“Were they?”
“Quite the opposite. I’ve never laughed harder in my life. I even called Weston to tell him about what you’d written. He agreed with your assessment.”
“And somehow, you still wanted me.”
Mirth brightened the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. “From the very first time I saw you.”
I started to fall into him, to let him kiss me silly as he was wont to do, but then I remembered what Ann had said to me about the HR mix-up while Elliot had been away. I’d stuffed that in the back of my mind and had forgotten about it until now.
“When was the first time you saw me, Elliot?”
His brows rose, but he didn’t seem worried, nor did he hesitate to answer me. “Outside the café down the street. I was early and decided to stop for coffee before coming to the office. But the truth was, I was dragging my feet because I’d just fired my last assistant the week before and wasn’t looking forward to the hiring process. I hadn’t even reached out to HR for a new candidate request.”
“Please explain because I’m so confused.”
“Well, you see, I was in a shitty mood and walked up to the café at the same time as a girl with long auburn hair. I opened the door for her. She sped past me, then spun around, curtsied, and said, ‘Thank you so much. You just made me feel good about how this day is going to go.’”
I searched my mind for Elliot, finding nothing but a faceless man in a suit. I must have been too flustered to really look at him.
“I didn’t realize that was you,” I whispered.
“I know you didn’t. You smiled at me, and my heart fucking stopped, but you weren’t really looking at me.”
“You followed me inside?”
“Not in a stalker way. Remember, I’d already been going in.”
“Of course you were,” I quipped. “Tell me more, please.”
“You were standing in line, nodding your head to the music—I think it was Smashing Pumpkins. Then it switched to the next song. I had no idea what it was until later when I looked it up.”
I laughed, knowing exactly the song he meant. “Oh my god. It was Miley Cyrus, ‘Party in the USA.’”
“Yeah.” His mouth hitched. “The baristas started singing along to the chorus, and when you got to the counter to order, you sang too. Not loud. You didn’t make a scene, but you and the cashier had a moment where you were smiling and singing to each other, and it was so intensely human, the short connection of singing a cheesy—”
“Miley Cyrus isn’t cheesy.”
He held up a hand. “Not cheesy, sorry. My point is, watching you ripped my guts apart, the way you connected with her so easily, and I was hooked. I needed to have more of that.”
“So you followed me again?”
He nodded. “Imagine my surprise when you walked right into my building. Then you disappeared into the restroom, and I had no clue what to do. I just…waited.”
“And I ran into you. But I wasn’t supposed to have an interview with you.”
“No, you weren’t. But once I’d spoken to you, I couldn’t bring myself to send you away, so I gave you what I thought was an impossible task.”
“Hoping I’d fail so you didn’t have to do the sending away.”
“Yes. Because I didn’t want things or people, especially not beautiful women who made me feel more for them before we ever spoke than I had for anyone else.” He cradled my jaw in his palm, his eyes darting between mine. “But then you showed up in my office, wearing clothes from the lost and found, and I was forced to interview you. It was torture. I wanted to have you close. I knew that but wouldn’t allow myself to have it.”
“You gave me the job, though.”
His brow winged. That dubious fucking brow. “The background check said you lived with your partner. You were safe for me to have around, so long as I didn’t look at you too closely.”
It broke my heart to think about him not letting himself reach for happiness. He’d gone thirty-one years so closed off it had taken an—admittedly classic—Miley Cyrus song to finally get through to him.
“I’m sorry you found the nasty things I said about you before I shredded them. I hope you know I don’t feel that way anymore.”
His mouth turned into a full, soft smile. “Oh, I do know. I read that I have a cute butt.”
I snorted a laugh. “Well, you do. That’s indisputable.”