“She is.”
“Business or pleasure?” His forehead crinkles adorably, but I feel no zings of attraction to him the way I do to my boss and best friend. Sandy is a cute guy. From his high cheekbones to a nice build suggesting he hits the gym at Grand Marin on the regular, there’s plenty to admire. But at five years younger than me, he reminds me too much of my younger brother Manuel for me to find him truly hot. Though Manuel is more like my kid than my kid brother, given I’ve been raising him and my other two brothers since I was eighteen.
Long story.
“Pleasure,” I answer. “I have a date tonight. I’m in need of duds.” I gesture to my basic black dress and flats.
“Say no more. Please.” He makes a face and the two days’ worth of scruff shifts on his jaw. “I’ll listen to you talk business with me all day,” he says, already en route to Viv’s office door, “but I can’t talk about clothes.”
He fakes falling asleep as his knuckles rap on the door, and I chuckle under my breath. Viv looks up from her desk through the glass—there’s virtually no privacy in this office, save for the tinted windows in the conference room—and waves us in.
“Your date is here,” Sandy announces. “She’s cherubic, cute, and too good for the likes of me. I trust you two will be very happy together.”
“Thanks, Sandy,” Viv says with a laugh. He rushes back to his post to pick up the ringing phone. “I really like him.”
“Told you.” I buff my nails on my dress. I was the one who suggested Sandy work for Vivian instead of Owen Construction proper. His resume had hit Benji’s inbox as Vivian was saddling up for her new position and was worried she’d never find good help.
“You ready to do this?” She stands and rubs her hands together. Her slimming plum skirt is fitted, her silk blouse a paler shade of purple bedazzled with winking rhinestone buttons. She’s both professional and beautiful. I glance down at my plain dress and feel a stab of envy. I stepped it up today—I typically wear jeans to work—and I still can’t touch Viv’s fabulous style. Don’t get me wrong, my clothes match, but I’m not winning any awards for costume design. Which is exactly why I called her.
“I’m as ready as I can be,” I tell her as we exit the office. I wave goodbye to Sandy upon my retreat.
“I’ve chosen three boutiques to check out.” We take the stairs, her incredibly tall high-heeled shoes ticking each step. I’d break my neck if I attempted stairs in shoes like hers. “Two of them are here, the other right up the road.”
“I’m in your capable hands.”
“It’s not going to hurt to go on a date. A few dates,” she says as if I’d argued instead. She flips her dark brown hair over her shoulders and slips a pair of sunglasses onto her nose, hiding chocolate brown eyes a few shades darker than Benji’s. “If anything, maybe Benji will voice an opinion about who his life assistant coach is dating. And wouldn’t that be fun to hear?”
He’d have to notice me as a being with two X chromosomes to comment. Which would be different, but I don’t know if it’d be fun.
She spares me a grin as sunlight hits her hair and highlights the delicate freckles on her cheeks. You’d never know it now, but she was cagey and nervous after being outed as Walter Steele’s daughter last year. Yes, that Walter Steele. She’s not a criminal like her deceased father, but I could understand why she was worried about what others would think. Who among us isn’t?
“Benji wouldn’t notice what I was doing if I was doing it on his desk while he was typing up an email.” I snort. The truth is always funny.
“We’ll see,” she promises. “We’ll find you the perfect date ensemble and then grab lunch and martinis. I can have you back to your office by, oh, say six o’clock?”
“No can do.” I turn her down with regret in my heart. Martinis and lunch sound amazing. “I promised Benji we’d jog at five. As his coach, part of my job is to keep him fit for his myriad girlfriends.”
She hums, no longer looking pleased. “Who is she this time? Blonde? Redhead? Brunette?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I frown as that fact hits me square in the solar plexus. Since I’ve worked for him, Benji has had a revolving door of dates on call. Last year he was in a semi-serious relationship with a tall, leggy blonde named Trish. She was smart and nice, which sucked because I really wanted to hate her. Vivian met her and agreed we couldn’t hate her. She also agreed that not being able to hate Trish was a bummer.
“Well, who cares.” Viv waves a hand. “Time to move on. Or at least sideways. Take it from me, Cris, life has a way of working out the way it’s supposed to. Especially when you least expect it.”
Easy for her to say, I think without animosity. Vivian and Nathaniel are in love, and it’s adorable and beautiful and enviable. As a closet romantic (though I came out to Vivian), I watch them together and internally swoon. I want that someday. Not with Nate, obviously, but with someone.
Time to go into the big, bad world and find him.