The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(48)

“What are you going to say?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know when I’m even free!” My brain is in panic mode and is complete soup. Gabi grabs her one phone, swiping a few times until she finds what she wants.

“Tuesday! You’re free tomorrow night. No date.”

Cassie: I’m free tomorrow.

His reply is almost instant.

Luke: I’ll pick you up from your office.

Gabi squeals.

Luke: Bring a bag.

“Oh my God!” The sound nearly shatters my eardrum, but the smile on my face and the glow in my soul shadows it.





Twenty-One





-Luke-





Wednesday night, walking into the small bistro close to work to get a sandwich before I head home and daydream about Cassie, I pause.

Gleaming dark hair flying down the back of a navy blazer.

Red lips tipped up in a small, polite smile as she listens to a man who sits across from her talking.

Cassie.

Out with a man.

When she’s mine.

Because two dates, three dates, two weeks… she’s mine.

Except clearly, she didn’t get the memo as she sits with her notepad in front of her like she’s interviewing him.

It hits me then—she’s on a date, but she’s not. She’s interviewing him. Fury and frustration and jealousy fight in my gut still, but I try to tamp it down, try to ignore how I want to run over there and snatch her from the chair, kiss her hard and tell him to leave, then toss her over my shoulder and take back to my place where I can eat her instead of a fuckin’ sandwich.

Last night was fucking amazing. I picked her up from her office, watching her walk to the parking garage where I waited. She was smiling and giggling with a small, brown-haired girl who was introduced to me as her assistant Gabi. The one who friend requested me. The wink she gave me told me she’s on my side, even though her friend and boss might be hard to win.

Then we hit the store, getting what we needed to make a quick dinner: salad and pork chops. We cooked together, her chopping vegetables, me handling the meat, and all I could do was think about how nice this would be in a small starter home, grilling out on a back patio with her. How nice it would be to spend my nights with her like that, easy and relaxed, laughing and joking and learning about each other.

And after dinner, we went to my bed where I tasted her, touched her, made her moan my name, and she returned the favor until we were both spent, passing out until my too-early alarm went off. Then, we showered together before I drove her back to her car in the office garage on my way to work, where she headed back to her place to get ready for the day.

It was perfect.

And now, she’s sitting across from another man.

And I think about going over there and dragging her away for a few long, tense moments.

But my sister’s words come into my mind. “You have to play it smart, Luke. You can’t scare her off.”

I can’t scare her off. And if this is going to work, I need to get used to this. It’s her job. It’s not attraction or sexually based—it’s essentially a boardroom meeting. But I need to figure out how to handle it and feel about it.

And I need Cassie to tell me when her dates are, what to expect, and how she expects me to be. Especially since she definitely did not tell me she had a date tonight.

When I walk up to the register, the cashier who knows me well from coming here a few times a week fluffs her hair and smiles at me. I’m not dumb—I know I’m not terrible to look at. And I know the too young cashier has a thing for me, especially when I’ve caught her more than once trying to rearrange her tits in her bra when I’m not looking. But maybe today it can work in my favor…

“Hey Luke, how are you? Your usual?” she says, leaning on her elbows to show a glimpse of the cleavage I have no interest in. But I should bring Chris here one day. He’d love this. Flashy, in your face, absolutely no shame.

“Hey, Gina. Yeah, but get it for here.” She beams.

“Oh, yay! You never stay! You go pick a seat and I’ll bring you a drink.” I nod before sitting at a seat in the corner, in the shadows where I can watch Cass, but she can’t see me right away. I don’t really care if she does see me, but I want to take it in for a bit, if only to appease my anxiety.

And mere minutes later, appeased is precisely how I feel.

Unlike our date, she asks all the questions on her little sheet, glancing down to jot things with a sparkly pink pen, which makes me smile. She dodges questions he asks her expertly, proving to me if she wanted to, she could. When she laughs at something he says, it’s polite, not loud with her head thrown back. There’s no hand on the table in the perfect place for him to ‘accidentally’ brush or hold.

It’s exactly as I thought. But the date we shared was different. It was not what she expected, because there was something there. It was not a date for work. Nothing about us has been about vetting me or screening me. At least, not to match me with some kind of client. Now I’m just fighting to get past the most obstinate barrier of them all, the one protecting her heart from being hurt like her mother’s was.

Seeing it also makes me think more rationally. My blood was boiling when I saw her with another man. Your girl out with some other man, work or otherwise, isn’t something you expect to see when you’re grabbing your dinner. And when she’s dressed like that, beautiful and smiling at him, when he’s staring at her, pausing between her face and her tits like he thinks he might have a fucking chance? No. Not at all. But this is her job, the business she built. So if I’m going to convince her to give us a try, I’ll have to endure this, to accept some of her nights will be spent with other men, going on dates and finding their failings.