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“Thank you, Scott. I appreciate that.” As the words leave my mouth, my phone pings, garnering my attention. “I’ll be quick.”
When I unlock my home screen, I no longer need to pull up Rena’s text thread because Liam has kindly attached it below a note.
Liam: Since you have no doubt caught on to my antics, the thread is below. Just to refresh your memory and clarify a few things. Pay close attention to my notes.
My stomach flips as I open the copied thread, remembering how vulnerable and utterly cheesy I was—such a girl.
Me: I have a secret.
Rena: Yes, please.
Me: I feel terrible not sharing it with Ivy, but it’s too fresh. And too tangled. So, you have to swear.
(Tangled secrets are the best kind, Carver.)
Rena: I know nothing. That’s pretty much the Noire motto. You’re in good hands. And I’m salivating over this tangled secret. Spill, girl.
(Rena’s a good friend. I’ve always liked that girl.)
Me: I like someone I shouldn’t.
(Hmm. Who could it be? This gave me, honest to God, butterflies. Edge of my fucking seat, baby.)
I hate that he’s funny and that these notes are adorable. I cannot lose my infuriated momentum.
Rena: Forbidden. Always a plus. More, please.
(Forbidden is pretty sexy. Wise girl.)
Me: Not just forbidden. He’s kind of an ass. Sometimes. Only he isn’t anymore.
(I am an ass. And yet I’m not. Best kind of man in my opinion. It’s annoying how good you are at everything, even figuring me out. No one likes a show-off, Ace.)
Me: Unless he is, but I don’t want him to be. Skewed vision maybe.
(I’ll be whatever you need, baby girl.)
Rena: Possible. I’ve suffered similar fates. In the three and a half seconds of getting to know a guy without my brothers’ interference. So, to be fair, misconceptions are a given when you lightning-speed date. But what you’re describing is far too cryptic. Name names.
(She can really go on about stuff, can’t she? But then again, she uses it to squeeze information out of the most cunning and strategic people. Brilliant.)
I groan, knowing what’s coming. Scott’s eyes flit over to me with a grin before he returns to his email. I’m not sure he’d be grinning if he was aware of the nature of the dinner literature evoking my outburst.
Me: Liam.
(Aww. That’s it. Say my name, baby. I won’t be happy until your legs are shaking, your body’s trembling, and your voice is so hoarse from screaming that everyone in a ten-mile radius knows my name.)
Dammit. Why is that so unbelievably hot? I’m pissed. Pissed. Pissed. Pissed.
Rena: I knew it. He’s only got eyes for you.
(Truth.)
Me: You think?
(Absolutely. No question about it. Only you.)
Rena: Know it, girl. Men don’t look at just anyone the way he looks at you. Sex?
