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“You look like you’ve had a long day.”

“Week,” I correct. “I’ve had a long week.”

He laughs and wraps a hand around the side of my back to walk me toward the bar. I don’t fight him at all.

Kevin leans over the bar top, grabs a bottle of beer from the cooler and hands it to me as the busy bartender works on the other end.

I know it’s not exactly the way you’re supposed to get a drink, but I promise I’ll pay for it. I’ll even tip the nonexistent labor, just so the bartender doesn’t end up short. But not waiting for her to make her way down to me seems like the best idea in the world right now.

“It really is beneficial that you’re so tall, Kev,” I say with a laugh, popping the cap off the bottle on the edge of the bar and taking a pull.

We’re waiting for Julie to arrive with her friend, coming to what she thinks is a simple dinner with the girls from work.

But really, she’s going to get the engagement surprise she should have gotten from her family.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, grabbing his own bottle, taking a swig, and staring at the door so hard, I’m half expecting it to open from his powers.

“She’s gonna love it, Kev. You put in the effort, you know? You treat Julie like she’s special in your actions and your words, and that’s all we women are really looking for.”

“Is that all?” he says with a laugh. “For some reason, the equation seems a whole lot more complicated than that.”

I laugh and shove him in the shoulder. “Julie doesn’t give you a hard time, does she? I thought you guys were, like, the perfect couple.”

“There’s no such thing as the perfect couple, Gem.” My eyebrows draw together, and his shoot up. “Wow. You really think that exists? Damn, maybe that’s why you’re still single.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having high standards,” I grumble.

“You’re right,” he says, pointing the mouth of his bottle toward me. “There is, however, a problem with having impossible ones.”

I scowl. I’m not that hard to please.

Am I?

Sure, I didn’t like the way my last boyfriend lacked ambition, and I don’t love the idea of spending all of my Sundays waving my arms, trying to get some guy’s attention in front of a TV, but I’m realistic.

I don’t need a six-pack and an IQ over 130. Just someone with decent morals and the ability to hold a conversation.

Kevin reaches up and shoves my forehead softly. “Uh oh. I might have broken you.”

I stick out my tongue and shake my head as a couple of Kevin’s other friends from his basketball days come up to him and start talking.

I’m not really in the mood to socialize with one million people I don’t know, but I am excited to see Julie’s face when she comes through the door.

I scoot away and settle on a stool over at the side of the bar and turn myself to the door.

I watch as a couple comes inside, giggling with each other, their arms locked together. I roll my eyes. They’ll probably break up in a month and a half, and all their friends will wonder why because they seemed so happy in public.

Wow. That was cynical.

Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me?

My phone buzzes in my small, cross-strap style purse, and I scan the front door again just to make sure Julie’s not arriving before taking it out.

There’s a text message from a newly inputted number. One I just typed in earlier today, in fact.

Cap: I just wanted to reach out to you to tell you I’m sorry. I know the women calling and faxing at the office got out of hand, and it’s my fault I didn’t put a stop to it sooner. I didn’t fully understand the extent of it, but you don’t deserve to deal with it every day. You’re a smart, respectable woman, and I’m going to make sure I start treating you that way.

I draw my eyebrows together at the unexpected apology. I like that he’s owning up to his part in it, but the fact that he thinks making changes at this point fixes everything is extremely shortsighted.

Me: Thanks. I think. But it seems a little extreme for you to make all of these changes for me after a week, when your regular assistant has been dealing with it for months.

I glance at the door again after hitting send and then chew on my bottom lip while I wait for him to respond. The bubbles are moving, and the anticipation is almost ridiculous.

Cap: I didn’t know she was dealing with it.

I snort. Puh-lease.

Me: Oh, come on. You had to know.

Cap: I didn’t.

Me: Okay, fine. Tell yourself that. But you’ve known that women approach you inappropriately for a long time. Just look at that Tess woman on the street the other day! She didn’t even act like I existed.

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