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She sits in O’Reilly’s like the place is ready to bite her, or give her some kind of infection, or the poor gene, as she once actually called not having money.
Honestly, if I didn’t love her, I’m not sure we’d be friends.
And I’m going to have to tell her. Especially since she’s asked about Magnus about ten times in the last hour.
It’s starting to get a little rowdy in here, so I take a deep breath and say, “I think I’m going to fire him.”
She blinks like I suggested burning down a roomful of the New Yorker, her favorite magazine. “But he’s gorgeous.”
“I know.”
“You have lost your mind, woman.”
I can feel my cheeks heat and her eyes narrow. I slurp my drink down and go to get another when her hand wraps, vice-like, around my wrist. And some band throbs out a song about love and booze and broken hearts over the top of the crowd.
“Oh. My. God.”
I point to the ceiling. “What? I can’t hear you. Mr. O’Reilly’s playing his music too loud.”
“You…” Now her eyes go wide. “Did you sleep with him?”
Anything I want to do with Magnus Simpson and that hard rock body and onyx eyes has nothing to do with sleep. “We kissed.”
“Zoey! Are you firing him to have your wicked way? Because if you are, just keep him. Office affairs are all the rage.”
“They are not.” I breathe out, snatch back my wrist, and take a sip of the dregs of Jack and Coke and icy water. It’s not very nice. “And no. I just…”
She pats a hand over my head, like I’m a pathetic stray. “Listen to me. He’s not that idiot from school who crushed your heart.”
“Bronn did not crush my heart.”
“Your confidence, then. You can have a man and work with him and a business. Modern women sometimes have lovers all over the place.”
Suzanna makes it sound like they grow on trees.
“I…” I slump down. “I’m worried I’m going to jump him. He’s so…”
“Hot. Like melt your panties off as if they’re ice cream on a hot New York pavement on a hundred and twenty summer day.”
“I was going to say lovely, but he’s got a sick gran and…also…I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes.”
“And you said he needs the money!”
She’s got me. And I am scared. What if he’s like Bronn? What if he hurts me? Which is stupid because though I don’t know him, he’s been nothing but sweet and nice, with little bits of spice that keep him really interesting. “I know.”
“Did you kiss him or did he kiss you?”
“Which time?”
She gasps, looking utterly delighted, and claps her hands. “It was him.”
“Look at me, and look at him.”
“I’mma looking, girl, and I think he has good taste. You’re no glamor queen, but you have substance. We could go do your hair, if you like, spruce up your wardrobe—”
“I thought you said he had good taste.”
Suzanna’s able to turn a maybe insult on a dime. “I did. I was just saying if you’re worried, we can do that. But he likes you. It’s a store. It doesn’t matter.”
