Chapter 25
25
Everyone obviously quiets their previous conversation and stares at me with wide eyes when I enter the break room. It’s crickets—of a different sort. I haven’t even opened my mouth, let alone tried to tell a joke.
“What’s up?” I ask as casually as possible. My heart rate increases as a sickening heat washes over me. I hate being stared at.
“Have you…” Kevin finally blurts, “Noticed anything weird about Pete today?”
No, but then again, I arrived at work this morning to find the first batch of security logs in my inbox. I’ve been busy putting them through a pattern-recognition software that I developed in graduate school.
“Weird, how?” I ask as I refill my mug.
Peter and I stayed up way past our bedtimes, talking about everything and nothing at once. Gentle, oral orgasms were exchanged, but it was listening to stories about his childhood that make me smile the most today. I learned many new things last night.
I love learning .
“He’s whistling again,” Joel leans forward to hiss at me.
“You say this like it’s a bad thing. I thought you were all proponents of him being in a better mood?”
I leave off the via getting laid route. If I say anything about that, I’ll give myself—and our covert relationship—away.
As it turns out, I don’t have to say anything at all.
Oscar nods sagely. “Oh, he definitely got laid again last night, but that’s not the weird part.”
In spite of my exhaustion—and trepidation—I’m intrigued. I take a seat at the table and stare at them expectantly as I sip my liquid wakefulness.
“I saw him sitting in his office, just gazing at his phone with a goofy smile on his face,” Oscar confides in a hushed whisper.
That is actually weird. I also can’t think of a single time that I’ve seen Peter smile…goofily.
“You think that’s bad?” Finley shakes his head. “I saw Maeve in his office this morning. Seemed like she was trying to convince him to go on a date again. He didn’t beat around the bush; didn’t let her down gently. Patently said he’s not available to date anyone.”
I perk up considerably at this revelation. Emotions are the worst. Hearing that Peter’s informing other women that he’s off the market makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Despite that, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still beating around the bush. Still being dishonest.
“I still don’t see why that’s a bad thing,” I say to them as calmly as possible.
“Well, for one,” Kevin whispers. “What changed between then and now with his girlfriend we all assumed was a frigid shrew?”
I pretend to think about this though his words send my stomach plummeting further. “Could it be that he broke up with the previous girlfriend and is much happier with the new one? ”
It’s sort of a rhetorical question.
They exchange surprised glances as though the thought never occurred to them.
“Could be,” Kevin hedges.
“There you have it then.” I rise from my seat, eager to see what my software has turned up. Nothing can change if I don’t perform my job. “Case closed.”
“Now we can focus on fixing your love life.” Finley grins at me.
“What?” I sputter and choke and cough since I damnably had a mouthful of coffee when I was verbally ambushed. “No, no. That’s not necessary.”
They smile at me like a band of circus clowns. It’s scary how wide and identical their grins are. Far, far more terrifying than when they stare at me after I’ve told a joke that doesn’t make them laugh.
I guess it’s because I’m used to the latter. I’ve had precious few offers from anyone to fix my so-called love life. The longer I consider this fact, the more warm, fuzzy emotions balloon inside my chest. I’m truly touched that they care.
“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t require assistance in obtaining a romantic relationship.” A grin slices through my morose mood as a new, even better idea occurs to me. “If any of you would like my help with your love lives though, I am more than willing to be your wingwoman, as it were.”
They stare silently at me as if I’ve just told another joke.
“No?” I guess. “You also do not require assistance?”
Oscar plasters his hand over his chest as he continues to gaze at me. “You would do that? For any of us?”
“Of course,” I hedge, uncertain it’s the response they want to hear. “That’s what friends do for each other, isn’t it?”
The moment the words leave my lips, I wish I could take them back .
Even now, my plans for the afternoon are to discover which one of them is a traitor. How is that being a good friend?
And yet…I must do what I must do.
I reviled Peter for his lies in the past. Now, I have become the liar.
I glance down quickly, half expecting my pants to catch fire.
They do not.
What I need is a distraction from my myriad emotions. Something that will hopefully be fun for everyone—even though I will eventually inflict pain on one of these men.
“Actually, can I ask you a question?”
They nod eagerly, but I do not get the chance to carry out my dastardly plans because Peter chooses this moment to waltz into the breakroom.
He points at me and says a single word that sounds more like a dog’s bark. “No!”
“How could you possibly know what I was going to ask?” I say, a terrible liar even now.
“Because I know the way your brain works,” he insists. “Don’t you dare survey them. You promised.”
As it turns out, pouting is also a good distraction.
Unfortunately, Peter has just proverbially dangled a carrot in front of donkeys.
“What were you going to ask us?” Joel leans forward in his seat, more interested now than he was moments ago.
Peter stares pointedly at me while he shakes his head.
“I…” I still really want to know.
“If you do this, I’ll be forced to tell everyone why your nickname is Eli.”
“No.” My cheeks heat. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Oscar grins. “Why is Eli your nickname?”
“I’ve been wondering about that,” Finley admits, stroking his chin to prove that he has, indeed, been wondering about it. “Eli is traditionally a man’s name. If it was just a shortened version of Elise, then wouldn’t El be more appropriate?”
Peter grins at me. The devil. A very, very handsome devil.
“Fine!” I make jazz hands at him. “I won’t ask my questions, and you’ll never tell anyone that stupid story!”
He extends his open palm toward me. “Pleasure doing business with you, Dr. Fowler.”
The simple handshake is meant to seal the deal, but the unmistakable way his thumb caresses my skin makes me think of foreplay rather than conceding in defeat.
He winks at me as he releases me from his clasp.
“You see!” Joel yelps, rising so quickly that his chair falls behind him. He points at Peter. “That is just weird!”
“I apologize for earlier this afternoon,” Peter murmurs. His words are contrite, but his expression is content. “I think I almost blew our cover in the break room.”
I chuckle as I remember the little interlude. I’ve been turned on for hours. “It wasn’t the handshake or the wink.”
“No?” He reaches across the table for my hand.
We’re back in the same location as our nearly disastrous first dinner in this fancy restaurant. The mood, however, is entirely different.
I grasp onto his warm palm, eager for more of the swipe of his thumb against my sensitive skin to distract me from my unpleasant suspicions. “No. It’s all the whistling around the office, and you blatantly telling our coworkers that you’re unavailable.”
He pulls away and frowns at his plate. “Maeve’s been relentless since the Paramus office opened. No matter how many times I turn her down, she doesn’t give up. ”
“Why didn’t you ever tell her you were off-limits before?” I question as I inhale another breadstick. There’s just something about buttery, garlicky carbs that make difficult conversations so much easier to navigate.
He offers me a pointed glance. “Because it wasn’t true. You dumped me, remember?”
Oh, I remember.
“I’m sorry,” I insist. I don’t utter those words often, but I also don’t say them unless I mean them. “I can’t change our past but, going forward, I will talk to you instead of running like a coward.”
Peter’s gaze softens as he smirks at me. “And I promise you the same.”
Though we’ve shared precious few dates in our poverty-ridden past, I’m inclined to suggest we skip dinner in favor of going back to my place. I want to make good on all these promises to each other.
“Eli! Pete!”
We startle at the unexpected intrusion.
Joel, Oscar, Finley, and Kevin stand in a huddled group by our table. Again, wearing those matching, circus clown grins.
Peter recovers from the shock first. “Hey, guys. What are you doing here?”
“We have a standing monthly dude date.” Oscar shrugs like this is the most natural setup in the history of humanity.
Finley adds, “It’s not like anyone else is lining up to romance us.”
I glance at all of them in turn, suspicion likely evident in my expression. I am not adept at poker. “And you choose one of the most expensive, exclusive restaurants in the area to soothe your poor self-esteem?”
“Yeah.” Kevin stares at me like I’m the circus clown. “We make bank now. We don’t have anyone to spend it on. Why wouldn’t we spoil ourselves?”
Peter clears his throat to regain their attention. “Why do you say people aren’t lining up to romance you like it’s obvious?”
Oscar gestures at their little group. “Because it is obvious. We’re nerds. None of us are built like you. People aren’t exactly beating down our doors.”
“Or chatting us up at the bar on Wednesday nights,” Kevin adds.
Oh, no. Now, I feel more emotions. Their romantic plights tug on my illogical heartstrings.
“Do you want to sit with us?” I offer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peter shake his head subtly.
“Nah.” Joel waves away my suggestion. “Like we said, standing reservation. We have a table already.”
“Do you want to sit with us ?” Kevin asks me with a grin.
Peter answers before I get the chance. “I see no reason to make the servers rearrange the seating when we already all have tables.”
“Riiiiiight,” Oscar drags out, still smiling. “Because this isn’t a bar & grill. It’s an intimate setting.”
“Yes.” Peter adjusts the tie that he’d loosened as soon as we sat down earlier. “I’m glad you understand.”
“Oh, we understand all right.” Kevin grins impossibly wider.
Finley appears to be the only thoughtful trespasser. He directs his question at me, alone. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit with us? Having dinner with the boss to complete your performance review seems like a shitty way to spend a Friday night.”
“Performance review?” I parrot on autopilot.
“Yes,” Peter interrupts harshly. “Because your probationary period is over, and we didn’t have time to complete your review yet.”
Oh. Right. Right. A performance review is an excellent cover for our dinner date. I nod accordingly though I’ve thoroughly lost my appetite. “Thank you for your concern, but we’re finishing the review outside of work hours at my insistence.”
I deliver this white lie confidently because it’s not entirely a lie. We really didn’t finish my performance review.
“Okay,” Finley accepts easily. “Good luck. For what it’s worth, we all think you’ve been a great asset to the team so far.”
The group nods in agreement before departing to their waiting table.
Peter scoffs as soon as they’re out of earshot. “They forgot you worked here for nearly a month when you were hiding in your office.”
I glance toward where they’re being seated at a table for four in the mostly empty restaurant. I’d also forgotten about that nebulous time after I was first hired. “You make a valid point. I don’t think they have a standing dinner date at all. I think they were trying to catch us with our proverbial pants down.”
“You don’t have a low EQ.” Peter frowns before taking a healthy sip of his wine. “Besides, they’re not wrong. We’re definitely going to spend the rest of the weekend with our pants down.”
I wish I could be exceptionally eager for a different sort of performance review, but I can’t quite ignore the whispers in the back of my mind that insist I’ve allowed myself to fall into the same trap as before.
I shake my head to clear those thoughts. We both agreed that sex is the only option we have.
Why does it feel so much worse knowing the truth this time?