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But I would be lying if I said I felt nothing for him. Our kiss had made me feel more than anything else in recent memory, and I had the unsettling feeling that if I walked away, the what-ifs would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I hope I don’t regret this.
“Two months, effective immediately.” Just saying the words made my chest tighten, but I pushed back the worst-case scenarios threatening to surface. “We have until the end of December to determine whether this can go anywhere.”
“Like a trial period.”
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “Do you have an issue with that?”
“Not at all.” Xavier’s grin deepened as he held out his hand. “We have a deal.”
It was my last chance to back out, but fuck it, I hadn’t come this far to chicken out now.
I slid my hand into his and tried to ignore the swoop of butterflies in my stomach. “We have a deal.”
CHAPTER21
Sloane
“Iwon’t say I told you so, but I told you so,” Isabella said. “Iknewyou and Xavier would eventually give in to your sizzling, delicious—”
“Please stop. I’m in a cab, and I’m going to hurl.”
“I hope not, considering you’re on your way to a first date.” I could hear her grin over the phone. “Have fun. Fill us in oneverythinglater, and don’t worry about the Perry thing. We got you.”
I hadn’t forgotten about Perry Wilson’s attempt to throw me under the bus. Since I was back in the city, I could focus on taking him down with some help from my friends.
“Thank you.” The cab rolled to a stop. “I’m here. Talk to you later.”
“Ooh. Send us a picture of—”
I hung up before Isabella said anything else inappropriate. I paid the driver and climbed the steps to Xavier’s West Village town house, the nerves in my stomach sprouting teeth and fangs.
It was Saturday, two days after my questionable decision to say yes tocasuallydating him (emphasis on thecasual). Xavier didn’t tell me what he had planned, only that I should wear “cozy clothing,” and if it were anyone else, I would’ve balked the second he told me our first date was at his house. That was how charming serial killers lured their victims to their deaths.
My showing up anyway was either a testament to how comfortable I felt with him or how stupid I was. Honestly, I preferred the latter explanation over the former.
I lifted my hand, but the door opened before I could knock.
Xavier’s tousled black hair and lean, sculpted body filled the frame, and I was beset by the strange sensation of my heart sputtering. He wore his version of cozy: jeans and a fine cashmere sweater that outlined his broad shoulders and arms. No shoes.
For some reason, seeing him barefoot at home felt unbearably intimate.
I dropped my arm with a twinge of self-consciousness. “Hi.” “Hi.” His smile displayed a flash of his dimples. “Before you think I’m a creep who was waiting at the window, I came out to get this.” He picked up a small brown box from the front stoop. “You just happen to have perfect timing.”
“That’s not a knife you bought to murder me in your secret basement, is it?”
The dimples deepened. “I guess you’ll find out.” “Funny.”
I hung my coat on the brass tree by the door and followed him deeper into the town house. I’d visited once before to drop off some papers but never made it past the living room.
Xavier gave me a quick tour and explanation of each room we passed.
Contrary to what I’d expected, his house didn’t resemble a college fraternity’s. It was surprisingly cozy despite its vast layout, and the coastal decor was a refreshing mix of soft whites, moody blues, and dusty yellows. He either had an excellent eye, an excellent interior designer, or both.
“This is where I spend most of my time.” He gestured at the second-floor den, which was part TV room, part library, and part home arcade. “It’s the jack-of-all-trades in the house.”
“Is that a claw machine?” I walked closer to the metal container filled with stuffed toys. It occupied the far-right wall between a vintage pinball machine and a retro popcorn cart.
