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Her golden curls are falling loosely on her shoulders, and her cerulean blue eyes are lit up in surprise.
A tall man stands next to her, in a dark blue suit and tie, his dark hair slicked back in what is an attempt to look polished. He is looking a little annoyed.
“Agatha. What are you doing here?” I stand up.
She blinks. “I had to meet a client here. This is George. George, this is my friend and occasional colleague, Ian Sawyer.”
I can feel the man sizing me up. He clearly finds me to be no threat because he shakes my hand, a confident smile on his face.
“Nice to meet you.”
I nod. “Same.” Then, rocking back on my heels, I ask, “Are you two done?”
The man opens his mouth. “Actually, we were just ab—”
“George and I are done, but I was thinking of lunch,” Agatha cuts in. “Why don’t you join me?”
I give the blustering George a slow smirk and tuck Agatha’s hand in my elbow, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, making sure that George has a proper view. “I was missing you.”
She beams at me, that gorgeous smile of hers knocking me off my feet. “You were?”
I tilt my head, grinning at her. “I always miss you.”
She laughs, and I know the second she dismissed George, and it pleases me how easy it is for me to get her attention.
She bids George a professional goodbye and then drags me out of the coffee shop.
“Woah, what’s your hurry?” I hiss when her nails dig into my arm a little harder than necessary.
“I’m using you as a shield,” Agatha mutters. “There are only so many lunch dates I can turn down.”
My expression grows thunderous, and my voice harsh, “Was he making you uncomfortable?”
Agatha glances up at me and scowls, “Put away that macho man thing. I don’t have time for that. I’m actually hungry. And I have another meeting in two hours, so feed me.”
“Where’s your wallet?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes at me. “And pass up this opportunity to let you buy me a meal? I don’t think so.”
I raise a brow. “If I recall correctly, you owe me a meal because I bought you pizza last time, after you got the Thai food.”
She makes a face. “Ugh. I was hoping you had forgotten that.”
I smile. “I don’t forget food debts. I’m in the mood for some lobster.” I hear her mutter ‘asshole’ under her breath, and I throw my arm over her shoulders as we walk down the street. “You can call me all the names you want, babe. There’s a lobster at Reine Hotel with my name on it.”
This feels good.
This feels right.
Two friends teasing each other.
Except that when I saw George, this feeling of possessiveness reared its head. It left me wanting to establish my dominance.
And that feeling troubles me.
As soon as we are tucked into our seats at one of the most expensive restaurants in the area, I ask, “How come you didn’t tell me you were coming to New York?”
Agatha is texting a client, her fingers moving furiously over the screen. She gives me a distracted look, “Why would I tell you that?”
