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I took her hand, but I didn't shake it. I held it, stroking her skin before I cupped it between both of my own. "I think you met a part of me on New Year's Eve." I winced. "And at the wedding." I swallowed the growing knot that was lodged in my throat. "And, uh, at the reception."
She held my gaze steady. "And who am I with now?"
"Not to toot my own horn, but I'm kind of a catch," I winked.
She snatched her hand away, smiling despite her efforts at pretending she was so over me. "And clearly very humble."
"Clearly," I grinned, then put aside the jokes that were meant to guard me. Keep me closed off. Protected. Because if I kept people laughing, they wouldn't notice that underneath it all, I wasn't nearly as confident as I seemed. "You're with a man that's kicking himself because he treated you like you were forgettable when you are anything but, Natalee."
Her lips parted, her eyebrows lifting in genuine shock. She didn't say anything. The sound of my employees devouring cupcakes like they were worried she'd wheel it out at any moment barely registered. There was just a low thumping sound that magnified with every second that passed and the silence built to a dizzying thing that made sweat bead at my temple. The confidence I wore like armor suddenly felt about as sturdy as a plastic poncho. The silence left me to fill in the blanks.
Does that line work for you often, Mr. Cox?
That's sweet, but I'm so not interested.
Go to hell.
She blinked, dropping her eyes to the floor, then slowly raised her chin...and her arm. That hand was back out, ready to start over.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cox."
CHAPTER SEVEN: NATALEE
My better judgment was officially on vacation.
A part of me wanted to believe it began the moment I didn’t strangle Tamara when she informed me that she’d made an executive decision. If that wasn’t worrying enough since the last time she’d done such a thing we’d ended up dressing up like Disney characters to deliver a cake to the brattiest six year old I’d ever met, she outdid herself and said a name that I’d been whispering in my head since the reception: Jason Cox.
She’d accepted Cox Technologies’ online order for a batch of our baked good assortment for their quarterly meeting. I’d just stared at her when she confessed, speechless, and she’d filled the silence by giving me all the reasons it was a great idea.
Just think about the publicity! The word of mouth advertising once the tech peeps take a bite of your mouthwatering, tantalizing-
I’d cut her off, holding up a hand to end her attempts at kissing my ass.
And now you have a completely chill and low stress reason to talk to him!
It should have made me chunk a bag of flour at her head but instead, I just clenched my teeth and asked her to give me the details.
That morning, I’d spent an unusual amount of time getting ready for the delivery. Usually, it consisted of pulling my hair into a bun and pairing my t-shirt with a blazer, dark jeans, and my comfy Keds. For the Cox delivery, I took the time to straighten my hair, dug out my Madison Creations polo, found my black stiletto pants that were a size too small and forced me to do the thong thing (I was nothing if not professional, so commando was definitely not happening), I even wore my Mary Jane wedges and upgraded from lip balm to tinted lip gloss, and even added a swipe of blush and some mascara.
I’d anticipated my friend wasn’t done meddling, and she didn’t disappoint, Face-timing me the morning of the delivery, looking healthy despite the tissue she kept dabbing her nose with, claiming she was too sick to the delivery, but I could handle it, right?
And I had. I strutted into the building that was more like an Apple store than an office, emboldened by the fact that his employees didn’t even wait for me to come to a full stop before they pounced. And Jason? Ever the cool, smooth operator, that had more lines than a professional pick up artist and a body that made most women melt into a puddle? He was speechless when I took the wheel and offered him a do-over that he definitely didn’t deserve.
I’d expected jokes, deflection; for him to leap at the opportunity to walk right past his numerous screw ups. He’d apologized and said my name again like my name had been on an endless loop in his head, too.
And then I went a little crazy and agreed to go out to dinner with him, further breaking my rule. Dating the jerk who made me come up with my no dating, friends with benefits only thing in the first place.
I knew better. I’d done the same research that Tamara had. Jason Cox was a player, with a capital P, but there was something in his eyes. That same spark I’d seen the night we met that made me wonder if he was worth the risk.
I pulled up the camera app on my phone and fussed with my braid, giving myself a weary grin that I barely held for a second before I flipped back to my Uber app. 5 minutes away. More than enough time to snap myself out of this momentary insanity. I didn’t even know how to do this dating thing. The last time I’d even been on anything that resembled a date was with Scott, and I remembered all too well how that turned out.
I almost texted Tamara, but decided against it because she’d just tell me to get over it and that worst case scenario, I’d get a free meal out of the deal.
That wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, though.
We were already there.
I was so excited about seeing him that I could hardly stand it.
