End of Story(28)

Lars frowned. “Susie?”

“Hey,” I squeaked. “Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Yep. Yes. Just a lot going on, you know, hostessing.”

What with me running around making purchases and both of us working, we actually hadn’t seen much of each other during the last few days. The interior was finished so he, Mateo, and Connor had been outside dealing with the exterior. Seeing him now hit me harder than expected. Which was stupid. The man should not matter this much to me.

He shoved a big hand through his golden locks in a move that was pure porn and asked, “What can I do for you?”

“Um.”

My knowledge of the English language...was gone. None of the other males at this party had thrown me. Just him, dammit. Since when had my mind gotten so sex addled? And the condition was only getting worse. Why, I’d given myself three stern lectures about rude thoughts with regards to him just this week. I was a weak-willed woman.

“Susie,” he said again. “Focus. How can I help?”

Tore grinned.

So I pointed my cheese knife at Tore first. “Put the wine on the sideboard in the dining room and go see if Cleo needs any assistance.”

“Will do. Who’s Cleo?”

“Best friend. Yellow dress.”

“Got it,” he said and disappeared.

“What about me?” asked Lars.

“I need the tzatziki and grapes out of the fridge and more crackers and cashews from the pantry.”

He did as told. “Who are all these people?”

“Business acquaintances and assorted friends.”

“You’re popular.”

“Does this surprise you?” I asked somewhat archly.

“No. It doesn’t.”

Lars smiled at me and I smiled at him as he set the asked-for items on the counter. Which meant we were standing close together as he finally took in the fully glory of my appearance. And the man didn’t just frown, he scowled.

I didn’t understand his reaction—given that my lips were a demure matte rose pink and my hair was classy and sedate in a sleek low ponytail, I was practically dressed like a nun. If a nun wore a black leather pencil skirt with matching organic cotton ribbed tank top and plain kitten heels.

He took a mighty step back from me and said, “I was thinking, maybe you should introduce me to your friend.”

“You want to meet Cleo?”

One thick shoulder lifted in the most tentative shrug of all time. “Might be an idea. A way to fix our...problem.”

“Is this something to do with the self-fulfilling-prophecy theory?” I asked. “The illicit thoughts regarding each other’s bangability?”

“The unwanted-attraction thing. Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Because the way you were just looking at me leads me to think maybe I’m not the only—”

“Stop. Say no more. Please.” I hung my head in shame. The truth sucked. “This is so humiliating.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “What do you call an unrequited crush when it is requited, the person on the receiving end just really and truly doesn’t want it to be?”

Lars sighed.

“It’s even worse than the person not knowing you’re into them. You acknowledge being attracted to me and you hate it.”

“Hate is a strong word.”

“I mean, is this how we wind up married?”

His jaw firmed. “The divorce certificate isn’t real. You know that.”

“Do I?” I asked. “Don’t answer that. So you want me to introduce you to my best friend so you can be into her instead of me. Okay. I get where you’re coming from.” I sighed. “I mean...it’s a valid idea. And at least you’d be dating within the extended friendship group.”

He nodded. “There is that.”

“Guess I should go have a drink with Tore.”

“Wait. What?”

“Give that connection more of a chance. I do really like him. He’s smart and funny and kind of hot.”

“You said there was nothing between you and him.” And the growl in his voice was nothing less than thrilling. The sheer depth and crankiness it conveyed.

I blinked big innocent eyes up at him.

He leaned down until we were almost nose to nose. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I would never.”

He glared at me. “Susie, he’s my brother.”

“That’s right. And, Lars, she’s my best friend.” I gave him my very best smile. “Maybe we should both give this a bit more thought. What do you say?”

More glaring.

“By the way, my graphic designer friend, Hang, wants to talk to you about renovating her place at Madison Park. Why don’t you take these snacks out for me and go socialize?”

He grabbed the board and stomped off to enjoy the party.

Because I’d invited people I knew professionally, I didn’t get to kick off my heels, have a strong drink, and stop being my best self until after midnight. The crowd had thinned out by then. I’d just seen Miss Lillian to the door (she said it was good karma to be one of the last to leave a party) when Lars sat beside me on the gray velvet sofa. I still planned to have it reupholstered. Though there was something about the colors of a storm, being surrounded by grays and blues. They were moody and comforting at the same time.