He hadn’t had to offer me anything. I would have said yes regardless. But he didn’t need to know that. “Free of charge?”
“Mmmm.” He swayed his head from side to side. “I heard something about your dad and an orange jumpsuit. The consultation is free, but I make no promises about the rest.”
My hand shot out so fast that I heard it whiz through the air. “Deal.”
Bowen’s grin as we shook on our arrangement was almost as wide as my own.
Bowen
Over the next two days, time moved impossibly slow. Remi and I had exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at a little sushi place near her office after her open house on Saturday afternoon. A day date wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was necessary for where I wanted to take her.
It was now Thursday, and I still hadn’t heard from her. For as much as Remi talked, I assumed some of that would translate into at least one text over the course of the week. Though it wasn’t like I’d texted her, either.
I’d picked up my phone several times. I’d even opened up a message addressed to her. I’d typed little, but I’d sent even less. I was so out of the game when it came to dating that I didn’t know where to start. Hi was the classic carefree-yet-obvious-I’m-interested-a-healthy-amount option. Though I feared my fingertips would follow it up with I can’t stop thinking about you, which would no doubt erase any cool-guy foothold I had. It was safer if I said nothing at all.
So that was what I did. Torturous as it might have been.
As I finished up for the day, I dreaded going home. It shouldn’t have worked like that. Home should have been my escape. But my nephews had soccer on Thursdays not far from my house, so Cassidy always stopped by to make sure I was still breathing. Today was no exception. She’d already sent me pictures of Sugar and Clyde sunbathing in their favorite spot in the backyard. They loved her, but personally, I could pass on the weekly interrogations, especially now that I had something—someone—to hide.
There was a knock on my office door and then Emily cracked it open. “Hey, Remi Grey just dropped off some paperwork for you. She said it was her father’s receipts, but it looks like a bag of trash and smells like French fries.”
It was comical how fast I lurched to my feet. “She’s here?”
“Well, she was. Don’t worry. No mop needed this time.”
I hurried past her to the waiting area. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Um…because you have specifically told me not to bother you when a client stops by unannounced.”
I let out a low growl and marched to the front door, hoping I could catch her. And say what? I had no idea, but I’d figure it out. I trusted my mouth slightly more than my fingertips.
I scanned the parking lot for any sign of her. The disappointment that she’d been so close was a sucker punch to the gut—until I caught sight of a white Honda Pilot parked in front of the tea shop across the street. There was no mistaking the succulent hanging in a crocheted net on the rearview mirror.
Earlier that week, I’d cursed that shop for over an hour as I’d crawled around on my hands and knees, chasing fruity pearls from under the chairs. As I stepped off the curb, a smile on my face, I was all too happy to eat my words.
She was standing at the counter when I quietly walked inside. Her long, blond hair cascaded down her back, and tight jeans hugged the curve of her ass.
“That will be nine sixty-two,” the barista told her.
In one fluid movement, I retrieved my wallet, slid my credit card out, and extended it over Remi’s shoulder. “I’ve got it.”
She spun around, a beautiful mixture of surprise and delight on her pretty face. “Hey,” she said.
The barista took my card.
Remi tried to stop her. “No, wait. Don’t run that. I owe you the drink, remember?”
Ignoring her, I jerked my chin for the barista to continue. “Actually, you bought me four drinks, and I think we can all agree it was more than enough.”
A soft laugh escaped through her perfect lips. “Fine. What about a cookie, then?”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I can’t eat anything from here. Peanuts.”
Her eyes flashed wide. “Oh my God, you’re allergic to nuts? I could have killed you with those cookies on Monday.” She patted my chest down like she was searching for an injury. “You didn’t eat any, right?”
I grinned—only partially because her hands were all over me. “Off the floor? Tempting as it might have been, no. But yes, I am allergic. They just give me hives, not send me into anaphylactic shock.”
She peered up at me, more serious than I’d ever seen her. “Do you carry an EpiPen just in case?”
