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“It wouldn’t? The two of you don’t work together.”
“No, I suppose we don’t.”
“Then why not give love a chance? Don’t tell me you don’t believe in it anymore, Summer.” His gaze is daring, but there’s a tiredness beneath it. Like he’s forcing himself to banter.
“I do believe in love,” I say. “But…”
“But what? Is a man working as a delivery guy below your usual standards?”
“No, not at all.”
“So?” He’s taunting me now, an edge in his voice.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine?”
“Yes, fine. I’ll ask him out for coffee when he drops by. You’re right.”
Anthony’s gaze widens, but then it crystallizes into his usual aloof hardness. “Great.”
“Yes.”
“What of my third and final date?”
“I’ll find you someone for this weekend.”
Anthony leans back in his chair, fingers drumming along the armrest. “Well, look at that. You’ll go out with the delivery guy, and I’ll have my third date, and we’ll see who has the most luck.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He stands. Buttons his suit jacket. “I’m looking forward to the end of our bet.”
“Looking forward to shooting down my third candidate, you mean.”
His eyes flash. “I’ll give her a chance, Summer. I told you I would.”
I don’t for a second think he will. It’s there in his eyes, in his demeanor, so much more abrasive today than it had been last weekend. Had I imagined the friendship between us? Or had he come to the conclusion that it was just as inappropriate as I had?
But it’s no excuse for rudeness. My voice turns to icy professionalism.
“I’ll text you with the details, Mr. Winter.”
“Thank you, Miss Davis.”
Ace’s ears are pulled back as he watches Anthony leave my office. I can only imagine that mine would do the same, if they could.
10
Anthony
I don’t know why I pick up the phone that Friday, seeing who’s on the caller ID. Not when the headache pounds behind my eyes and bitterness tastes like ash on my tongue.
“Anthony,” my mother says on the other line. I close my eyes at the censure in her tone.
“Hello,” I say. The obligatory small talk we’re forced to exchange is bothersome, but nothing like the irritation that flares up inside me when she starts on the one subject my family can’t help but discuss.
“Did you receive a Save the Date for Isaac and Cordelia?”
