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Shit. Normally, I give meetings my full focus.
“Late night?” Austin asks, looking amused.
“Yup,” I reply. Which is technically true. I was up past midnight, thinking about Grace again. I can feel Dash studying me from across the table.
“How are the weddings going, by the way?” he asks. The question feels loaded. “With the fake date—what’s her name?”
“Grace,” I say, not looking up. Best to give this as little air as possible. “And fine. Two down. Ten to go.”
“Uh huh.” Dash keeps assessing me. “The arrangement working out?”
I give a shrug. “Seems fine. Now, about the wholesale orders…”
I change the subject back to safer territory, but after the meeting wraps, Dash loiters. I brace myself. Of all the guys, Dash knows me the best, and he’ll crow the loudest if he hears about what’s happened with Grace.
But instead of an inquisition, Dash just asks, “Want to grab lunch?”
“Sure.” I agree and grab my jacket. I figure we’ll just get a casual bite nearby, but Dash takes me halfway across town to a dim, windowless building buried in Midtown.
“Are we in the right place?” I ask, looking dubiously around.
Dash grins, leading me inside. “It’s a virtual reality place, I’m thinking about investing in the core tech. Plus, you’re already such a space case these days, we might as well literally try out a float through space.”
My stomach lurches at the thought. “Hard pass.”
Dash laughs. “Oh, man. I forgot your thing with space.”
“I don’t have athingwith space,” I argue… Okay, yeah, I find it terrifying. Skip me on the sci-fi movies.
“Well, take your pick. Run with wild horses. Tour Tokyo. Do a ski jump.” Dash is waving over an employee in a branded polo shirt. “He’ll walk you through all the experience options.”
I accept that headset and controllers from the employee, who briefly explains how it works and takes our food orders. Which, thankfully, are more down to earth.
“BLTs all around.” Dash reclines the chair at the edge of the booth.
“What, you’re just going to sit there and watch?” I ask, annoyed. “Like some kind of VR perv?”
It would be just like him to take pictures of me making a fool of myself. He would definitely send it to all the guys, too.
“Fine, fine.” Dash picks up a headset, and we get stuck into a round of boxing, our virtual selves sparring in a ring with a cheering crowd. I admit, I feel like a little kid playing video games for the first time. It’s ridiculous and disorienting and awesome… And clearly part of Dash’s plan to get my guard down, because I’m just finishing up my sandwich when he fixes me with a knowing stare.
“Alright, what was the deal this morning?”
“Nothing,” I lie. Sometimes, it can be nice to be known by my friends, and sometimes it just pisses me off.
“Sure. Our fearless leader is always that scattered when it comes to the quarterly projections.”
“Dash,” I say, warning him, but he doesn’t give a shit about my mood. Or, you know, privacy.
“So tell me more about Grace.”
I scowl.
He laughs. “I knew it! What happened? You put the moves on her, and now she’s a stage-three clinger? You’ve got to learn some self-control.”
“I have control,” I inform him. “Believe me, I have plenty. We could have…” I trail off, overcome with images of what, exactly, we could have done that night.
Hot, sexy, filthy images.
