Pit to get to my desk.

The office was a third full on a Saturday with everyone in more casual attire, including me. I had on a light grey, almost white tie-waist dress—another piece from Georgia’s closet that I was borrowing till I could get my real wardrobe back tonight. After a full week of living off borrowed clothing, I was finally going to get my things from my old house today after work, having confirmed with a mutual friend, Seth, that Caspar would be out.

I was in the middle of confirming the whole thing with Seth when I heard Liza’s chipper voice down the hall.

“Good morning, Adam!” she said brightly.

It served as a good warning for me, giving me ample time to steel myself before looking up and laying eyes on Adam.

Dammit, I cursed to myself wryly, because I’d half-hoped to find my level of attraction at least somewhat lowered, but nope.

Not when his tan looked especially good today against that crisp white shirt that he wore with the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up. Oof. One-two punch, but it’s okay. You got this, I thought, giving myself a little pep talk as my eyes raked through his hair.

It was still a little wet from the shower at the gym and I could literally tell how good he smelled right now just from looking at him. But you may not take a whiff of your boss today, I told myself firmly. Or ever, I added as I watched him nod hello to the handful of others who were in today before looking up and locking those blue eyes on me.

He didn’t smile with his lips, but I could see one twinkling in his eyes as he held up the take-out bag and nodded into his office—my sign to follow him in and chow down. So popping up from my chair, I did exactly that.

Fake it till you make it, baby, I reminded myself as I got in, acknowledging Adam’s little once-over of my dress with only a smirk before I kicked us off with a typical Saturday question.

“So. How was your game?” I asked, happy to have something to do as I approached his desk and unpacked the food as usual.

“Pretty damned good.”

“That extra sparkle in your eye tells me you embarrassed Josh MacMillan more than usual today.”

Adam gave a short laugh

as he hit the space bar on his keyboard. “You know me well,” he said, a crooked smile touching the corner of his mouth.

It was a small smile. Not his usual grin from ear to ear. He was already looking at his computer too, which led me to conclude that he was a bit subdued today. More serious.

I knew this mood.

I’d seen it a good handful times in the past five years, and it usually meant something in his personal life was weighing on him. Most likely something to do with his family, since his mother provided no shortage of drama. But since “what Jeannie did this time” was a topic that was strictly dungeoned, I never asked about it. I generally just talked about whatever else there was to talk about until Adam cracked a real smile.

And thankfully, I was pretty good at that. All it took today was running through what few messages there were before asking Adam if Josh wore his personalized J-Mac jersey this morning with the matching and completely unnecessary arm sleeve.

There we go, I suppressed a triumphant grin when Adam answered with a yes and a laugh, and though he didn’t take his eyes off his screen, we talked for a few minutes, our usual chit-chat about nothing in particular.

At least until I made the critical mistake of licking whipped cream off my finger.

Mid-click, Adam cut his gaze to me—and with such laser swiftness I actually froze mid-lick, eyes wide and suppressing laughter till he shook his head, averting his eyes back to his screen. He gave another few clicks of his trackpad before he said, “If you’re going to eat in here, I’m going to need you to do it less attractively.”

His sternness made my eyebrows lift with both surprise and amusement. “Okay, let me just chew with my mouth wide open then.”

“That, I’d fire you for.”

I smirked. “Someone’s cranky today. It’s not my fault you don’t eat your French toast with strawberries and whipped cream the way you’re supposed to.”

“Fuck that. Blueberries was the tradition growing up.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always lived to rebel against your family’s traditions,” I snorted. “I mean isn’t that the reason you cheered for all LA teams growing up? And fled New Jersey the second you turned eighteen? Figured you would’ve been Team Strawberries just to piss everyone off.”