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There was no way in hell he thought I believed that for a second. “Craig, I just want to be very clear, I’m not looking to date right now.”
“Oh no. Of course,” he sputtered. “But you do look like you need a friend. Someone to show you the ropes.” He indicated the dumplings. “How are they?”
I sighed, pretty sure he wasn’t listening. "Delicious."
"See, I told you this place was great. So how are you finding London? I know that the weather is drab and dreary, but there’s lots to do and a good night life. I can show you around since you don’t know anyone."
Had he not seen me with Lance? "Actually, Lance Lakewood is a good friend. He’s been a pretty good tour guide, but honestly, I've just been working."
"You can never have enough tour guides. And that's a shame, but I noticed that about you. You're always first at your desk if you're in the office that day, and the last to leave. We have to change that. You have to enjoy the city. Or get out to the country. My family has a little cottage near Edinburgh. I could take you sometime."
Of their own volition, my eyebrows crept up the more he talked. He didn't even seem to notice the panic that ensued. "Um, I-I'm not really one for the country."
He waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, you'll love it. Fresh air. Shooting."
I’d see Get Out. Shooting in the country did not sound appealing. "Shooting what?"
"Oh, not to worry. Mom is a vegan, so we don't actually shoot ducks or anything, just clay plates."
"Just to keep up the skill?" I asked.
"Something like that. Aristocratic holdover, I guess. What's it like in New York?"
"You know, it's New York. Bright lights, big city."
"I've always wanted to go. Maybe you can be my tour guide,” he said suggestively.
I cleared my throat, ready to squash this flirtation, when I felt that fucking prickle again.I glanced around, one hundred percent sure I could feel him. Atticus.
Get a grip. You need help.
I undoubtedly did need help.
"Earth to Gwen. Are you listening?"
I blinked rapidly. Shit. What had he been saying? "I'm sorry. I'm just a little distracted. I thought I saw someone I know."
He nodded. "You know a lot of people here?"
"Just Lance, really. He's my best friend. We both came from the New York office."
His face fell. "So you and Lakewood, huh?"
I blinked at him slowly. "What?"
"You and Lakewood, you're a thing? Or were? Is that why you're so… I don't know, distant?"
"Um, no. He's just my best friend. I've known him since college."
"Oh,” he said with a leering grin. “So he has the cheat codes to you?"
I'd chosen that moment to take a sip of my drink, and I nearly choked on it. "Um, no. There is no cheat code."
"I see you guys having lunch together sometimes, and I figured maybe he was making his play. I didn’t know you were mates. So if he's not competition, then there's room for me."
Oh, hell. "Except for the part where I said I wasn’t looking to date."
Suddenly, one of the waiters bumped Craig's chair, spilling red wine all over his shirt. The waiter apologized profusely, and I jumped up with my napkin. I had been drinking seltzer water, so I poured some into my napkin and tried to pat Craig's shirt.
