Page 84 of Business Casual
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and then clear it again. “Yeah, you know. Work stuff.”
I swipe open the message.
NOVA:You left your shirt at my place.
CHARLIE:Did I?
It must have been the button-down she ripped off me the second I was in her bedroom. I slipped my sweater over my T-shirt when I left her house this morning, too tired to go hunting for it in the dark of her room.
NOVA:You did.
A picture comes through half a second later. Nova standing in front of that damn mirror in the corner of her room, my shirt dwarfing her small frame, a strip of skin visible from the hollow of her throat down to the lace underwear she has on. The rose between her tits framed perfectly. I bite the inside of my cheek.
Caleb gives me a critical look. “You’re working too much.”
I tilt my phone closer to my chest just in case he gets curious. “Yeah,” I grunt. “Work.”
Another picture appears below that one. The shirt is slipping down one shoulder, the swell of her breast a tease. Half an inch more and I’d see everything.
I type out a quick response.
CHARLIE:It looks better on you than me.
NOVA:Even better on the floor.
Another picture. Nova with her arm banded over her bare breasts in the mirror, my shirt crumpled at her feet. One leg crossed in front of the other, bruises in the shape of fingerprints on the curve of her hip. A sly smile, teeth clamped down on her bottom lip.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Caleb looks concerned now. “You all right?”
I tuck my phone in my back pocket and try to calm the hell down. If Caleb thinks I’m getting hard over Layla’s croissants, he might dropkick me in the nuts. The promise of violence is enough to settle the blood rushing through my veins. I’m going to have the image of Nova in nothing but lace burned into my retinas for the rest of my life. When I’m lying on my deathbed, I’m going to request that exact picture projected on the ceiling above my head.
Maybe that’s the tattoo I should ask for.
“M’fine,” I mumble.
Caleb is dubious. “You don’t look fine.”
“I’m fine,” I say again, doing my best to firm my tone. “I’d be even better if you didn’t eat the cupcake I wanted.”
He ignores me. “I don’t understand how you’re working two jobs.”
I shrug and busy myself with a container filled with paper straws. I rearrange them until they’re all at the same height. “Is it considered work if it’s what you love?”
Caleb scoffs. “Do you love investment banking?”
No. In fact, I’m starting to think I hate it. But it’s too late for me to pick a different path. I’ve firmly built my life around my career and everything I’ve accomplished in New York. These trips I make to Inglewild and Lovelight are a chance for me to catch my breath. Happiness distributed in increments. I’m afraid if I get too greedy for something more, it’ll all go up in a cloud of smoke. Best to take what I can get.
“I love my paycheck.” I reach over the counter and pluck a honey glazed bear claw out from the display case. I shove half of it in my mouth. “I love money, Caleb.”
“See, I think that’s something you like to tell yourself so you don’t have to think too hard about it.” Caleb crosses his arms over his chest and rests his hip against the front counter. “Look at you. You’re not even wearing your watch.”
Heat curls around the base of my spine and tugs. I’m not wearing my watch because Nova managed to unravel me in the space of two minutes. She won that thing fair and square, and I loved every second of it.
Layla elbows her way out of the kitchen, a pink scarf twisted around her ponytail, little strawberries printed all over it. She’s holding a tray of mini pies that is bigger than she is. Caleb slips around the counter and grabs it before she can ask.
Layla gives him a grateful smile, wiping her hands on her apron. “Who is missing their watch?”
