The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(10)

“Wow, really?” I say, more than a little surprised. “You’re the first person I’ve met who’s even heard of it.”

His brown eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles at me, his messy brown hair flopping over one eye when he nods. “What did you think of the part where—actually, maybe I should invite you to sit down before I start asking questions.” He gestures to a two-person table that’s been staked out with a messenger bag on one chair.

He has a nice smile. What the heck, I could use a friend right about now. “Sure, thanks.”

He helps me move my stuff to his table. In between bites and sips, I rave about my favorite webcomic for almost twenty minutes while he nods, murmurs in agreement, and eggs me on with the occasional question.

“Plus, the art style is so nuanced. Like, Sheri’s expressions are exaggerated while Lila’s are subtle and ambiguous to show the—” I cut myself off, suddenly realizing I’m being rude. “S-sorry, I’ve just been going on and on. I haven’t even asked your name.”

He chuckles. “No worries, I was really interested in what you were saying. I’m Austin.”

“I’m Presley. So, what do you do?” I ask.

“I’m a programmer. You?”

“I actually just started a new job at Aspen today.” I polish off the last bite of my banana bread and wipe my mouth with a napkin.

Austin’s eyebrows wing up. “Wow, the massive hotel chain? I’ve heard they’re really competitive.”

“No kidding. To tell you the truth, I don’t quite feel like I belong there.”

I’m not sure why I’m saying all this. I practically just met this guy, and I’m pouring out my insecurities. But he’s such a good listener, it feels like I can tell him what’s on my mind.

“It’s probably just first-day jitters,” he says. “It’ll wear off when you get used to the people and how they do things. You seem smart, and you wouldn’t have gotten the job in the first place if they didn’t think you were good enough.”

“That’s true.” I chuckle and shake my head. “Sorry to make you play therapist.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I said that because I wanted to.” He smiles back, a little shy, but genuine. “Listen, I gotta run, but can I have your number? And maybe we can meet up for coffee again sometime? I mean, you do kinda owe me a slice of banana bread . . .”

I consider, but it doesn’t take much thought. He’s easy to talk to, and his candid manner is both comfortable and refreshing. He’s also cute—not like Dominic’s overpowering, slightly intimidating magnetism, but in a sweet, safe, boy-next-door kind of way. Austin is exactly what I need to get these forbidden feelings off my mind.

Pulling out my phone, I smile. “Sure, I’d like that.”

After I leave the coffee shop, all I can think about the entire way home is the bill Michael hit me with. I tried to keep my cool in front of him, but the truth is, I’m freaking out about how I’m going to do all this.

Bianca’s not home when I reach the apartment, and I remember the yoga class she takes on Monday nights. So I grab a handful of nuts that I hope will tide me over, and open my laptop to continue working on the notes I started putting together for my business proposal.

There’s nothing else I can do besides get down to work. Besides, there’s no sense in worrying about my money problems when I have a CEO to impress.

? ? ?

I make it through Aspen’s doors at eight o’clock sharp, and I’ve barely sat down at my desk when Jordan pokes his head into my cubicle.

“Hey . . . Parsley, right?”

“Presley.” I sigh.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Oliver says he wants us to develop a budget proposal for the new Acapulco resort. Can you meet now? Or I can come back later . . .”

Why assign us together? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Dominic gave me my own duties, but if Aspen’s vice president wants me to do something, that’s what I’m going to do. Maybe this is intended to test how well we juggle multiple tasks or handle teamwork or something. Regardless, I’m sure it’s some kind of test, and I’ll be damn sure that I ace it.

I follow Jordan to his cubicle, where he pulls up a long email from Oliver and leaves me to read it while he finds a second chair.

As we work, my initial bad impression of Jordan fades. Sure, he lacks rigor—his habit of not double-checking the company style guide drives me nuts—but his observations are insightful and his suggestions creative.

Around eleven, my stomach growls so loudly, I swear it echoes off the walls. Blushing, I say, “Sorry, I missed breakfast.”

Jordan laughs, not unkindly. “You wanna take an early lunch?”

“I guess we’re at a good spot for a break.”

Still chatting about our joint project, we head to the employee cafeteria, load up our trays, and find seats. In between thoughts, I scarf down my chicken salad sandwich and barbecue chips, feeling very grateful that this internship includes a free lunch.

The way Jordan tips his chair back while he eats makes me nervous; I get the feeling that if we weren’t at work, he’d prop his feet on the table. I’m not nearly as comfortable here.