Suddenly, I remembered what Spencer had said last week."Why are you trying to untangle from her? Get tangled."
Why am I?I thought with a slowly dawning realization that threatened to burn through me like the rising sun.Why am I trying so hard to get away from her?
Thoughts of Gemmatangledsuddenly flooded my thoughts. The dam of possibilities had burst, and I was immediately swept up in images of Gemma tangled… in my sheets, in silk rope, her hair between my fingers, her wrists above the shower rod. My breathing hitched, and I gripped the edge of the counter behind me. I imagined her drowsy in my bed, stretched out and sated and flippantly letting a quip drop from her lush lips. I imagined myself wrapped around her delicate fingers like a string of fate, and suddenly,tangledbecame a tangible possibility.
Breathing faster, I put a hand to my face and tried to get a grip on my sanity. But I couldn't. And she was with another man.
Mini whined again, and this time, she trotted over to the elevator. Her straight, pointy ears pricked, and she turned to look at the elevator doors before giving me another significant look. With my hand still over my face, and my chest rising and falling too quickly, I gave the dog an incredulous squint. "Are you seriously communicating with me right now?" Mini barked softly, chuffing, and then pawed at the elevator doors. "I'm going crazy," I mumbled, pushing away from the counter. "I am. I've lost it. This is all her fault."
Mini gave me a distinct eyebrow raise. There was no other description for it.
I shook my head. "I can't go after her. That would really be madness. She wouldknow, Mini. I can't just let her know I've gone head over heels for her. She'd never let me live it down."
Mini stared at me. She blinked. I tapped my hand against my thigh and glanced at the keys hanging on the hook by the door. Mini followed my glance and licked her lips, sitting down heavily like she was waiting. The tapping on my thigh grew faster. I stared down the dog, but she remained impassive, like she was simply waiting for the inevitable.
"Oh, fuck it," I growled. I grabbed the keys. Mini barked happily.
Chapter seventeen
Gemma
Rule #31: No dating roommate's friends.
Imet Spencer at a taco truck, and my first thought was that maybe he needed a few pointers from a matchmaker on which date spots were and weren’t appropriate in freezing October weather. But as soon as I walked up to him, smiling with my mouth tucked into my knit scarf and giving a little wave, he immediately held up two bags that appeared to be full of tacos and drinks. "You thinking I'm a little crazy right now?"
Spencer had a really cool look to him, with neatly buzzed hair along the bottom half and a braided messy bun on top. His eyes were warm but sharp, displaying the obvious intelligence he hid behind a layer of his joking personality. He looked like he could sell tie-dye shirts on the side of the roadorsave my life with a complicated surgery, and I found that fascinating.
"Something like that," I admitted. My breath mingled with the smoke streaming from the taco truck, and I dug my hands back into my yellow coat pockets.
Spencer was wearing a black turtleneck sweater beneath his gray, herringbone wool coat, and he looked every bit the sophisticated man I imagined he would on a date. He gestured with his head to the left. "Follow me, cute stuff."
It wasn't a gruffly mumbled, "Gem," like I was used to, but the nickname had merit. I followed him down the street, glancing up through the trees that lined the sidewalk. The setting sun refracted off the yellows, reds, and oranges like a cozy campfire, and I had the sudden desire to roast marshmallows. Instead, I gave Spencer a speculative squint. "What's the plan?"
He glanced down, his height towering over me as he clearly slowed his pace to match mine. "Something a little different, I hope."
"Ooh, different. Wow me, Spencer… wait, what's your last name?"
"Spencer is my last name," he admitted with a chuckle. "I hate my first name."
We rounded the corner of the block, and the buildings thinned out, giving way to one large building with a wide parking lot. I cocked my head in question. "Well, now you have to tell me."
"Ah, come on," Spencer grinned. "On the first date? A little fast, don't you think?"
"Oh, this is one of thoseclassydates where we don't know each other's full names. Got it," I nodded somberly.
"That's right," Spencer agreed, leading me across the parking lot to the building. "I'm a gentleman, Gemma."
I peered at the sign that said, "Horkel's Greenhouse." "I wasn't aware that gentlemen took their ladies on first dates to a… nursery?"
"Bingo," Spencer grinned. We reached the entrance, and he transferred the white paper bags to one hand before opening the door for me. "After you, madam."
"So classy," I murmured, giving him several eyelash bats before waltzing past him and into a greenhouse. He'd taken us to a side entrance of the building, apparently, and we went straight into a warm, lush greenhouse full of sharply scented pines, towering palms, and flowering plants that glistened from a recent watering. I looked around in awe. "I didn't even know this place existed."
"I like gardening," Spencer admitted, coming to stand next to me and looking a little sheepish for the first time. "I find it peaceful here, so I asked the owner if we could have the place to ourselves tonight."
Straight across from us, at the end of a row of flower beds, a wrought iron bench had been placed between two leafy plants dotted with fairy lights. A charming, iron sculpture of a dragon reading a book had been molded so it looked like it was perching on the arm of the bench. I bit my lip, returning his smile. "Okay, you win. I'm taking notes for my clients."
Spencer fist-pumped the air. "Fuck yeah. Okay, let's eat. I got every taco imaginable, some beer, a couple diet colas because I saw you drinking those when we first met, and water. What do you want?"
