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"Why are you so curious about the why?" I was deflecting, and poorly at that, but I just wanted to take the edge off.
"Because I've never seen you look at a guy the way you looked at him."
My mouth fell open, the retort I had ready stalling on my tongue. The heat rushed over me in a single, brutal wave and I didn’t have the time to hide the truth. My tells did me in. Like the red that was coloring my cheeks and divulging all my secrets. The way I couldn't stop blinking, and refused to meet her gaze head on. "And how do I look at him?"
"Like he's a mystery that you're trying to pretend you don't want to solve. Like you know that when, not if you fall, it could be the real thing."
My heart hammered in my chest and it should have been a good thing. Women search their whole lives for that kind of feeling. A man that makes them dream. That proves that all the heartbreaks were just speed bumps on the way to something powerful and lasting. But it required letting go, and trusting that when I did, Jason wouldn't leave me standing out there on that ledge alone.
And that took all the warm and fuzzy feelings and dropped the temperature to the several degrees below freezing. The last time I foolishly thought a man was ready to do the happily ever after thing, he'd snatched it all away, and this was a man who was on the ‘Nice Guy’ end of the spectrum. Jason Cox was not a nice guy, and thinking this would end in anything other than catastrophe would be foolish.
So if I let him in, googly eyes and butterflies in my stomach or not, I'd do things the way I always did things. Don't get attached. Don't make things complicated. So when he inevitably disappointed me, it wouldn't leave me wrecked while he carried on like I was just a speed bump on his road.
"I'm just saying, if you happen to cross his path again, it wouldn't be a terrible thing if you explored what was behind door number Hot Ass Billionaire'." Tamara cajoled.
I rolled my eyes and let out an agitated sigh, pretending like I hadn't decided that I'd do just that.
If our paths crossed again.
CHAPTER SIX: JASON
"He still doesn't want to see you, Jason."
I held out the bouquet of sunflowers, knowing that half the battle of getting back into my best friend's graces was getting past his no nonsense secretary, Mrs. Larson. After Denise pointed out that none of the secretaries at Cox Technologies was over the age of 30, Scott had wasted no time transferring his twenty something to a different department and bringing in someone that suited her tastes.
It had been many moons since Mrs. Larson had seen her thirties, but she could run circles around any of the other secretaries with both hands tied behind her back. She had the epitome of hawklike features: steely gray eyes that peeled the flesh from anyone who dared to show her the slightest bit of disrespect, cheekbones that were as sharp as her tongue, and lips that were as thin as her patience. She had a full head of gray hair that she wore pinned into a low bun at the nape of her neck, reminding me of my favorite teacher in high school, a badass named Miss Ledger who suffered no fools, yours truly included.
"I saw these at the stand on the way to the office and-"
"I'll stop you right there," Mrs. Larson butted in, swiveling toward me and locking her disapproving eyes on me. "I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday. You haven't bought a woman flowers a day in your life."
I feigned offense. "I've bought women clothes, jewelry-"
"You've bought hoochies trinkets, because it benefited you." She beckoned for me to pass her the flowers. "Tell Delia that the flowers are beautiful."
"You don't think I could pick a nice arrangement, Mrs. Larson?" I winked, knowing that she'd call me on my bullshit. It was one of the things I loved about her.
"You could. You just didn't." She brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled the fragrance. "Kinda like I knew you could give a good best man's toast and decided to attack Denise instead."
I'd almost forgotten that she was at the reception.
I crossed my arms and tried to pretend like her disappointment didn't affect me. That I didn't care that Scott had ignored me for the remainder of the tense reception, and had continued the trend, even after he was back from his Caribbean honeymoon. "I've already apologized to Scott."
"Uh huh," she grunted, delicately lowering the flowers to her desk, then turning her ire back on me. Full blast. "Denise grates on just about everybody's nerves, but she didn't deserve to have that news broadcasted like that. You should be getting her flowers."
"Right," I scoffed. Even if I was in the mood to play nice, I'd already been informed via a lengthy email from Mrs. Scott Mitchell that I was no longer welcome at any future event at their home, or within ten feet of her, or their child. I wouldn’t be losing any sleep because I hated her brand of stuffy events, I'd rather have my fingernails removed by pliers than hang out at their McMansion, and I didn't do kids. But the freeze out from my best friend did sting. Just a little.
An awkward silence passed between me and Mrs. Larson, my nostrils flaring when I realized that she really had no intention of letting me back to see Scott.
"Anything else I can do for you?” she asked, drumming her nails on her desk impatiently.
I swallowed my pride, deciding against making a joke. "Just tell him I stopped by. And I'll see him at the meeting."
"His assistant will be attending the meeting as his proxy," Mrs. Larson said without missing a beat. When my face fell, she showed the slightest crack in her impenetrable wall, letting out a weary sigh. "Give him time, Jason."
I ducked my head and forced a smile on my lips. "Enjoy the flowers!"
I headed toward the elevator, impatiently punching the down arrow. Needing to escape. Needing to pretend that I wasn't having regrets of my own about my last minute decision to spill the beans about their little bundle of joy.
