Boyfriend for Hire

Nine

ElleI glance at my phone, checking for any texts.

Nothing. I let out a huff and turn back to my laptop.

I’m trying to focus on work, and it’s not going very well. The lawyer I work for just landed a big client and has assigned me a ton of research for the case. Not that I’m complaining; I’m happy for anything that can distract me from the total morti- fication I’ve been wallowing in after this weekend.

Standing up from my desk, I stretch, hoping that a quick break will help me refocus on the piles of documents in front of me.

My head still feels fuzzy from this weekend. I can’t believe what was supposed to be my carefree, casual hookup ended with me throwing up for an hour. I don’t know what got into me; I can’t even

remember the last time I drank that much. I blame it on my attraction to Nic. I got caught up in the rush of being with him, and just lost control of my- self.

God, I wonder what Nic must think about me.

We’re way too old to be getting that sloppy. He probably thinks I’m a hot mess and never wants to see me again. I haven’t heard from him since that night, and I was too ashamed to reach out to him yesterday. I know I need to apologize if I want any chance of things being okay between us, so I de- cide to send him a text.

Biting my lip, I pull out my phone.

Are you free to meet for coffee this week?

After pressing SEND, I squeeze my eyes closed, then put the phone facedown. I need to fo- cus on work, and staring at my phone won’t make him respond any faster.

After a few minutes, I can’t resist anymore and check my messages. To my surprise, Nic has al- ready responded.

I pull up the text, preparing myself for rejec-

tion.

Sure, what day are you free?

I let out a sigh of relief. After exchanging a few texts, we decide to meet Thursday afternoon since my boss will be out of the office for the day, and I want to keep this meeting casual, not like a date. I’m already feeling a huge weight lift off of me.

I should have known he wouldn’t hold a grudge over this. He’s not like most of the other guys I’ve dated who would be pissed at me for giving them blue balls. I smile to myself as I get back to my research, finally ready to dive into my huge work- load.

It seems like the more I learn about Nic, the more amazing he is. I just hope it’s not too late to salvage our connection from this past weekend.

Frustrated, I stare into my closet. I’ve tried on about fifteen different outfits, and none of them seem right. I need an outfit that says I’m put to- gether, and not a hot mess. Something that also says I’m interested in more. It might be just a quick

mid-afternoon coffee date, but I still want to look good and yet not break the dress code at work. Fi- nally, I settle on casual black skinny jeans and a pink blouse.

It’s ridiculous to be this nervous . . . it’s not like Nic has never seen me before. But I still haven’t officially apologized for last weekend, and I’m not sure how he’ll react. It’s possible that after seeing me as a drunk, crying mess bent over a toilet while I’m dry heaving, he just wants to be friends, but I hope that’s not the case.

As I slip out of the office that afternoon and drive to the café, I plan what I’m going to say. I just want to make sure he knows I usually act like a re- sponsible, trustworthy adult and not a teenage so- rority girl. My nerves kick in as I walk in and pick a table. I’m first, so I order a latte and settle into my seat, trying not to stare at the door as I wait. I’m scrolling through social media, hoping to distract myself, when the door opens and Nic walks in.

I have to take a deep breath because it feels like all the air just left the room. Nic looks as gorgeous as ever in jeans and a black T-shirt.

When he sees me, he smiles, and my heart swells. How does he look just as good in casual clothes as he does in a suit?

I stand to give him a quick hug, and when our bodies touch, heat shoots through me and straight between my legs. I swallow, wondering if he can tell what I’m thinking. I didn’t expect to still have such a strong reaction to him, but he looks so good, I’m ready to forget the coffee and go back to my place for a do-over.

“It’s good to see you again,” he says as we pull back from the hug. His lips are turned up in a half smile, and his eyes are alight with playful satisfac- tion at seeing me.

Relief floods through me, and I grin up at him.

“You too,” I manage to say, still smiling.

I try not to stare as he orders at the counter, and I’m not the only one. Women all around the café are looking at him. And who can blame them when he looks like he just walked off the pages of GQ?

He’s barely back at the table when I launch into my apology.

“So, look, about the other night,” I say, fidget- ing with my cup. “I’m really sorry. I never, ever get that drunk.”

Nic holds up a hand and smiles. “There’s no need to apologize. Like I said, it happens to ev- eryone.” He takes a sip of his coffee, then smiles

warmly at me. “Trust me, I’ve been there more times than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you know I don’t usu- ally take guys home and immediately start throw- ing up.” I grin back at him, so blown away by how open and forgiving he is that I can’t keep the smile off my face. Or maybe it’s just that it’s so nice to see him again.

“It wasn’t my typical experience with a wom- an,” he says, smirking. “But that’s what I like about you. I never know what to expect.”

We laugh, and I do an internal happy dance. I’m so relieved we can still joke around with each other.

“How’s work going?” I ask, grateful that we can move on to normal conversation. “I know you’re probably really busy, so thanks for meeting me.”

I can’t figure out why he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt rather than a suit. I know he works in fi- nance and it’s not yet quitting time on a Thursday. Then I think that maybe his firm is really casual, less stuffy than the norm like ours is. Maybe it’s one of those internet startups run by a twenty-two- year-old or something.

“Work is fine,” he says.

I get the sense again that he doesn’t want to dis- cuss work, so I don’t ask any more questions. He’s being so sweet that my heart is skipping. I’ve never dated a guy like this, someone who is so thought- ful and forgiving all the time. It’s refreshing, and I could definitely get used to it.

“How’s paralegal life?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Have you signed up to take the bar yet?”

“It’s busy,” I say, filling him in on the big new client we signed. “And no bar exam yet. But I’ll get there. Hopefully someday.”

Being around Nic really does make me feel like anything is possible. And with my new go-for-it at- titude, I actually might sign up to take test.

“Well, whenever you do take it, I know you’re going to ace it,” he says. “After knowing you for five minutes, I could already tell how smart and driven you are. You probably have a much higher IQ than most of the lawyers at your firm, and most of the women I’ve dated, for that matter.”

I chuckle at his compliment, shaking my head. “And how many women is that?” I ask playfully, raising an eyebrow.

His face falls for a second, and I mentally slap myself. Why did I even say that?

“I’m totally joking,” I say quickly, trying to re- cover. “Your love life is none of my business.”

I smile, trying to reassure him. I don’t want to let on that Christine told me about his playboy past, but I’m afraid I just made it obvious. Maybe it’s something he’s touchy about, or maybe he just doesn’t like to share so many personal details. Ei- ther way, I can tell I struck a chord.

His expression goes back to neutral. “I can say that honestly, none of them compare to you.” He looks at me with the same intensity from Saturday night, his eyes searching mine. “Not even close.”

I shake my head. “Are your pickup lines al- ways this bad?”

Nic laughs, and God, do I love the sound of that. It’s deep and rich and genuine. “Probably. But most girls don’t call me out on them.”

He looks at me then . . . really looks at me, like

he’s seeing me for the first time. My belly flips.

I stare back into his eyes, lost in the moment. My heart is pounding, and I want to reach across the table and pull him against me.

Finally, I break eye contact with him and look away. I almost forgot we were in a public place. Taking a sip of my latte, I try not to think about all the things I wish we had done on Saturday night.

“So, how’s Christine enjoying married life?” he asks, saving me from my thoughts.

“They’re on their honeymoon in Hawaii right now. She just sent me pictures of them hiking near a volcano.” I pull out my phone to show him the photos.

“They seem really happy,” he says, smiling. “Good for them.”

“You sound surprised,” I say, raising an eye- brow. “Are you one of those guys who thinks mar- riage is a scam?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m looking forward to domestic life, actually. Two kids, maybe a couple of dogs.”

I grin at him. “White picket fence?” “Exactly,” he says, laughing.

It’s all too easy for me to picture myself cud- dling up with Nic in a cute house in the suburbs.

Jesus, Elle, slow down.

I’m usually not like this when I first meet a guy, but something about Nic is so enticing—hell, so comfortable—that I can’t help but imagine what a future with him would be like.

“So, tell me more about this dream of yours,” I say. “Building custom homes. When exactly are you going to start your business?”

He sighs. “We’ll see. It’s a pretty big undertak- ing.”

I nod. “How about a pact? If I take the bar exam, you have to start your business.”

He takes a breath. “That’s a pretty serious com- mitment.” He watches me for a moment before holding out a hand. “Deal.”

We shake hands on it, and I ask him more about his plans for the business. The more he tells me, the more I can tell how passionate he is about this.

It’s so easy to be around him, joking and talk- ing about our futures, that I don’t even realize how much time has passed until a barista comes to our table and asks if we’d like another round.

“Oh my God, has it really been an hour?” Look- ing up from my watch, I frown. “I have some work to catch up on before tomorrow.”

I don’t want to leave, but I know I have to get home to my laptop so I can finish the work I missed this afternoon. As much as I’d like to keep spend- ing time with Nic, I can’t just blow off my respon- sibilities. He nods, looking disappointed.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he says, stand- ing.

Outside is a perfect fall day. The sun is dip- ping toward the horizon, and there’s a cool breeze in the air. The leaves have all changed to bright oranges and reds, and they crunch under our feet as we walk through the parking lot.

“This was really fun,” I say once we get to my car, turning to face Nic. “Thanks for being so un- derstanding about this weekend.”

“You really need to stop worrying about that,” he says. “But it’s cute that you were so nervous.”

I slap his arm playfully, grinning. “I wasn’t ner- vous.”

He smiles at me, and when our eyes meet, he takes a step closer, his dark eyes latching onto mine. Then he lifts my chin with his fingers before gently pressing his lips to mine. I lean in, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he puts an arm around my waist, pulling me in closer.

I close my eyes, giving in to the feel of his body pressing against mine. He’s kissing me softly, and the moment is so sweet, I want it to last forever.

My stomach flips as he trails his fingers along my lower back, and I grip the back of his head with my hand. When he pulls back, I want to reach for him again, but I force myself to take a step back.

I realize I want Nic to know how I’m feeling. Usually, I’m too afraid to discuss my emotions with a guy I don’t know very well, but I’m trying to be brave, and it’s now or never. I take a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re looking for anything serious right now, and it’s totally fine if you’re not, but I have fun when I’m with you.” I say it quickly, before I lose my nerve. I watch Nic, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I agree, I like being with you. Should we see where it goes?” His expression is relaxed, hap- py, his mouth quirking up in a half smile as he says this.

My face breaks into a grin, and I feel like jump- ing in the air and cheering. Instead, I give him a tight nod.

As I drive home and then make myself an early dinner, I’m practically giddy. Once I’ve eaten and before I get to work, I decide to text Christine.

Tell me everything you know about Nic.

Since Nic and I didn’t have sex, I technically kept my promise to Christine from Saturday night. If she asks, I won’t even have to lie.

Besides, I need to know more about him before this goes any further, because after today, I’m de- termined to get Nic in bed to finish what we started.