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“Like you give two shits,” Wyatt retorts.
Nope, not a single one.
I check the clock on my computer for the fifth time, drumming my pen on my desk.
6:43pm. Claire’s late.
Now I’m worried she’s not going to show, and that irritates me beyond belief. Did I take it too far with the texts today? I don’t think so. We’ve had this thing going all week, and she could easily ignore me, but she never fails to text me back. I think she secretly enjoys our banter.
I open my phone to ask her where she is but stop myself before I can hit send. Leaning back in my chair, I peel off the dark-rimmed glasses I wear when I’m staring at my computer for a long time. I pinch the bridge of my nose and rub my eyes because—what the fuck?
Wyatt’s right. Claire’s getting under my skin. She is under my skin. I have no idea how she got there, but she wormed her way in without even trying. In fact, I fucking put her there. She tried the distance thing. It’s like she’s got a leg out, foot kicking at me at all times, trying to keep me at bay, but I just keep swatting her leg away and grabbing for her, dragging her right back.
I can’t help it, and it’s screwing with my brain.
Wyatt pops his head in. “You look wrecked, dude.”
I clear my throat and sit up, fixing my glasses back in place and resting my elbows on my desk. “Little bit. Just tired, end of the work week and all that.”
He checks his watch. “You sure she’s coming?”
Not sure about anything right now. “She’ll be here.”
His lips purse, head bobbing. A door opens somewhere in the outer office and Wyatt leans out to see who it is. His face splits in two. “Well, well, well. We were just talking about you, little Miss Sunshine.”
“Well, stop it,” I hear Claire say, all sassy with a hint of humor.
She appears in the doorway, keeping her eyes off me. Wyatt wraps her in a hug and they kiss each other on the cheek. When the hell did they get so chummy?
“You look ravishing as always,” he tells her with the slow sweep of his gaze, letting it linger on her hips.
I can’t blame him. She’s wearing the tightest pair of jeans I’ve ever seen with slits at the knees and frayed hems. Literally, these things may as well be painted over her delicious curves. A pair of white Chuck’s decorate her feet and a simple, gray Cherry Lane T-shirt stretches across her chest, the tiniest bit of skin peeking out above the waistline of her jeans.
“Your compliments are so much nicer than his,” Claire says, jerking her thumb toward me.
“Because I don’t talk about your strawberry-flavored vagina?” Wyatt flashes her a devilish grin.
Claire falters for a solid ten seconds, mouth gaping, before she smacks him in the shoulder.
Wyatt feigns hurt, rubbing the spot and pouting at her. “Feisty.”
“You’re both little piglets.” She hits him with my favorite squinty eyes.
“The best of us are, darling.” He hits her with a wink. “Alright, I’m off. Have a good night and try not to kill each other.”
“You’re leaving?” The words tumble frantically from Claire’s mouth.
He nods. “Avery’s taking the lead on Cherry Lane. I’m just here to be a pretty face, and when he needs my extra brain cells.” He taps his temple with two fingers.
I roll my eyes but Claire’s smile tugs up her face, pulling in those dimples. I love her smile.
“I like you better than him,” she whispers cheekily. I want to throw her over my shoulder.
Wyatt leans forward and brushes a lock of hair off her neck. “As you should. And I’d treat you much better, too.”
I crumple up a piece of paper and send it flying across the room, hitting him in the side of his blond head. “Get the fuck outta here.”
His laughter bounces off the walls, following him down the hall until I hear the ding of the elevator.
