“She’s the total package, you know? Beauty and brains—not to mention, that fucking smart little mouth of hers.” I practically drooled from just thinking about it.
“She is definitely all those things.” Barbara’s face lit up.
“Then, you understand why I can’t let her get away from me, not without seeing.”
“Seeing what?”
“Seeing if this could work. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try.”
“Did you even know she existed before the other night?”
I smiled. “I had no idea what I was missing before the other night.”
“Oh God, Daniel. Don’t mess this up.”
“I don’t plan on it, but I might need your help.”
I reached out to shake her hand, and she pulled me in for a quick hug.
“You got it.”
3.
ELIZABETH
Soft knocking interrupted my thoughts as the door creaked open. Barbara’s long dark hair spilled across the doorframe as her face peeked inside.
“You alive in there?” she asked, her eyes searching for me behind my desk before landing on the couch. “There you are. I’m coming in.”
I stayed quiet as she moved to sit next to me, plopping her feet up on the table before leaning back. “So,” she started, “he’s seriously good-looking.”
“I’m aware,” I breathed out.
“I think he likes you, like really likes you.” Her head turned to face me, so I could look her in the eyes.
“He doesn’t even know me. You can’t like someone you don’t know.”
She huffed, “Fine. Then, I think he’s interested in you, really interested in you.”
“I don’t care,” I lied.
“Elizabeth.” She paused. “I think your hoo-ha has been closed for business for way too long. It’s officially killed you. If you weren’t turned-on by that man who was just in your office, then you are officially dead inside. Death by vagina neglect. We should probably have a funeral.”
I laughed and covered my face with my hands. “How do you come up with these things? My hoo-ha? Is that what they call it in the dirty South?”
“I didn’t know what else to call it!”
She laughed out loud, and I giggled beside her.
“I’m not dead inside, trust me. That man has made me far too aware of how undead my lady parts are—not to mention, how badly they want him,” I admitted with conflict in my voice.
“So then”—she looked up at me and batted her eyelashes like a love-struck teenager—“what are you gonna do about it?”
“Ignore it, and hope it goes away?” I batted my lashes back at her to show her how ridiculous she looked.
Her mouth fell open. “You absolutely will not.” She sounded horrified.
“You’re not the boss of me.”