“But—”
“I’m thinking I may redecorate my office with pictures of your ass. Hey, I know, a screen saver of you in nothing but my shirt—”
“You are seriously the devil!” She clenched her fists and with jerky movements tried to put on her dress. “I can’t believe I thought this would be kept between us.”
“It will be,” I said smoothly.
She paused. “Then what—”
“I’m just making the point that the minute you walk out this door, there will be another time when we will discuss this—and, Avery?”
“What?” She gritted her teeth.
“You will be in my bed again before this week’s over.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
I shrugged.
“You’re a menacing man whore! I refuse to sleep with you after you’ve stuck your . . .” She screwed up her face and pointed at my dick. “Business all over town.”
“I’m hurt.” I really was, but I wasn’t going to let her see it. “And why do you care? Didn’t you say only one day?” I had her there.
“Exactly.” She nodded. “One day.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“Well . . .” I grinned as I read the short message. “Look at that. The universe is even on my side. I don’t have a Thursday anymore.” Nothing like being dumped via text.
“But . . .”—her eyes narrowed—“are you tricking me?”
“You know what sounds fantastic?” I ignored her anger. “A hamburger, say, tonight?”
“YOU HORRIBLE HUMAN BEING!” she shouted. “How dare you lure me into your bed with beef!”
“And extra cheese. I’m thinking . . .” I tapped my chin, trying to think of her favorite. “Swiss?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Extra fries.”
She glanced down. “Does this meal include fry sauce?”
“Do I look like I’m insane? Of course it includes sauce.”
She cleared her throat, put her hands on her hips, then smoothed down her dress, only to then put her hands on her hips again. “Pick me up at seven.”
It was cute as hell how she tried to stomp by me, stopped, backed up, and then very innocently stood up on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for the steak.”
I felt the buzz from that kiss hours later when I was in my office, and later that afternoon when I was staring at my phone and the five missed calls from my mother—the buzzing finally stopped.
Mom: PROBLEM.
Chapter Thirty-Two
AVERY
“I slept with the devil,” I whispered as I cupped my hand over Austin’s ear and prayed she wouldn’t repeat what I’d just said in the packed Starbucks.
“Huh?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked back and forth between me and her ever-present iPhone, which was lighting up with a new message every few minutes.
I rolled my eyes. “Answer your stupid boyfriend, and then I need all of your focus!”
“One sec.” She held up her hand and started furiously texting, then smiled like an insane person down at the screen. She was like five seconds away from kissing a mobile device. “He’s so sweet.”
“Uh-huh.” I took a sip of my drip coffee, irritated that my best friend couldn’t spare five seconds of her time to help me through my first pre-midlife crisis—because that’s what this was. I’d made a poor life choice, twice, and had somehow found myself on the road to hell because he’d convinced me to say yes again!
I chugged.
And then Austin’s hand was on mine. She pulled the cup from my mouth, and coffee dribbled down my chin.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t know it was that bad—and drip is meant to be sipped.” She handed me a napkin. “So what happened?”
“I don’t know!” I wailed. “I mean, I know what happened. I can’t stop thinking about what happened, and then I went ahead and did it again because that always makes things better, more sex!”
I shouted the last part, earning the glare of another patron. I lifted my coffee in salute and was promptly ignored.
Austin was quiet for a second and then leaned forward. “Can you please repeat that . . . ?”
“AUSTIN!”
“You said ‘sex.’”
“Yes.” I nodded slowly. “When a man and woman decide they find each other attractive and all the hormones start firing and juices release and your ability to make logical choices flies out the window because you see a naked chest—but, Austin . . . that man’s chest.”
“Back up, who’s the man?”
“The devil. Did we not just establish this?”
Her eyes widened. “Holy shit, you slept with Lucas Thorn?”
A barista walked over to us and handed Austin her pastry, then locked eyes with me. “You know Lucas Thorn?”
“I, uh . . .” I lifted my coffee into the air to buy some time. “He’s my boss?”
She blinked. “You slept with your boss?”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked sweetly.
“I used to be Thursday.” She held out her hand.
I had no choice but to shake it.
“And you are?” She was being nice. But meeting someone who he used to sleep with only hours after leaving his bed? Not the best way to start a morning. Just another painful reminder that I was in over my head.