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“And some other things.”
“So you used Amazon by yourself?”
“No, I got my assistant to do it for me.”
She saw him grimace after he said it.
Like he knew he shouldn’t have.
But he was wrong to think so.
Because now she had another completely harmless thing to rib him about.
“I can’t believe you’ve got an assistant,” she said with just enough withering disdain and eye rolling to get him to bite. To get him to throw up his hands and try to come up with some kind of reasonable defense.
That was not in the least bit reasonable at all.
“All rich people have one. It’s like the rules,” he said.
But it made the conversation even funnier, and that was the main thing.
“Because money makes you forget how to wipe your own bum?”
“All right, smart-arse. She doesn’t do owt like that for me. She just, you know, makes sure I’m going to the right places for meetings I don’t want to be at while wearing the right fancy suits because apparently you can’t just buy them at Burton.”
He shook his head, like he was disgusted.
And now things weren’t just much easier.
She was almost laughing.Burton, she thought.
Cheap, silly old Burton, where every lad she’d ever known bought their clothes. She had to bite her lip and look away while she came up with a retort to that. And when it did come, it was a lot warmer toward him than she strictly intended. “To be fair, that suit you were wearing yesterday was hecking amazing,” she said, and as soon as she did she knew what she was going to get.
That spark in his eyes. One eyebrow lifting.
A slightly softer, more wry twist to his voice.
“Was that a compliment? Steady on, mate. I might think you like me,” he teased. And okay, he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t saying she really did. But still, she felt the urge to cover for herself. To give herself an alibi on thesomething about you produced a complimentary feeling in mefront.
“No, I like whoever bought it.”
“Of course. Should have realized.”
“You should. I mean, whoever it is sounds much more amazing than you.”
“I’ll pass these kind regards on to Daisy. She’ll be thrilled to find another person she can have a good laugh with about me behind my bloody back.”
“I wouldn’t laugh about you behind your back.”
“Yeah, you don’t mind doing it to my face. Hairy Richard Gere, you cheeky little sod,” he said. Though here was the thing: it felt good when he did it. Because she could see he was almost laughing, and not even trying to hide it. And he clearly hadn’t taken it in a weird way. He’d taken it as intended:
As a joke, as just a bit of teasing, of the kind he seemed to quite enjoy.
Which meant that everything was okay now. Order had been restored.
No one was taking things the wrong way and they’d nippedthe wholemystery womanthing in the bud and now they were going to have a good, productive day. And they did. Everything was fine. It went smooth as silk, and she went to bed that night with only one thought in her perfectly calm head:
Crisis averted.
