Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(10)

My sister opened the door and walked in with her hands on her hips before I could formulate a response to Oliver, and I was grateful for the interruption. These were people who could see right through me—read me like a book—and I couldn’t deal with that right now. Not when I wasn’t sure what language the words were even written in, and I needed to actually go see the person who had me feeling this way.

“This isn’t Bean and Vic bonding time. You can do that tomorrow,” Estelle said.

“You get more annoying with age. You know that, right?” I said, smiling at her when she stuck her tongue out at me.

“It was pointed out to me recently,” she said, glaring at Oliver, who chuckled in response. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that while you guys are cooped up in your living room all day tomorrow I’ll be at an orphanage.”

“Doing what?” I asked as we walked to the living room.

“Painting. I’m donating supplies and stuff.”

“And her services,” Oliver added with that love-struck smile he always had around my sister. How the hell I didn’t realize they were together, or had been together, before I caught them was beyond my comprehension now I was exposed to their corny shit all the time.

“That’s cool. And you’re telling me this because?” I asked, plopping down on the loveseat.

“Because I haven’t had a chance to make the stupid bean dip or anything else, so you’re going to have to make your own or go grocery shopping.”

“That’s fine,” I said, closing my eyes as I leaned back. I fell asleep to the sound of my sister and Oliver talking about groceries and my mom asking if she should make the dip for us. Despite the noise, I managed to sleep, and dreamed of Nicole Alessi and the sexy way she carried herself.

It was just sex. It was. Really good sex, but I could have really good sex with a lot of women. I hadn’t planned on exchanging phone numbers with her after it was over, but then she adjusted her dress and laughed at the sight of her torn-up underwear and I wanted a repeat. I couldn’t explain why. I just knew I did. I didn’t expect to call her and end up staying on the phone when she turned down my invitation for the repeat. I didn’t expect her to walk into the office two weeks after I’d gotten a job there, and I sure as hell didn’t expect her last name to be Alessi.

So many wrong things.

So many illicit thoughts.

So many reasons why the repeat wouldn’t happen.

But then she knocked on my door. Mouth ajar, blue eyes widened in shock.

“You’re the new guy?” she asked.

In that moment, I didn’t know whether to accept the shock I felt or call security because she was obviously stalking me. Even the rational part of my brain was on full alert.

“Yeah,” I said, uncomfortably eyeing the door she closed behind her. “What are you doing here?”

Please don’t say you work here. Please don’t say you work here. Maybe she was just passing along a message for somebody. Maybe she was a florist making a delivery. Maybe she was also f*cking one of my colleagues. At that I cringed. That would mean we definitely couldn’t have another go.

“I’m . . . my dad . . .” She sighed, not waiting for an invitation before sitting down in one of the chairs across from me.

Under normal circumstances, that would have bothered me, but I was quickly realizing that things with “Nicole from the nightclub” weren’t normal. She hadn’t even called me back after turning me down. She’d sent me a few text messages, but that was it, and my text messaging skills were poor to say the least. I hated it. I hated the idea of her being able to show her friends what we talked about. I hated the idea of anybody knowing what our plans were. I didn’t know why. There was no plausible explanation for me feeling that way. None. But now she was sitting across from me, I was starting to believe it was the right move.

“Your dad,” I asked, “is getting a divorce?”

“Uh . . . no,” she said, licking her full lips nervously. The same lips I’d kissed a couple weeks ago. The same lips I kept envisioning around my cock. “Will is my dad.”

I blinked hard, away from her lips. “What?”

“He’s . . . my dad,” she said, her voice small, her eyes apologetic. Good. So she knew this couldn’t happen anymore. But what the ever-loving f*ck? This was definitely payback for me f*cking my fraternity brother’s girlfriend back in college. Definitely. Fuck my f*cking life.

“Your dad,” I said flatly. She nodded, tugging her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth. The sight of it made something inside me ricochet.

“Yep,” she said with a pop. She looked at me for a moment, just looked at me, her eyes scanning my face, dropping to my chest, and back up. “You look really good in a suit.”

“Nicole,” I said, a warning.

She smiled. “Yep.”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Okay.” She shrugged, but kept smiling, taunting. “So, divorce law, huh?”

I kept my eyes on hers. “Yes.”

“Are your parents divorced?”

“No.”

She frowned a bit, looking pensive. “Interesting. Are they happy?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling my lips tilt into a smile. “Are you a psychology major?”