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She nods and I disappear down the hallway and into the lunchroom. I grab a couple bottles of sparkling water and two beers from the fridge while the buttery, salty aroma fills the air. Wyatt hates when I microwave popcorn. He says it makes the whole office smell. It does. It makes it smell amazing.
I dump it into a bowl and when I return to my office, Claire’s got her shoes kicked off and she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, papers spread out around her. She’s pulled her hair up into a messy top knot, several loose tendrils spilling down her neck and around her face while she rolls her pen between her teeth, and I’m struck by how effortlessly gorgeous she is.
I drop down across from her. “Is that the same pen I had in my mouth on Monday?”
She pulls the black pen out of her mouth and stares at the bite marks on it. “Ugh, yuck.”
My brows lift in question. “You’ve had my tongue down your throat.”
She taps a finger against her cute little chin, pretending to be perplexed. “Nope, definitely don’t remember that. Must be thinking of someone else.”
“Trust me, Claire, I’m not. Yours is the only mouth my tongue has been in for a week.” Two, actually, since the last time I hooked up with someone was the weekend before we met.
“Ha! Doubt it.” She shoves her hand into the bowl, tossing some buttery kernels into her mouth. I’d like to be in there myself.
“It’s true.”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “You know, you say that as if you deserve an award for somehow managing to only mouth fuck one girl in the past eight days. But when I look at you, I realize it’s probably a huge accomplishment. So,” she sweeps her hands out in front of her, “how commendable of you, Mr. Beck.”
My mouth quirks up. “You’re so saucy.”
She flashes me a grin that matches her tone. “It’s all part of my charm.”
“It sure is. So is your brutal honesty.”
“You mean because I just called you out on being a huge player?” She twists the top off a beer and takes a long swig. “You asked me to fuck and we’d known each other all of ten minutes. We didn’t even know each other’s names.”
“You wouldn’t let me give you my name,” I remind her.
“Yeah. ’Cause you’re a huge player.”
My blood starts to tingle on its own accord, coursing through my veins with a little more vigor than I’m used to. “I’m not a player.”
“Do you go on dates?”
“Sometimes.” I think for a moment. “But not often,” I admit.
“And do you sleep with a lot of women?”
My eyes narrow. “A player would imply that I lead women on, make them think I’m after one thing when I’m really after another. I’m upfront and honest about what I want. If it doesn’t suit the woman, it ends there. Hence why I told you I wanted to fuck you.” I shrug casually. “I was being honest with you. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with either of those things.”
Claire looks away, focusing on her hands resting on top of her pile of papers. “Right,” she says softly. I don’t know where her sass went. She clears her throat and pops the binder tabs open, pulling a few sheets out and passing them to me. “I think the kitchen is probably the most important place to start, because we can’t really proceed with anything else if we don’t have the kitchen to do the work. These are the plans, though they’re not set in stone.” She points to a blueprint and then shoves another set of papers in my hands. “These are the quotes I’ve gotten so far. They seem a little high, but I don’t really know the first thing about building a restaurant-style kitchen.”
My gaze drifts over the quotes. They’re definitely high. Higher than high. I only know this because we’ve invested in a few high-end restaurants in the past. “These are way too high,” I murmur, glancing at her. “I know a guy. I’ll reach out to him. See if he can come by next week and look at the place.”
“That would be great.” She’s still not looking at me and her voice is crazy quiet.
“What did I say?”
Her eyes land on mine. “Hmm?”
“What did I say that’s got you upset?”
Her nose scrunches. It’s cute. “I’m not upset.”
“You lost your sass, you’re all quiet, and you’re barely looking at me. You’re upset.”
I lean forward on my elbows, studying her face. There’s a tiny crease between her eyebrows and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on it. She looks away. Again.
