Chapter Twenty-Four
Roxy
A dark shadow passes over me while I’m seated at my desk doing some electronic filing for Edmund. I glance up into bright blue eyes slightly hidden behind a pair of glasses. “Hey, you.” Goosebumps pebble along my arms. Christian’s voice does things to me that are not safe for work, I swear.
“Hey. What brings you to these humble parts?” I joke.
His smile widens as he leans a hip against the side of my desk. “I wondered if you were free for lunch today.”
“Oh.” I shut my laptop and stand. “Sure.” Since he was busy with business lunches all last week, I’d thought maybe our shared lunch hour was a thing of the past.
“Well, then, wife, I’d like to take you out today.” He holds out his hand for me to accept. When I do, I send him a curious look.
"Where to?”
His smile grows. “It’s a surprise.”
Christian’s warm hand rests on my lower back as we squeeze past a couple people who he greets with a warm hello. Not for the first time, I’m in awe of how personable he is. “You seem to know everyone here by name.”
“Maybe not everyone,” he says, trying to hide his smirk. “But I do make it a point to try. It’s a little harder with the temps.”
“Fair enough.” The memory of when he asked me mine in the break room comes to mind. Even then, the man was saving me, determined to come to my rescue. I shouldn’t get used to it. But what romance reader doesn’t want a knight to come to her rescue every now and then?
Christian stops at the elevators and pushes the down button. “I’ve missed our lunches together.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice, enough to make me glance at him. His gentle eyes hold mine.
“Same.” I look away, overtaken by sudden shyness. Why is it so hard to expose my true feelings?
He slides his large hands into his pockets and leans closer. “Well. If you miss them, and I miss them, then...” He gives an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe we should resume.”
I twist my lips to fight back a giddy grin. “If you think so.”
The elevator dings, opening up to us. There’s already quite a few people inside, likely all headed to lunch too. Again, Christian’s hand finds my lower back as he guides me toward the small standing crowd. He puts his back to those behind us, giving me room at the front, then checks to make sure the ground floor button has been hit. The elevator lurches, and I nearly bump my forehead into the metal door in front of me.
"Easy there,” he croons, firmly pressing his hand into my stomach to keep me in place. My entire body goes rigid in response. We’re close. Way too close for a public elevator.
“Relax, Rox.” Chris’s breath tickles my neck and sends shivers through me. In an even lower whisper, he adds, “Just lean into me; I’ve got you.”
Someone must bump into Chris from behind because he tightens his hold until my back is flush against his front. It would be so easy to melt into him right now. To let my head fall back against him and close my eyes. I’ve never felt safer or more protected than I do right now.
Too soon, the elevator jerks to a stop and the doors open. We’re first to step out, the small crowd of people trailing behind us.
Chris lets out a deep exhale. “That was a tight squeeze.” He rubs the back of his neck with an almost nervous chuckle. Very off-brand for him. Was he as affected by our proximity as I was? Once we make it to his sports car, he helps me inside, shuts the door.
He’s uncharacteristically quiet on the way to wherever he’s taking me for lunch. I can’t help but wonder if he’s mentally replaying our closeness in the elevator like I am. It was probably all for show, though, right? Another juicy interaction between the boss and his wife to give the people at work something to talk about. Except it felt all too real for me.
“We’re here,” Chris says, parking alongside a busy street lined with shops. I take a peek at the surrounding buildings to guess where we are. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”
“Good,” he says with a disarming smile. “Then it’ll be my treat to surprise you. It’s just a short walk down the street.”
When he takes my hand to help me out of the car, he links his strong fingers with mine and leads me to my surprise. Maybe the constant physical contact is just in case someone we know sees us. Or maybe it’s a friendly gesture. Either way, I’m determined not to read into it. I mean, we’ve already kissed a few times. What’s holding hands for a short walk?
Before my thoughts have a chance to latch on to something more productive, we’re standing before a shop with a lit neon sign that reads Big Hair Books .
I turn to Chris, excitement bubbling up inside me. “A bookstore?”
“Not just any bookstore,” he says, pushing open the front door. “An indie bookstore slash cafe.”
A small gasp escapes me as I step into the establishment. “I had no idea this place even existed.”
“Neither did I until Chantelle told me about it. She’s good friends with the owner and has regular signings here.” Chris eyes the eighties records and music posters that line the walls as he stops beside me. “When she heard how much you love books, she insisted I bring you here.”
Gratefulness pours over me like a cleansing spring rain. Chantelle is like the friend I’ve always wanted but was never blessed to have. And Christian? He’s...well, he’s even better than a book boyfriend. Er—husband.
“Speaking of Chantelle,” he says before my brain has time to absorb all the place’s quirky details. “Jude invited us to a surprise birthday party for her next week.”
“Really?” Already I begin wondering what she’d like as a gift. A gift card to here, maybe?
“Yeah, it’ll be at Brokedown, her dad’s team’s favorite hangout. Wondered if we could go together?” The genuine hope in his eyes softens my heart toward him a little more.
“Of course. I’d love to.”
“Welcome!” a woman chimes from somewhere between the stacks, drawing our attention. “I’ll be right with you!”
Christian gestures toward the counter. “Want to peruse the menu a bit before we order?”
I amble toward the counter, taking in the short menu and trying to decide what sounds best, when a bright-eyed woman with even brighter hair pops into my line of vision. “Hi, there! Sorry for your wait. Our menu is limited right now as I’m still testing dishes out, but we do have a few lunch offerings.” She waves to the board on the wall behind her. “See anything you like?”
I bite my lip, scanning the menu again. “I think I’ll have the grilled vegetable panini?”
The woman grins and scribbles my order onto a tiny notepad next to the register. “Girl after my own heart. Are kettle-cooked chips okay with that?”
“Of course.” Chris orders next and when she rings up the total, I try to hand her my card, but he clocks the move with cash.
“I’ll bring your food out to you in a few minutes,” the woman says.
Once we find a seat, I half-jokingly whisper, “Are you ever going to let me pay for anything again?”
Chris’s expression alights with determination. “Not as long as you share my last name.”
A totally unbidden, but not entirely unwelcome, cascade of warmth sluices through me. Why does he always seem to have the perfect responses at the ready? Is this something they teach guys like him in billionaire school?
“Want to look at the books?” His blue eyes dance, almost as if he can’t contain his own excitement.
“Absolutely.”
Before long, we’re wandering down the aisles of the fiction section together, sharing whispered jokes and snickering like high school kids cutting up in a public library. I spy a familiar book and pluck if off the shelf. “This is one of my favorites.” I don’t even realize I’m sighing a bit dreamily as I flip through the pages, reliving my favorite parts, until Christian points it out.
“Should I give you two a moment, or...?”
I slap the book closed and bat him with it. “Don’t be jealous of a fictional duke, Chris. It’s not a good look.”
His lazy smile inches higher as he backs me against a stack, slowly, almost torturously. He raises one arm and braces it on the shelf behind me. “It’s hard not to be jealous when you’ve never once looked at me like you did that book.”
I blink up at him, stuttering for a response. “I—well, you’re...I mean, we’re not—”
He chuckles and backs away, taking his melt-me-where-I-stand scent with him. “Maybe if you read more billionaire romances, I’d actually stand a chance.” He turns toward the opposite shelf like he’s searching for a particular book.
I gape at his back. I can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. He’s openly flirting with me and there’s no one here to witness it. “Excuse me, sir,” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “I love run-of-the-mill billionaires just as much as eighteenth century dukes. As long as they have touch-her-and-die vibes, I’m down.”
He seems to ignore my defensive strategy as he slides a book from one of the lower shelves and holds it out to me. “Maybe try this one?”
I eye the book he chose. It’s a billionaire romance where the girl gets married to save her family’s farm. “I own that one.”
“But have you read it?” Christian waves it back and forth like a tease.
“Not yet, but—”
“Well, I have,” he says with a sinister smile. “And I’ve got to say, I think you might be wasting your time with dukes. Billionaires have a certain...almost realistic appeal, don’t you think?”
My breathing quickens as his smile climbs higher, teasing and implying things I wish it wouldn’t. Suddenly, he’s drifting closer, looking at me like I’m the answer to all his problems, and I swear I can feel my arms go numb. Is this what it feels like to have a stroke?
We stare at each other for so long I start to wonder what he’s thinking. But then the intensity in his eyes dies down and he backs off. “We’d better go see if our lunch is ready.” As he trails down the aisle toward the dining area, I’m left catching my breath.