Page 46 of Open for Negotiation
Chapter 9
Scarlett
“Eden, I’m going to throw up.” I adjust the Bluetooth earbud I’m wearing as I frantically clean my apartment. I’ve already scrubbed it from top to bottom, but I’m a nervous tidier.
“Why? What are you so scared of?”
“This is the first time he’ll be in my apartment. It’ll be the first time we’ve ever really been alone like this.”
“So my original question stands. Why are you so scared? It’s not like this is the first man you’ve ever had sleep over... right?”
I pull all of my books from my shelf and wipe down any remaining dust or smudges from the polished wood. “Of course not, you know that, but he’s different, Eden. I can’t explain it. He just makes me nervous.”
“How many times have you cleaned the same thing?”
“Shut it. Don’t call me out like that. If I wanted to be judged, I’d call my mother.” I carefully slide all of the books back into place then scramble into my bedroom to make sure all of my dirty laundry is shoved in the basket and placed behind the closed door of my closet.
“Scarlett, I need you to stop what you’re doing, sit your ass down somewhere, and listen to me, okay?”
I take a breath and sink to sit on the edge of my bed. “I’m listening.”
“You’re freaking out over nothing here. I know it’s nerve-wracking to have a man in your house, especially when that man is your older, incredibly attractive boss—”
I cut her off, “Not helping here, Eden.”
“However,” she emphasizes. “He clearly likes you. He’s obviously into you, and he’s a dude. He’s never going to notice if there is a little dust on your TV or that your bed is a little rumpled.”
I close my eyes and take a breath. She’s right. He’s coming over here to see me, to spend time with me, to just be with me.
“Okay, all right, I’m going to try to chill out a little. I need to shower soon. He’s supposed to be here in an hour.”
“That’s right, girl. Pluck those hairs, polish that pussy.”
I laugh, “You’re sick. Thank you for talking me off the ledge.”
“Any time. Be safe. Call me if you need anything, and I expect details tomorrow.”
“You’ll have them. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’m freshly showered and shaved, with my favorite coconut lotion smeared on my body, and my wild hair piled into a bun atop my head. I decided to just wear a pair of black yoga pants and a somewhat baggy white tee that I modified, stretching out the collar, so it hangs off one of my shoulders. As hard as it was for me to make the choice, I’ve gone sans makeup, opting for only a bit of tinted moisturizer on my face. I just want to be myself. No barriers. Just me.
I didn’t get to see Max before I left the office earlier today, so I think I’m more nervous than I really anticipated to see his face. He’s disarmingly attractive. A little taste earlier would have been helpful, would have helped me set the tone for myself.
I rummage through the kitchen and make sure that I have everything I need to make dinner for us tonight. I don’t know what possessed me into thinking that I was going to be able to successfully cook pasta carbonara, but here we are.
I make one final pass through the apartment, lighting a couple candles because I want the place to smell nice, and honestly, a lit candle just gives off the impression that your place is spick-and-span, in my opinion. I just want him comfortable and I want him to think I have my shit together, because I question that myself sometimes.
I am reading over the recipe for dinner on my phone again when his knock raps on the door, and I welcome the brand-new rush of anxiety into my body. It’s not like the man doesn’t know you or doesn’t know what you look like.He is here because he wants to be here, regardless of how anxious you are about the situation.
I continue my mental pep talk until I finally pull the door open to greet him, and his presence nearly knocks me off my feet and straight to my ass.
He’s wearing a plain, dark blue T-shirt that stretches perfectly across his broad chest and a pair of dark-washed jeans with crisp, white sneakers on his feet. He’s sporting that same scruffy chin that I want to feel leave its mark all over my body and a smile.
“Hi, beautiful,” he says, twirling his car keys in his hand.
“Hi,” I respond, then step to the side so he has room to cross the threshold. “Come on in.”
