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A little unprofessional maybe, but not that hot.
Okay, maybe a tiny bit.
“Hmm. So, is he hot?”
I staggered to my feet and rescued my cup for one more refill. “If you think a repressed suited-up dude in need of a surgical scale removal of the stick up his ass is cute, sure.”
“Hmm.”
“Stop with the hmm. There is no hmm.”
“Is he tall, dark, and yummy?”
“He’s tall.”
“Well, that’s already giving him some points. Can you stare him in the eye or do you have to look up?”
I gnawed on the corner of my bottom lip. “Look up.”
“With heels?”
“Yes, with heels.”
“What did you wear?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I want to know if you went all witchy tarot girl on him or played nice.”
Curling up on the couch, I pulled a pillow onto my lap and rested my chin on top. “I started off very professional. He would have had absolu
tely no idea I was wearing my chakra chains down my back if it hadn’t been for that stupid bike chick and the donuts.”
“Okay, back it up. Donuts?”
“Yes. I was running late—”
“Shocker.”
“Shut up. Do you want to hear this or not?”
“I’m sorry. Go on.”
“I went to The Honey Pot.”
“Oh, you really must have been late. Or you were trying to impress him…”
“Can I continue?”
Luna cleared her throat, which suspiciously sounded like a laugh. “Oh, yes, please.”
I hugged the pillow tighter as I slumped on the couch. “You know those movies where you see the girl flipping a box of pastries in the air, and everything goes splat?”
Luna snorted. “Only on Hallmark movies.”
“Yeah, well, reality is much squishier and messier. Though there was a hot guy to help me up.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
