The Rules of Dating My Best Friend's Sister(22)

“You’re not just getting home from work now, are you?”

Lala nodded. “I am. I had so much to do and lost track of time.” She stepped into the elevator. “And where are you coming from?”

“I was just at a bar down the block.”

“How can that be?” She flashed a cheeky smile and looked around the elevator car. “You’re all alone.”

“Cute.” I pushed the button to our floor. “You know I’m not half the manwhore you think I am.” At least not lately.

When the elevator doors slid open on three, I held my hand out for her to exit first. Then I tried my best not to look down at her ass, but failed miserably.

“You staying in for the rest of the evening?” she asked as she took out her keys.

“Yeah. You?”

She nodded. “One wild weekend night is enough for me.”

I smiled. “You want to come over for a glass of wine?”

Lala chewed on that pouty bottom lip of hers. It looked like she was about to say no, so I threw out an alternative that sounded less suggestive than inviting her over to my place.

“How about a fire escape nightcap? You on yours, me on mine, like the other night?”

She smiled. “Okay. That sounds good. Just let me get changed.”

Inside, I opened a bottle of white and grabbed two glasses before climbing out onto the fire escape. Lala joined me a few minutes later, wearing a T-shirt and leggings. I poured us each a glass and passed her one through the balusters.

“So tell me, what’s a day at the office like for Dr. Lala Ellison?”

She sipped her wine. “Well, today I went through the rest of the applications for my study and finalized the candidates who are going to participate.”

“They all have Alzheimer’s?”

She nodded. “It’s a controlled study, so I picked people who live in assisted-living facilities within a twenty-five-mile radius. And they all have the same ADAS Cog score—it’s a scale that grades the level of cognitive dysfunction.”

I smiled. “I always knew you’d do something big.”

“Thanks. Though I haven’t done anything big quite yet.”

A light breeze blew, and Lala rubbed her arms. “It’s chillier than I thought,” she said.

“The night air gets chilly this early in May. I’ll grab you a sweatshirt.”

“It’s okay.”

But I stood and climbed through my window anyway. I came back with a sweatshirt and passed it over the railing to her.

“Thanks.” She pulled it over her head. “So I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo all day.”

“Thinking about getting a tattoo or thinking about all of mine?”

“Uh...”

I chuckled. “I’m teasing. So you’re really gonna get one?”

“I want to. I think I’d like to get a small cross on my wrist. The cross would be in the center, and I’d put the date Ryan died on the side.”

“That’ll look awesome. You should make an appointment with Billie.”

“Yeah…maybe. I’m just not positive yet.”

“What’s holding you back? The pain?”

“That and, well, I’ve mentioned it to Warren before, and he was sort of against it.”

My jaw clenched. “Does he have a problem with tattoos?”

“He doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to get one where anyone can see it. He thinks it looks unprofessional and will hurt my credibility.”

“I think his view is pretty outdated, Lala.”

She sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I said, too.”

“Will he give you shit if you get one anyway?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but...” She trailed off as her cell started to buzz. Just like the last time we sat out here, her face fell.

Dr. Douchebag is a judgmental fuck, but he certainly has good timing.

Only Lala didn’t say she had to go this time. Instead, she pushed the button on the side of her phone and stopped it from buzzing.

“Speak of the devil.” She smiled. “It’s Warren. I’ll just call him back later.”

As meaningless as it probably was, I took it as a win. Lala had the choice to talk to him or me, and this time, she’d picked me. Progress.

We talked for another half hour, and then I made the mistake of asking her if she wanted a refill.

“I should probably get to bed. I can’t even believe I drank one glass with how I was feeling earlier today.”

I would’ve stayed out here all night with her, but I nodded. “Yeah, I should get some shut-eye, too.”

Lala got up and handed me her empty glass. “Thanks for the wine. Goodnight, Holden.”

“’Night, Lala.”

She ducked to climb in her window, then stopped and stood straight again. “Hang on a second.” She reached for the hem of the sweatshirt she’d been wearing and pulled it over her head. “Thank you for the loaner.”

“No problem.” It would really be fine for you to keep it.

Back inside, I set both wine glasses in the sink. I was pretty damn proud of myself for putting the one with her lip marks down so easily tonight. But then I looked at what I’d thrown over my arm: the sweatshirt.