Still, I can feel Damien’s gaze on us, hot and judgmental. Let him stare.
“Figured it would look good in your business card holder. Spruce up the business cards.”
“I knew you were the brains of the operation for a reason,” she teases.
She leans forward, and I try not to notice how her breasts brush the edge of her desk as she arranges the photo in front of her stack of cards. “Perfect.”
“You know what else is perfect?”
Her eyes sweep to mine, suddenly big and still, and I realize that my words have come out husky and thick. She pauses like whatever I say next might answer some question she hasn’t asked.
But I can’t say what I really want, which is you.
“Coffee.” I clear my throat and brighten my voice. “I’m going to grab some. Can I get any for you?”
She points at the mug that WanderWell’s women’s group delivered last Christmas. Empowered women empower women is emblazoned on the ceramic in glossy blue letters. Steam wafts from the mug now, the scent of coffee almost masking the scent of Greer’s light, sweet perfume. “I’m good.”
“Cool.” I shove my wallet back in my pocket and turn on my heel to make my way toward the kitchen area of the office. The cheery white walls and bright overhead lighting in the kitchen provide a sharp contrast with the dark, quiet desk area, and as I start the espresso machine, I pull the scent of coffee and toast into my lungs with a deep, grateful breath.
“There you are.”
I glance over my shoulder and smile at the sight of Eden speeding across the kitchen like a woman on a mission. Eden doesn’t ever just walk—she walks with purpose. Probably part of the territory, since in her spare time, she runs the Go-Getter Girl’s Guide blog all about tech and empowerment. She has too much to do to waste time.
“In the flesh,” I acknowledge.
“Good. Before you scatter off to other meetings, you need to pick your Secret Santa recipient.”
“Oh?” I lift an eyebrow.
She nods. “You must have missed the email when you were meeting with Damien.” She lowers her voice and inspects my face with a worried look. “Everything go okay?”
A muscle jumps in my jaw. “Yep.”
“I was just picking up on a little tension there.”
“Eden,” I bite out. “It’s fine.”
Her eyes say she doesn’t believe me, but she lets it go. “If you say so.” She thrusts a red silk bag into my face. “Pick a name.”
I reach inside and withdraw a slip of folded paper, then hold it up without opening it. “What are the rules of the game?”
“You have a twenty-five-dollar limit to get a holiday gift for your recipient. It’s a secret thing, so don’t let them know who you are until the party this Thursday.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Sure. Let me just write down the name of your recipient so I can keep track of everyone.” She plucks the name from my hands, and her cheeks go pink as she reads it. Her lips flatten as she scribbles the name on her clipboard, but she holds the information just out of sight. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says quickly, placing the paper back in my hand.
She scurries away in a swish of perfume, and I finally look down and read the slip of paper. Greer’s name curls in my palm—the loop of the G, the double Rs, twin Es. A treasure map of everything I want.
Inevitable.
Some decision solidifies inside my chest as I remember my conversation with my sister. I’ve been so worried about having to make a choice between Greer and this job offer that I’ve built everything up in my head to be bigger than it is. Right now, there is no job offer and there’s no Greer. There’s nothing to actually choose from. And I’m squandering whatever I might have with Greer if I never even try.
I’ve just been handed an opportunity to make her happy, and this time I’m not going to be dumb enough to waste it.
I know exactly what I need to do.
15
Greer
“Tell me, Greer Lively, how’s your no pants party going?” Locke’s low, seductive voice slides down my spine and tightens my nipples in a way that’s seriously inconvenient considering I’m only wearing a bralette under my thin sweater and we’re still in the office an hour from quitting time.
If his question’s not an opening, I don’t know what is.
I will my body to calm down and nibble on my bottom lip as I consider how to answer. “Technically, I’m only partying from the hours of six p.m. to eight a.m. since I think WanderWell looks down on pantlessness. But so far, so good.”
Locke’s quick smile dances not just on his lips, but also in his warm brown eyes. “Your roommate make it back home okay?”
“Yeah.”
Molly left me on Sunday afternoon with a hug and a knowing wink. “Something’s happening with Locke,” she singsonged as she zipped her suitcase around a stack of skimpy bikinis and a pair of polka-dotted flip-flops. “Use this time wisely.”
I couldn’t deny that I’d spent nearly every waking hour—along with most of my sleeping hours—with him last Thursday and Friday, a fact that Molly was more than happy to repeat for me.
She even texted me this morning, a single word followed by five question marks: So?????
That’s the question of my life, though. Does Locke want me? Does he not? And is whatever I feel worth possibly ruining our friendship?
“Do you want company?” Locke asks. “With pants,” he hurries to add. “I feel like tonight calls for a viewing of Elf to boost my holiday spirit.”
My body screams at me to say yes, but this is beyond the terms of our agreement. What does it mean? What does
