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“So, nobody?” Monica guesses after my hesitation.
I take a deep breath, shaking my head. “You know me. The time and effort that goes into dating? All for the risk of just breaking your heart?” I scoff. “Is it even worth it?”
She purses her lips. “It’s obviously worth it, Lilly.”
I grimace. I suppose she’s right. I mean, everyone dates. And it’s not like I’ve never dated. I have. I’ve just never really had a relationship that turned into anything. A relationship that lasted. I guess I’m just too scared. Too scared of getting my heart broken, of falling in love and being torn to pieces. It’s also why I’ve never …
Well. That doesn’t matter.
Sensing that the subject is somewhat sore, Monica quickly moves on, suggesting a coffee shop in Capitol Hill that we should try out before the flea market on Saturday. I nod along, looking forward to the weekend but still somewhat caught up in thoughts of dating and, surprisingly, Aiden.
If ever there was a man I’d want to date, he’d be the one. Perfectly sculpted jaw, a stupidly handsome smile. Too bad it’s too risky. Too bad I’m still too scared. And too bad I’m … well, never mind. Too bad, is all.
Chapter 7
Aiden
This glorified storage room masquerading as an excuse for an office is really starting to get on my nerves. I can barely move around without tripping over some box full of paints or a pile of canvasses. Too bad Lilly and I can’t just share an office. I grin at the thought. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? I could tease her all day and watch her face grow red when I’d say something especially flirty.
I think back to our night at the bar and how hot and bothered she’d seemed. Just thinking about it forces a smile across my face. She’d given me the cold shoulder the rest of the week, regardless of my attempts to engage her in conversation. She’d simply flit away after a one-word answer or avoid me entirely.
I’d spent the weekend trying to get her out of my head, trying not to think about the sway of her hips as she walks or the curve of her breasts in those tight blouses she wears. Fuck, I’m a goner. I’m infatuated. I’m obsessed. I can’t stop thinking about her. And from experience, I know there’s only one way to get her out of my mind—to get her underneath me.
A buzz from my phone catches my attention. Looking down, I see a text from Asher.
Asher: Unsurprisingly, I see you never RSVP’d for the wedding.
I snort. Shit. Asher and Olivia’s wedding. I knew it was this month, but I can’t quite remember when. Pulling up my calendar, I’m shocked to see it’s barely five days away—it’s this weekend. Worst brother in the world award right here. I shake my head.
Aiden: Yeah, sorry. Oops. Obviously I’m coming, though. Think you could have deduced that.
Asher responds right away.
Asher: You have a plus one?
I stare down at the screen. Hadn’t really thought of that. I’d kind of hoped maybe there’d be a cute bridesmaid of Olivia’s to hook up with. But then another thought occurs to me.
Aiden: Maybe I’ll bring the program manager.
A few minutes go by, and Asher doesn’t respond. He probably thinks I’m kidding. Which, honestly, I kind of was, but on second thought … would she go for it? Weddings are a romantic affair, the perfect setting for a hookup. I might just get lucky. I text Asher again.
Aiden: You didn’t warn me about how hot she is. All I can think about is getting in her pants.
That gets a response.
Asher: Jesus Christ, Aiden.
I chuckle, setting my phone down and getting back to work. A half hour ticks by. I’m still slogging my way through last year’s expense reports on the foundation. It seems like we shelled out quite a bit of money early on, but the costs have leveled out as time goes on. Hopefully that’s a pattern that continues into this year as well.
I take another break to rest my eyes from the computer glare and glance around my office again. I shake my head. If I’m going to be here for a little while—which, guessing by the amount of time it’s taking me to go through all these files, might be some time—I need a more appealing office space. Call me entitled, but I enjoy an aesthetically pleasing environment.
I stand from my desk, saunter across my office, across the hall, and open Lilly’s office door.
She looks up, surprised. She raises her eyebrows.
“Lilly,” I say with a smile.
“Mr. King,” she says slowly.
