“The Burger Bar? Isn’t that the place owned by your college boyfriend, the hot chef?” Erin hadn’t gone to MSU with Mia and me, but she’d heard enough about low-down good-for-nothing cheating bastard Nick Lupo to sound shocked at the idea of putting myself in his path.
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Why would you want to go there?”
I gave her the lowdown, and she gasped. “Are you serious? And you said yes to this without telling Mia? Coco, this sounds like a very bad idea.”
“I had to, OK? Mia said I could keep the commission of any event I booked while she’s off. And I need money for a down payment so I can get the hell out of my parents’ house. This looked like a golden opportunity! How the hell was I supposed to know she’d want my ex flipping fucking burgers at her party?” I was yelling at her by the time I finished, but I couldn’t help it. The thought of seeing Nick again after all this time had my intestines in knots. I’d avoided watching Lick My Plate for fear I’d backslide and get mopey about him again, but I’d seen his photo online enough times in the last year to know that he was still ridiculously attractive. The boils and baldness I’d wished upon him had not materialized.
“OK, OK. I get it. But why not tell Mia the truth?”
“Because she was panicking about the timeline, which isn’t that big a deal. It’s not the when that’s the problem here—it’s the who, Erin. Please tell me you’ll come with me tonight to talk to him.” Erin could sweet talk anyone into anything. She could probably even make him think it’d been his idea in the first place.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s my mother’s birthday and I promised her I’d have dinner with her. How about tomorrow night?”
“No, I gotta get there tonight. I’m short on time as it is.”
“How do you know he’ll even be there?”
“I don’t, not really. I’m just hoping.”
“I could probably meet you later if you need me to, unless she guilts me into a movie. But text me, OK?”
“OK. And please don’t tell Mia I lied. I’ll come clean with her in France, I promise.”
She agreed to keep it between us, although I’m sure she thought that was a Very Bad Idea. But I’d worry about Mia later. It was after six o’clock, which gave me just enough time to brush my teeth in the office bathroom, take my hair down from its messy knot, and assess my appearance in the tiny mirror over the sink. Did I look good enough to face an ex without a wingman? I took a quick inventory.
Hair a bit tousled but otherwise OK. Had I known about tonight’s errand I might have washed it this morning, but too late to worry about that now.
Eye makeup good, lips needed a new coat. I dug my go-to color, MAC’s Russian Red, out of my purse and reapplied, then stuck a finger in my mouth and slid it out to avoid getting any color on my teeth.
You shouldn’t do that in front of me. You know it turns me on.
Nick’s voice slid into my head without warning. In the mirror I imagined seeing him come up
behind me, wrap an arm around my waist and bury his face in my hair.
You smell so good.
Stop it, you’ll muss me up and we’re already late.
I don’t care.
It’s your own birthday dinner. We’re in your parents’ house.
I don’t care.
I shivered, feeling his breath on my neck, one palm easing down my belly, his eyes on mine in the mirror, his cock stirring against my back.
We were late that night. We were late a lot.
Desire surged through me, and I cleared my throat and my head. Stop it. None of that. I eyed my reflection suspiciously. You want one thing only from him, and it doesn’t involve an erection so just keep focused on the task at hand.
Breath? I exhaled into my hand and sniffed fast, feeling a little like a seventh grader at a dance but satisfied with the outcome.
Now for the outfit review. I was wearing a dress since it was July and I have a strict no-pants policy between the months of June and September. Not only do dresses keep my legs cooler, but I’ve always felt they’re more flattering to my hourglass figure.
Today’s choice was one of my favorites—a curve- hugger with cap sleeves, a gathered bust, and a slim pencil skirt. The print was tiny red roses on a cream- colored background, and the material was stretchy and starchy at the same time, some miracle of modern engineering. I love vintage looks, but I will be the first to admit that my closet is full of contemporary knockoffs, which are sturdier, easier to clean, and just as pretty.
I locked my office door and took the wide central staircase down to the foyer of the renovated Victorian mansion in Brush Park that housed the Devine Events offices. Mia and I each had offices on the second floor that used to be bedrooms, and we shared a room between them which might have been a dressing room at one time but now served a dual purpose as a small conference room and lobby. There was a powder room and bathroom at the end of the hall, which we shared with the interior designers who rented the rooms on the other side of the stairs, but at this hour on a Friday, the entire house was empty.
The dark, shiny wood of the banister and beautifully refinished plasterwork on the ceiling reminded me of my dream house in Indian Village. I ran my hand along its satiny finish and refocused my
attention on what mattered—getting the house. If all went well in the next few days, it could be mine within in the next few months. My insides danced with excitement. All I had to do was get Nick to do me this one favor. And he owed me, didn’t he? He so owed me.