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I frowned. Knowing she was already reading through them was one thing. Hearing it aloud was another. I kind of felt like a teenager caught sneaking out. My face must’ve said as much because Rose threw up her hands with a chuckle. “What? You can’t blame me. It’s been months since you’ve even gone on a real date. And now suddenly this beautiful woman comes bursting into your life, offering to clean up your act and give you the job of your lifetime… Of course I had to follow along.”
I groaned. “Rose, don’t you have a half dozen other things to do?”
A short, manicured nail jabbed the air in my direction. “Are you getting smart with me?”
I flinched before I could stop myself. Old habits died hard, I guessed.
“Absolutely not. Just trying to figure out exactly what to list on the help wanted listing when I talk to HR.”
“You wouldn’t dare. I’ve known you since you were a green bean toddler who tried to eat the printer ink.”
I cringed. She was dangerous. I should've known.
“Yes, dinner tomorrow. Just order the usual, and have it sent to my place.” I hadn’t actually decided any of this, but the expression she was giving me said I should’ve.
Her eyebrows rose at my choice in venue. “Is your place even finished?”
Great point. Not completely, but we could make it work. There’s nothing women loved more than eating amongst sawdust, right? I almost snorted out loud. “Most of it,” I lied smoothly.
“Well, thank God for small miracles. I’ll send over the cleaning crew tomorrow morning. You should cook for her. And break out those wines you keep hoarding away for absolutely no one.”
“Oh excuse me, Cupid. I don’t remember asking you for help,” I grumbled now, my shoulders shifting. This was why I didn’t date. Everyone got involved, opinions were thrown, and it wasn’t fun anymore. “And to be clear, this isn't a date, Rose.”
She brushed it off with a wave of one hand. “Cupid or not, you asked for my help. So now you have it. Do you trust me enough to set up the details for her? Or do you want to do that too?”
“Go ahead.”
Rose’s brows bounced high. “That was a trick question. You need to do something. But please, text the girl. I’m tired of sitting around waiting for your emails to go through.”
I rolled my eyes then looked around my desk. “Hey Rose,” I started. She held out a business card she already had in hand. I gave her a smirking grin as I snatched it from her. “Stop rubbing it in.”
“Stop making it so easy.” Rose slipped out, shutting the door completely behind her. Leaving me to my phone with Ashlyn Grove’s business card. The paper felt heavy in my hand as I translated the number into my text box.
And then I stared at the blinking cursor. Why was this so hard?
LIAM: Hello Ms. Grove, it’s Liam Macklen. My assistant threatened violence if I kept arranging dinner through the business email server.
ASHLYN: So you texted me?
LIAM: Easiest solution.
ASHLYN: Or you could stop texting me.
LIAM: I thought we were having dinner.
ASHLYN: A business dinner, purely professional. Yes. Tomorrow at 7pm?
LIAM: Sounds great.
ASHLYN: Rose gave me your address.
LIAM: I’m not sure that’s company policy. What if you try to take advantage of me tonight?
ASHLYN: I’ll resist.
LIAM: Even so. It’s exclusive admittance, by the way. I never bring girls there.
ASHLYN: You’re kidding. I thought you would’ve installed a turnstile by now.
