The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(29)

“Yes.” The acid in my stomach churns at the thought of yet another rule broken, another first.

“Cassie, I’m not trying to scare you, but….” I take a deep breath, wondering what she’ll say. “I don’t think he’s in this for a match.”

“Well, no. His sisters set this up.”

“No, I know that. But if your sisters set you up with a matchmaker, you do the date, get it done with, and tell them it didn’t work. You don’t make it magical, don’t kiss her, don’t make her break her rules and insist on going out on the weekend.” I’ve put blinders on so I can ignore this fact. She’s not wrong, but if I look at it that way, if I start to think…

“I can’t. No. This is a client. It has to stay that way.”

“Why?” The question floors me. No one has ever bothered to ask.

“My father lied to my mom, kept it up for twenty years, and when it was all said and done, she was destroyed. I can’t let it happen to me. I won’t let anyone hold that much power over me. Not for good or bad. Because it always ends badly. Even the ones that seem like fairytales.”

“Okay, then why The Ex Files? You don’t believe a relationship can last, but you help create them?”

“I can’t stop people from wanting to find love. What I can do is make sure the women who use my services are equipped with the knowledge to protect themselves.” Gabi stares at me, nods, but then keeps on digging.

“Well, who said it has to be forever? Who said it has to be serious? Couldn’t you just… have fun with him? Enjoy spending time with someone?” I don’t tell her I’ve been asking myself the same all day because yesterday was fun. And tonight, gossiping with a friend after spending a night out with new ones, I realize maybe I built my protective wall a little too well. But still…

“That never works, Gabi. Someone always gets hurt.” She stares at me for long moments, reading my face, but then she blinks, acceptance and… strategy coming over her expression.

“Okay, Cassie,” she says before turning to focus on the TV. “You wanna watch this or Housewives?”

The night continues with ease—the ease of a new friend, of hanging with a girlfriend. But her words stay in the back of my mind for days.

You don’t make it magical, don’t kiss her, don’t make her break her rules….





Fourteen





-Cassie-





Luke: Wear jeans on Saturday.

My phone buzzes on Thursday morning, two days after my… date with him. I stare at it like it might explode when the name I saved into my phone after the last call blinks across the screen....

Luke: Sneakers. Or boots. No heels.

That requires a response.

Cassie: I don’t do flats.

Luke: I’ll buy you a pair then.

Cassie: I don’t need you to buy me shoes, Mr. Dawson.

Luke: Be careful with what you call me, sweetheart. I might want to hear you say it again in a much more comfortable setting.

Heat runs down my spine against my will. This is so inappropriate! my inner rule-following librarian shrieks. Then why does she like it so much? my sex fiend retorts. Rather than give in to their bickering, I reply to Luke.

Cassie: This is inappropriate.

He doesn’t reply, and something about that adds a black cloud to my entire morning as I dig through my emails. I’m more aggressive than usual, tossing potential clients onto my waitlist with much less thought, sending snippy replies, and even glaring once at Gabrielle—I mean Gabi. Thankfully, she just laughed when I did, and that tiny glimmer of growing friendship turned the black thundercloud into a light grey one.

But it still rubbed me wrong, how annoyed I was with his lack of reply.

As I walk out of the office to grab a coffee mid-day, my phone rings.

Lucas Dawson calling.

Staring at my phone, I let it ring once, twice, three times as I stand completely still in the middle of the busy sidewalk, people bumping into me and grumbling as they walk around.

“Hello?” My words are shaky as I answer. Then, clearing my throat, I repeat myself. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Silence. What the—I move the phone from my ear to look at it once more, to make sure it’s him. Maybe he has some girlfriend he meant to call? His sisters set him up; perhaps they didn’t know…

“Uh, this is Cassandra with The Ex Files. Unfortunately, I think you have the wrong number.

“I’m the one who called you, Cass.”

“Yeah, but…” my voice trails off as I try to decide what to say next. “Is something wrong? Do you need to... talk about the next date or something? Reschedule?”

“Nope.”

“Well, then… why are you calling me?” The words tumble out, and he laughs. Laugh number one, when I do something he thinks is silly.

“On my lunch.”

“You’re… on your lunch?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“And you’re… calling me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I like talking to you.” In the background, there’s a racket of noise, metal clanging and men laughing, but it’s not distracting. In fact, it just reminds me who I’m talking with, this normal, every day, down-to-earth man who I’m supposed to be setting up.