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“Probably going to catch up on a few things, then be accidentally-on-purpose late for a forced trip to the Farmer’s Market tomorrow morning.” Annie’s lips pucker, like she has a bad taste in her mouth. What’s wrong with the Farmer’s Market?
Yeah, I’m a secret Market Man. Legs loves to go, too. We always find the best avocados.
“What’s happening at the Farmer’s Market?” I ask, genuinely curious what could elicit such a negative reaction to great coffee, reusable canvas bags, and homemade peach jam.
“Long story.” Annie shakes her head, then scoots backwards and scrambles up off of the floor. “Speaking of late, I am currently three minutes late for lunch with Vanessa.”
“It’s 3pm.”
“Lunch doesn’t have to be chicken, rice and spinach from the same restaurant at precisely 12:30 every day, you know.”
“I get steak sometimes,” I say, defensive. Then, I remember the meal I had at Maria’s last night.
Fine. She got me.
Annie gives a light chuckle and shakes her head. Her auburn hair brushes over her shoulders. “Wild one, aren’t you?”
“When I want to be.”
Annie’s mouth pops open, and two spots of pink appear on her cheeks. I can understand why—I didn’t mean for that to sound so flirty.
Or maybe I did. It’s like someone poured water on my carefully-painted lines, and the spill is blurring all the edges. Making things murky.
She recovers quickly. “You may be gone by the time I’m back, but have a good weekend. And while you’re at it, why don’t you test out SITL’s upcoming new feature and be a little flexible with your weekend schedule.”
Her confidence is amusing.
“And how do you propose I go about doing that?”
Her eyes flash, and my stomach drops. “Do something spontaneous. I dare you.”
16
ANNIE
Liam: Spontaneously letting you know that I was two minutes late for my first taxi service.
I stare at my phone, reading the text again. I still have no idea what he means by “taxi service,” but I’ve spent enough time with Liam Donovan this week to garner two things: one, he does not enjoy talking for the sake of talking. And two, he hates being late.
A smile stretches over my face as I walk along the sunny city sidewalk. If this text is anything to go by, Liam has actually taken me up on my challenge, and I’m hoping this means that we’re finally on the right foot after a shaky start.
I mean, things were already going better last night—he listened so intently to all my thoughts on how to improve SITL’s features. Plus, the guydidgive up half his office space for me (fine, maybe more than half. What can I say? I’m a spreader). He seems to genuinely care what his employees have to say—surprising given his cool, standoffish demeanor—and it just makes me more curious about him. Eager to know what else lies behind those dark eyes.
What makes Liam… Liam.
Because I guess we’re on a first name basis now. And, yanno, texting.
My fingers hover over the screen before I type out a reply.
Annie:Wow! Letting your hair down this weekend, aren’t you?
Liam:Actually, it’s pretty firmly held in place right now with a whole bottle of hairspray.
I frown at the screen, uncomprehending. Is this a joke…?
My phone dings again.
Liam:Long story.
