The Dating Experiment (The Experiment, #2)(39)

I typed it in and hit enter. Still wrong, but that was the only work it could— Shit. I knew what that meant.

I re-typed the name and added her date of birth. A little circle came up that it was loading, and I held my breath until the screen blinked to the desktop.

Thank God for that.

I really needed to talk to her about password security…



Me: Got in. Figured out the password hint.

Elliott: Good to know. What are you gonna do now?



The only thing I could do.



Me: Wait for her.

***

“Sorry, Tanya,” I said quietly into the phone. “We’ve been working together now for nine months. I can’t help you if you’re going to reject every guy I send your way on the first date.”

“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just think I’m not ready to commit,” she replied.

“Why don’t I send you my sister’s way? She’ll be able to help you out,” I offered.

A moment’s silence, and then, “That sounds like it might be better right now. Thanks, Dom.”

“You’re welcome. Speak soon.” I hung up and pinched the bridge of my nose.

I wasn’t gonna lie. She was one of the most high-maintenance clients I’d ever worked with. Fifteen dates in nine months and every single one of them was wrong. After she’d slept with the last three on the first date only to never speak to them again, it was pretty obvious she was more designed for Peyton’s hook-up services than she was my dating ones.

I blew out a long breath and leaned my head back on the sofa. Closing my eyes, I let the frustration of my wasted time escape me. I stayed like that for a moment, then pushed the laptop off me, grabbed my empty coffee mug, and got up to make another.

I walked into the kitchen and stopped. Chloe was standing in front of the machine, wearing the same, oversized shirt she’d had on when I’d gotten here. This time, though, she was clearly wearing a bra and a pair of neon yellow shorts beneath it.

She dropped her hands to the hem, tying the side of the shirt into a knot. Slowly, she tilted her head so her eyes found mine.

“You’re awake,” I said like an idiot.

“And you’re still here,” she said gently.

I put down my cup next to the machine and looked down at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I fell asleep, for a start.” She tucked some of her messy hair behind her ear. “I didn’t expect you to be here when I woke up. I thought you’d have gone to work.”

“I did. I used your laptop and turned off that shit you were watching on TV.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know what to address first. The blasphemy or the fact you broke into my laptop.”

“It’s not breaking in when you have an obvious password hint.” I nudged her to the side and put my cup under the machine. ““Work Date.” Stupid Cupid, plus the date we were officially registered as a company, which happened to be on your birthday.”

“Great. Now I have to change my password.”

“Why? I don’t need it from now on.”

She pointed to the Echo on the other side of the room.

My lips quirked up. “I can say, in good faith, that one of the richest men in the world is not interested in your laptop password, Chlo.”

She folded her arms. “But people still listen through it.”

“Then why do you keep it?”

“Because,” she said, shooting it a glance. “There was this murder case where the judge ordered them to hand over mic footage, and it totally pinned the murderer.”

“So, you’re keeping it on the off chance you get murdered, and they don’t leave enough evidence behind?”

She nodded. “You never know.” Then, she swiped my now-full mug from the machine. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“That was mine.”

“I know, but I just woke up, and the don’t-talk-until-coffee rule applies to all kinds of sleep. All night or catnap—I’m not fussy.” She pulled the milk from the fridge.

“I’ve been drinking from it.”

“Oh, God, alert the germ police. God forbid I drink from the mug of a man who had his tongue on my clitoris a few hours ago.”

That was a very solid point.

“I see we’re not beating around the bush when it comes to discussing it.”

She slammed down the carton of milk and looked at me. “What? Are we not supposed to? Are we just going to ignore it happened?”

This was escalating faster than I’d imagined.

“Also, I don’t have a bush to beat around, as you well know.” She poured the milk into the coffee and replaced it.

Thank God.

The next step was to get out of the kitchen. If she was yelling already, then this was a dangerous room.

Never mind the little computer thing recording her murder. It’d record mine if we stayed in here much longer.

“All fair points you’re making.” I nodded, getting another mug. “But, I’d rather not have this conversation in the kitchen. You can reach the knives too easily.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m not going to kill you. Not until we get life insurance policies.” She grinned over the rim of her mug and walked into the living room.