Winn: And thanks.
I look up from my phone and sigh, realizing that duty calls, and, for once, I don’t want to answer.
It looks like Ev is in the same situation.
“Sorry, Molly. That was Nate. The deal we just sealed in Chicago is on the rocks again.”
“Are you flying out there?”
“No, a few phone calls should do it, but we’ll likely be at it for the next several hours.”
“No problem.” I hold up my phone. “I need to pick up my brother at school. He’s got a killer migraine.”
Ev breaches the distance between us and traces his fingers up my arm in silent acknowledgment that the afternoon plans we were considering are no longer happening.
“Sounds like we both have obligations,” Ev says.
“We do,” I agree, wondering if, perhaps, our interruptions came at just the right time.
“But we’re still on for tomorrow night.” He smiles, as though he knows I’m starting to hesitate.
“Tomorrow?”
“Night,” he finishes. “You and me, back at Mahady’s. The band Simon loves is playing and—”
“And we agreed to go. Right. I forgot. I mean, I remembered, but then I forgot. What time do you want to meet?” I reach into my bag again, digging for his keys.
He stills my wrist and rubs his thumb on the sensitive skin there. “Keep the wheels another night. My hotel’s only a few blocks away from here. It’s an easy walk. Pick me up at 8.”
I nod my understanding, as he kisses my cheek, turns, and leaves. I have his car keys, but why do I feel like he still has the control?
Molly’s dress should come with a warning label. The way it dips in the front, revealing a teasing glimpse of her cleavage. The open back that skims the top of her ass and shows she’s clearly not wearing a bra. The short, tight skirt that hugs her thighs.
My God, Molly herself should probably come wrapped in caution tape.
And now I have images of Molly bound in tape running through my brain. Dammit.
The lights are low, and Mahady’s is crowded, so the chances of anyone spotting my hard on are slim. Still, I aim to conceal it by finding us a table. There’s an empty one along the far wall, and I place my beer on the tabletop to claim it.
Molly follows me and sits, crossing her legs as she perches on the stool, and Jesus, that just makes it worse.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Molly.”
“Thanks.” The pink tinge in her cheeks and the way she shifts slightly in her chair tell me that my compliment affects her more than she’d like to admit.
“And you look handsome, as always.” She returns the sentiment, but she’s holding back.
“But…” I prompt, curious. Is she going to remind me, yet again, that this isn’t a date?
“But,” she leans in and tugs gently on my tie. “We’ve got to get you out of these suits. Are they sexy? Yes. Do you stand out in a crowd? Always. But if you’re going to hang out in a tourist town bar on Saturday night, then we need to get you some jeans.”
“Molly, I think you’re well aware that you can get me out of my suit any time you want to. As for jeans, that’s another matter.”
“You don’t wear jeans?”
She’s seemingly horrified at this, as though it’s an outward sign of some inner deficiency or personality disorder. I shrug. “Not usually. I’m sure I’ve owned jeans, but I don’t generally wear them. When I’m awake, I’m only ever in a handful of places. At work, I wear a suit and tie. When I’m at the gym or on my boat, I’m in workout clothes. And when I’m sleeping, I’m naked.” I take a pull of my beer and let those words sink in.
“After a few turns out on the dance floor, you’ll be begging me to take you shopping for more comfortable, casual clothes.”
