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Not that she’s been around for people to be able to say anything to her. Most of the time, I can’t even find the woman.
“At your place,” I tell him, flicking my gaze back to assess him.
“Are you hiding me, Eloise?”
“Please stop saying my name.”It sounds like a sin.I sigh before I continue. “And you know I am.”
“You would hide the generous benefactor?—”
“We discussed the terms, and you agreed to them.” My response is resolute, and I look him in the eyes as I say it.
“Can we be trusted alone in my home?” he asks, and flashes of our heated kiss on his dining table assault me. Still, I try to pretend it never happened.
“I don’t see why not,” I mutter, frowning.
His chuckle has me rolling my eyes before leaning down to grab a box. In my peripheral, I see Ezra move toward me.
“If you try to help me, I will bite you,” I warn him, sick of men and their misplaced concern.
He barks out a laugh that fills the space around us, and I turn in time to catch his features while enraptured in his enjoyment.
Ezra really is a beautiful man. It’s unfair, how long his lashes are, how perfectly plump his lips are, how his suits fit him as though they were made for him.
They likely are.
I set the box on the counter next to the one Ben placed there and rip at the top, folding the flaps back and pausing at the sight of the books.
A good cover always deserves a moment of admiration.
“I like you, you know,” he says, interrupting my examination, ruining my peace.
Did he really…
My eyes squint in disbelief before I look up at him, giving him a good hard stare. “What did you just say?”
“I told you that I like you,” he tells me, shrugging. Like he isn’t wearing a suit that likely costs more than what I make in a month, standing in my dusty bookstore that he financially backed like that amount of money just sits in his bank account for no good reason.
Like he didn’t just confess to something I have no room in my life to tackle.
“Are we children, Mr. James?” It’s all I can muster at his proclamation.
“You ignore me like one.”
I clasp my hands in front of my chest, as if I’m about to pray. And if I am, it’s for patience. So that I don’t physically harm the man in front of me.
“Okay, okay.” He runs his hands over his suit jacket, and I try to overlook the fact that I remember what his chest felt like against mine. “Let’s try to play nice. May I take you to lunch, Eloise?”
I want to chastise him for using my name again but I’m too tired to be difficult anymore. The morning is suddenly looking more and more daunting to me.
“Sure,” I tell him, hoping to cut the exchange short. “I’ll meet you at your house at noon.”
When I start pulling books from the box, he doesn’t move.
“Anything else?” I ask, holding a stack of books against my chest.
“A confession.” He watches me set the books down, then comes behind the counter to grab more from the box, stacking the others on top of it. I worry he’s going to ruin his suit, but he doesn’t seem to care, so why should I?
When he straightens, adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket, I speak.
