Would Rowan really give my number to someone dangerous? No way.
Okay, well maybe. But I would sure hope he wouldn’t.
I make a conscious decision to keep texting Scott and see where our conversation goes. It’s not like it’s much of a chore. And after everything I messaged him last night, I expected him to run for the hills. And that’s saying something because Florida is one of the flattest states in the entire US.
At least he came back.
Even I was surprised at that. According to my mom, I have the subtlety of a lightning bolt and the personality of a firework. She told me it would take an equally strong man to appreciate that kind of force of nature.
Still waiting, Mom. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to find this strong man but I’ve had zero luck on the dating apps Claire signed me up for. It’s my fault. I’m too much of a dreamer who still believes in fairy tales and the possibility of a duke swooping in and marrying me.
I drop my head in my hands and sigh.
“Am I working you too hard?”
I choke on my intake of breath. Rowan stands in the entryway of my cubicle. He looks…well, damn. Casual Friday looks really fucking good on him. He’s got that country club feel with a designer polo and khaki pants. I wonder what it’s like to have so much money that I could have a collared T-shirt dry-cleaned instead of carrying a spot-corrector pen in every purse I own. Is that how the other half lives?
I let out another sigh. “No. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“Something keeping you up?” The side of his mouth lifts.
“Don’t start asking me personal questions. I might do something crazy like assume you care about me.”
“Save the fairy tales for your proposals.”
I grin. “Do you talk about anything besides work?”
“Why would I? Work is my life.” He looks at me like a scientist with a microscope.
“That’s sad, Rowan. Even for you.”
“I don’t see how.”
“What do you like to do for fun?”
“People still do things for fun?”
Was that…a joke? If so, his tone could use some work.
I laugh to encourage more of them. “You need to find a hobby that doesn’t include watching the stock market.”
“One does not simply ‘watch the stock market.’”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you said that with a serious face. With the way you act, you’ll end up in a shallow grave before you have your first gray hair because you’re addicted to work.”
His glare penetrates my faux confidence. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“No. But it’s not like you can fire me for stating an observation.”
“At least not while you’re my golden ticket.”
Golden ticket? I don’t think I’ve ever been referenced as something so…special.
My shoulders sag. How pathetic is that? I set my standards so low after Lance, I’m obsessing over casual compliments from my boss.
A boss who kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before.
But my boss nonetheless.
I wipe away whatever look is on my face. “Is there a reason you came by my office?”
“Is that what we’re calling cubicles the size of my shower nowadays?”
I flip him off underneath my desk.