I stand. “Most people wouldn’t say that to their boss. Let’s go.”
She follows me out the door.
“And most bosses wouldn’t follow their freaking assistants around on dates.”
“I need to know your thoughts on the airline campaign.”
She surveys the parking lot and pokes me in the chest. “You’re such a bad liar. I was at work the whole day and you didn’t ask once. You had hours to pick my brain. You don’t give a shit what I think about that campaign, you just want—never mind.”
I don’t say a word because she’s got my number.
She turns to me slowly with a pained look. “Let’s get something straight right now. I do your filing, make your phone calls, check your emails, and execute your contracts. I bring you coffee, clothes, and whatever the hell else you need during business hours. No part of that gives you control over my love life.”
“I did you a favor with that boy. He almost shit his pants when he saw me. He ran off without his coffee. Who takes a girl to a coffee shop on a first date anyhow?” I bring the regular cinnamon latte to my mouth, take a big gulp, and instantly spit it out on the pavement, where it steams in the winter air. “My God. Now I get why you spit on me—it’s sugar milk. How do you drink this stuff?”
She laughs, puffy white wisps of dragon smoke curling out of her mouth.
“Does that mean I can have it? It’s the least you can do.”
“Will you still be mad at me?” I grumble, holding the drink out of her reach.
“Yes, but I might not kick you.”
“Kick me, and I’ll fire you on the spot.”
She holds out her gloved hand, and I slide the cup in it.
“Firing me will punish you, not me,” she says, taking a longish sip.
Damn, she’s figured too much out.
I’m screwed.
When we reach the car, I open the door. “Get in.”
“You win this one, I guess. My date didn’t hold my door open either,” she says, sliding in.
I get in behind her and shut the door.
“You’re a lucky woman. If I hadn’t shown up, you could’ve died from boredom.” I pass Armstrong his drink as the privacy screen goes down.
“So if coffee shops aren’t first date material, where would you take a girl?” she asks, chugging her latte like it’s beer.
I look at Armstrong with a raised eyebrow. He puts the screen back up.
“Somewhere nice. An exotic restaurant with an unpronounceable menu. I’d share my tastes in refined food beyond Taco Colita. I can’t see how a bad cup of coffee convinces any girl to see a man again.”
“Newsflash: You’re supposed to convince her. Not the coffee or food so expensive you’d scare any normal gal.”
“Adventure is priceless,” I say. “And without adventure, love hits a brick wall.”
She snorts. “If you paid thirty-seven dollars for bite-sized appetizers and raw fish, and I had to make a burger run afterward, I’d so drop you.”
I chuckle. “I’d order for you like a gentleman, and pay the head chef for his very best. You wouldn’t need fast food, believe me.”
“God, you’re undateable. Do you know how many women hate it when guys order for them?”
“I don’t order for girls, Sabrina. I said I’d order for you—key difference—because you don’t do a good job of ordering for yourself.”
She purses her lips and settles back in the seat.
“You can’t even deny it,” I say, feeling a smirk digging at my face.
“Tell me this. Why do you feel this insane need to go somewhere expensive on a first date?” she asks. “It’s nothing but pressure.”
“Hm. No one’s ever asked before.” I shrug. “It’s the experience that counts, and money often buys experience.”
“You’re dating the wrong women, Mag,” she says, rolling those chocolate silk eyes.
Not possible.
Frankly, I can’t remember the last time I dated anyone.
Soon, Armstrong pulls up to Brina’s apartment.
“That was a quick ride,” I say, sliding out so I can hold the door open for her. “I’ll walk you up.”
I know Wolf Boy wouldn’t have purely from the goodness of his heart.
She shifts the keys back and forth between her hands as we stand in front of her building’s main door. “I’m not thanking you for the ride after you interrupted my date, but...it could’ve been worse. I guess.”
Yeah.
I could’ve stolen you away and found somewhere dark to kiss until you moaned my name.
“It’s cold,” she says. “I’m going in.”
“Since I’m here, we might as well talk about your ideas for the airline project. The creative pitch with Hugo isn’t far off.”
She rolls her eyes. “Cool. Because there’s nothing I’d rather do on a Friday night.”
“Well, someone slipped out at four to go on a bad date. We’re usually still at the office right now.”
“Come on,” she says with a sigh.
An invitation. I’m shocked.