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“I don’t think you understand.” I smooth my tux. “This wasn’t a request, but a stated fact.”
“Why, if it isn’t my favorite boss,” a sweet southern drawl greets me from behind.
“Boss?” Christian asks in surprise, peering behind my shoulder. “Arya’s not gonna lovethat.”
“You must have the wrong person, sweetheart.” Riggs flashes Winnifred a smile, clapping my shoulder. “This man right here can’t be anyone’s favorite anything. He’s about as lovable as a juicy, pus-filled zit.”
“Thanks for the image.” I shake his touch off, turning around to face her.
“Hey, Winnie.” The redhead air-kisses Winnifred.
“Hey, Tiff! Heard you killed it in that romcom pilot.” My employee gives her a warm hug. Her need to be cute and selfless grates on my nerves. She turns her attention back to me. “Didn’t know you were the philanthropic kind.”
“He isn’t.” Christian tucks a hand into his front pocket. “I dragged him here kicking and screaming.”
“Don’t forget the wailing,” I deadpan. “I was inconsolable.”
Despite being an annoying Goody Two-shoes, she doesn’t look horrid in her simple dress and ponytail. The realization is unwelcome and alarming. I don’t even like blondes. This must be Mother Nature’s way of telling me it is time to stick my dick somewhere wet and warm. It’s been almost a year, after all.
“Arsène?” Winnifred frowns. “Everything okay?”
I haven’t acknowledged her existence in the two minutes she’s been standing here.Oops.
I clasp the small of her back, brushing my lips against her cheek noncommittally. “Winnifred, would it be improper to tell you that you look beautiful?”
“No, which is why you wouldn’t do it.”
I laugh. The most surprising thing about this boring, one-dimensional, cookie-making blonde is that she possesses wit. Or something that resembles it, anyway.
She studies me intently, like a concerned parent. “Are you ... okay?”
“Never better.”
I’m waiting for her to leave. I’m drunk, tired, and not in the mood to milk information out of her.
“You sure you don’t want me to call you a taxi?” She frowns.
And she would. Little MissSunshine.
“Positive, but thank you.”
“Well ...” She lingers. “Enjoy your night.”
“I intend to.”
When she leaves, both Christian and Riggs look at me, openly aghast.
“I’ve never seen you like this.” Riggs’s smile is slow and taunting.
“Like what?”
“A teenager ushered into the ER with his ball sack stuck between his girlfriend’s metal braces,” Christian articulates poetically. “You looked flushed. Uncomfortable. Dare I say it?Embarrassed.”
“Mortified.” Riggs knocks back a drink. “He blushed. I saw him. Did you see him blush, Tiff?”
“Yes!” Tiff, grateful to be more than a decorative ornament at this point, joins my two friends eagerly. “His face is all red. That’s so sweet. Winnie’s a great gal.”
I’ve managed to get through an entire week without cornering Winnifred at Calypso Hall for more information. The rented Parisapartment was a big revelation. What else does she know? What else did shemiss?
