The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient #3)(15)

I pick up one of his discarded gloves and throw it at him. “Yeah, I watched them. They were interesting. I’ll probably watch more.”

He catches the glove easily and laughs. “Especially if she watches with you.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll see her again.”

“You liked her, though?” he asks.

I shrug. “Yeah.” I keep my tone light like it’s not a big deal, because it’s not. I know there’s nothing going on between us. But I do really like her. Last night was a little awkward, especially the part where I waited for her at the bar for half an hour, but texting about random stuff and watching nerdy TV was good. There wasn’t any pressure. Things flowed easily. I laughed a lot. It wasn’t the reintroduction to dating that I was looking for, but truthfully, I think it’s better.

Michael gives me a knowing look. “You guys are going to meet again. I bet you a hundred bucks.”

I’m about to say something sarcastic when my phone starts buzzing repeatedly from inside my pocket. I dig it out, expecting it to be my mom, but the screen says Anna.

She’s calling me. Not texting, but calling.

The knowledge that she felt comfortable enough to take this step makes my chest light up.

“Shit, is that her?” Michael asks, rushing over to peer at my phone over my shoulder. “Hurry up and answer.”

I draw in a quick breath and exhale through my lips before accepting the call and bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Anna.”

“Hi,” she says, sounding shy and awkward and entirely like herself.

I shouldn’t, but I break into a huge grin. “What’s up?” Michael is watching me with pure delight, so I turn around to get some privacy from his nosy eyes.

“I was wondering if you wanted to try again tonight? Maybe at my place?” she asks.

“Yeah, that would be great. Should I bring anything? I can pick up takeout,” I offer.

“Is that safe with your motorcycle?”

I laugh. “I have a car, too.”

“Well, I was thinking we could cook something, so it’s really not necessary. I’m usually better when I have something to do, and I’m okay in the kitchen as long as I don’t have to touch raw meat. It’s slimy.” She sounds so tortured that I can’t help laughing again.

“Are you a vegetarian, Anna?”

“No, but I don’t eat a whole ton of meat.”

“Because it’s better for the planet,” I guess.

“Because it’s better for the planet,” she confirms, and I can tell from her voice that she’s smiling. “Are you okay with pasta? And mushrooms? And white wine sauce?”

Grinning, I say, “Yeah, I like pasta and mushrooms and white wine sauce.”

“Does seven work for you tonight?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” she says on a relieved breath. “I’ll text you my address. When you get here, buzz me in apartment 3A, and I’ll let you up.”

“Got it, looking forward to it.”

I expect her to say good-bye and hang up, but instead she says, “Me, too.”

I smile so hard my face hurts. “Bye, Anna.”

“Bye, Quan.”

The line finally disconnects, and when I turn around, there’s such glee on Michael’s face that I pick up his second glove and chuck it at him. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He’s so busy smirking that the glove hits his chest and falls to the ground by his feet without getting his attention. “You really like her.”

“We’re just going to hook up and then we’ll be done. This isn’t a thing,” I say reasonably.

“Okay,” he says, but he’s still smirking and I know he doesn’t believe it for a second. He thinks I’ve met someone special, when I haven’t.

I mean, she is special. But she’s not my someone special.

I’m sure of this.

Mostly sure.

To change the subject, I open up an email that I’ve been debating sharing with him and hand him my phone. “Check this out. I got this email yesterday.”

He reads out loud under his breath as his eyes dart across the screen, “Hi, Quan, congratulations on MLA’s recent Jennifer Garner endorsement on social media! Her kids look adorably fabulous in your clothes. My wife ordered those same dresses for our twins. I asked around and was told you guys are looking for funding to take things to the next level. Let’s set up a call. Angèlique Ikande, of LVMH Acquisitions.” Frowning, he looks up from the phone and asks, “That’s not the LV that I’m thinking, is it?”

“Pretty sure it is,” I say.

“Louis Vuitton?” he asks, his eyes opened wider than I’ve ever seen.

“The one and only.” I try to keep my smile from growing too big. This could be nothing. It could also be the break of a lifetime for a small company like ours. I’ve been trying my best not to get too excited. “The call is next Friday. I was going to wait until after the call to tell you—I’ll know more then—but I figured if I were you, I’d want to know.”

“I can’t even …” Michael gives me back my phone and slumps against the wall, looking dazed. “But what does it mean if they acquire us? Will they change our name? Will they even keep you and me?”