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“Don’t give him a reason not to wear a shirt,” Joe said caustically when I said so. “I’m pretty sure he’s just looking for one.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Gloria said.
The three of us hung out at my cubicle, watching videos, Joe and Gloria trading barbs, until nearly two. Then I felt a telltale prickle as the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I knew Aiden was behind me.
Sure enough, within a second, I heard him clear his throat. “Buses are here, team. Remember, have fun, but keep your shit together. You’re still representing Cross Media.”
As everyone streamed toward the exit, I took my time gathering up my stuff. I figured Aiden would go last, and I was proved right. We were in the last wave of people going down the elevator, which I hoped meant we’d end up near each other on the bus. I’d decided to take my brother’s advice and go for it, and sitting next to Aiden on the bus was phase one of my plan.
The elevator was crowded, but even still, I felt the electric tension arching between us. He was as aware of my proximity in the small space as I was his. We exited together, our shoulders brushing. He held himself so stiffly, his jaw set, and he made sure to put some space between us the second he could.
On the bus, I was disappointed when Maureen had saved him a seat in the front row. She had both of their travel mugs, but this time, I didn’t think there was coffee in them. I sat four rows back with Andrew, a cute guy with an open smile and a habit of touching whoever he was talking to. He was twisted around talking to the people behind us, leaving me free to study Aiden and Maureen.
I had initially wondered if maybe there was something between them, but the more I studied them, the more sure I was that there was nothing. They had a brother and sister vibe. Besides, I was pretty sure Maureen was married with kids. Not that that would stop everyone, but Aiden’s moral compass was clearly–and annoyingly–rigidly fixed.
The problem wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in me, I’d reasoned with Bran and Liv, it was that he wouldn’t do anything about it because of his friendship with my dad, even though there really was no reason not to. I was a consenting adult, as Bran had pointed out.
“Respect it,” Liv said. “Go out with someone else.”
Bran had snapped his fingers. “Yes, go out with someone else–and make sure he knows it.”
Liv had punched him on the arm. He’d said, “Hey, watch it.” I’d left to get us another round because they were clearly about to flirt, and I didn’t want to see it.
Now though, I considered Bran’s advice. Maybe he was onto something. I hadn’t played games since high school, but jealousy was a potent motivator. Maybe it was even potent enough to overcome Aiden’s misgivings.
With that in mind, I turned in my seat, making sure to bump my leg against Andrew’s, and joined in his conversation.
I’d let Aiden watchmetalk to someone else for a change.
CHAPTER12
AIDEN
Andrew Gold was a great analyst. He was instrumental to the Market analysis team. But maybe I could fire him anyway.
I toyed with the idea as, two rows ahead, he leaned in close to Layla’s ear to say something that made her shout with laughter. As always, the smoky timbre of it went straight to my groin. I’d never thought a laugh could be so sexy, but it was the way she threw her head back, the motion of that beautiful russet brown hair, the way her blue eyes closed as her cherry red lips curved. I wanted to make her laugh, then kiss her while her mouth was still wide open. Slip my tongue in and…
“You’re not eating your hot dog,” Maureen said, offended. “I put the damn relish on just like you like it.”
Maureen had stood in line for our hot dogs while I went halfway around the stadium in search of the beer we liked. So now, even though the hot dogs were on the company dime, she was pissed I wasn’t eating it. Sometimes, having Maureen as one of my closest friends was akin to having a fussy older sister.
I took a big bite to satisfy her, then continued boring holes in the back of Gold’s head. He was a friendly guy, but was it my imagination, or was he being a little too friendly with Layla? His hand was splayed out on the arm rest between them, and two of his fingers were on her bare leg. Too damn much of her legs were bare for my liking. She was wearing white shorts that showed a mile of tan skin. Her Red Sox shirt wasn’t as tissue paper thin as her t-shirt from yesterday, but it clung to her generous curves and pulled the glints of red from her hair.
The day was postcard perfect. Low eighties, no humidity, the sky was a clear blue dome over the bright green grass of Fenway Park. Baseball was invented for days like this. Three hours with your best pals, beer, and hot dogs. I tried to get in the zone, but my gaze was drawn inexorably back to Layla and Andrew. My chest grew tighter and tighter as the innings wore on and he transferred his full hand to her leg, one finger at a time.
I was in a foul mood by the end of the fourth inning. I told Maureen I needed another drink, but what I really needed was to get away from Layla and Gold. I took a trek around the stadium, passing our favorite beer stand the first time because one lap wasn’t enough time to finish berating myself. What the hell was wrong with me? I was being a complete fucking idiot. I had no right to this burning knot of tension in my chest because Layla wasn’t anything to me but an employee and my best friend’s daughter.
And then suddenly, she was right in front of me. She was standing at the top of the stairs, two beers balanced in her left hand, raising a third beer to her lips with her right hand, waiting for the play to be over so she could go back to her seat. I hadn’t even realized the circuit had brought me back to our section.
Her eyes flicked to the side as if feeling the weight of my gaze in her peripheral vision. Her cherry red lips curved into a smile and she raised the hand that only held one beer in greeting. “Hi, what are you doing?”
“Getting a beer.” I didn’t mean to clip my response so short, but I couldn’t help it. It was like she was fucking haunting me. “I see you found some.” It was meant to be lighthearted, but it came out with a bite.
Layla raised her eyebrows and flicked her tongue over her top lip as if she thought there was a hint of beer foam there. Or she was just trying to torture me. If it was the latter, she was succeeding in those little white shorts with the ghost of Gold’s fingerprints on her upper thigh. “They’re not all for me. One is for Andrew and one is for Gloria.”
“I figured.” It was like there was something curdling in my throat, making it impossible to speak without an acidic afterbite.
Layla looked at me without speaking, then suddenly, she turned away and began walking. I stared after her, confounded. She wasn’t going toward our section, and she wasn’t going toward the bathroom or the concessions, either. She glanced over her shoulder once at me,aren’t you coming?I couldn’t help myself. I followed.
