It wasn’t sex, and it wasn’t her, but it was pretty fucking good.
Leaning against the tile, I let my dick drop and caught my breath. What was I going to do about her? Fuck her and get it over with?
No. That wasn’t really my style, but even if it had been, I knew it was a bad idea to get too close to her. Dad’s fling would end, and there’d be no more reason for Everly to stay. We’d have to go back to what we’d been before—boss and assistant.
That ring didn’t really make her mine.
I finished washing up, then got out of the shower and toweled off. No sound came from the bedroom to indicate Everly might be there, and when I peeked through the door, I found it empty. I dressed, putting on a white t-shirt and sweats. Everly had teased me the first time she’d seen me wearing sweats, saying she hadn’t thought casual Shepherd existed. As if I walked around in a suit and tie even on weekends.
If she only knew. Casual Shepherd did exist, and not just the guy wearing sweats at home. I just didn’t let people see him. Not anyone I knew personally, at least.
Relaxed from my shower, I wandered out to the kitchen to find something to eat, my mind already switching to work. I had proposals to review and a contact to go over. I’d get some food and spend the evening in my office tonight. Everly wouldn’t be home, anyway.
Not that it mattered what she was doing. We’d gone on several dates-for-show recently, so why did I keep thinking about her plans for tonight? She didn’t have to spend every evening with me.
I needed to get her out of my head.
Coming around the corner into the kitchen, I almost ran right into her. She yelped, clutching a silver water bottle to her chest.
“Oh my god, you scared me,” she said. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know you were home.”
She was dressed in a blue tank top with a pair of skin-tight leggings that showed every curve. With her hair up in a ponytail and her skin glistening from her run, it made me want to lick her to see if she tasted salty.
Her full, pink lips parted in a bright smile. “That’s okay, no harm done. Did you have a good workout?”
It took me two tries to get a word out. “Yeah.”
“You okay?”
No, I’m fucking distracted because I just gave myself an Everly-scented orgasm.
Oh shit, what if she smelled me? I ran a hand through my hair, although that certainly wasn’t what I’d used her shampoo for. “Fine. Just a lot on my mind.”
She took a drink of her water. “Okay. I’ll let you do your thing. Are you done with the shower? I need to take one.”
Damn it, just the mention of her in the shower was getting me hard again. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yes.”
She shrugged. “All right.”
Just as she was about to walk away, her hands caught my attention. Her left hand, specifically. It was bare.
“Where’s your ring?”
She held her hand out and glanced down at it. “Oh, I took it off to go running.”
It was the oddest thing. We’d already decided that she wouldn’t wear it in the office; she was concerned about the gossip and I agreed it was best to keep things quiet at work. But there was a deeply primal part of me that wanted to insist—no, command—that she wear my ring at all other times. Running, shopping, out with her friends drinking martinis—I wanted that ring on her finger.
But I stopped myself from insisting. Clenched my teeth and looked at her hand for a few seconds. She stood frozen, her arm outstretched, her eyes on my face.
I cleared my throat and moved past her into the kitchen. It didn’t matter if she took it off to go running. It wasn’t real. She wasn’t my girlfriend, or my fiancée. She was just Everly, my assistant.
Except she wasn’t. She was a hell of a lot more, and I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do about that.
17
Everly
The bar was crowded, with a playful energy filling the air. People milled around in small groups while an endless stream of anti-love songs played in the background. Crossed-out hearts hung from the ceiling and papered the side of the bar, an ode to tonight’s theme—Stupid Cupid Saturday.
I sat at a tall table, already sipping a martini—dirty tonight—and tapped my high-heeled foot to a cover of “Love Stinks.” Nora and Hazel had arrived after me and were at the bar, ordering their drinks. I was so glad we were having a girls’ night. I hadn’t seen them in a couple of weeks and with everything that had been going on, I wanted some normalcy. Saturday night out with the girls was perfect.
They made their way through the crowd to our table. Nora’s hair was down, the thick waves framing her face. She wore a short black dress and the cutest red heels—the ensemble looked magnificent on her. Hazel was dressed in a cardigan over a blouse and pencil skirt. Adorable, in a Hazel sort of way. She adjusted her glasses as she and Nora each took a seat, setting their martinis on the table.
“What in the hell is that?” Nora asked, pointing at my ring.
I sighed. I’d considered leaving the ring at home, but the look Shepherd had given me when I’d told him I’d taken it off for my run had been so odd. He’d looked mad—sort of. Or maybe confused. It was hard to tell with him, and he hadn’t said anything else. But I’d slipped it back on before I’d left, feeling like I should probably wear it when I went out. Even though it would mean fessing up to my friends about my fake-engagement debacle.
“It’s an engagement ring,” I said. “A fake engagement ring.”
Nora visibly relaxed. “Oh, I see. It’s not real. I was going to say, holy shit that rock is enormous.”
“Oh, no—the diamond is real.”
Her eyes widened and she stared at the monstrosity on my hand. “What?”
“I mean the engagement is fake. Obviously I’m not marrying Shepherd. But it’s a real diamond.”
“We’re coming back to the part where you’re pretending to be engaged now, because obviously you need to tell us what the fuck that’s about,” Nora said. “But look at that thing. He bought that? It’s not on loan or something?”
“No, he bought it.”
Hazel lifted my hand to inspect the ring up close. “That’s quite the investment in an engagement that isn’t real.”
“It’s ridiculous,” I said. “I don’t know how people wear things like this all the time. It keeps catching on everything.”
“A worthy sacrifice,” Nora said, her voice awed. “It’s gorgeous.”
I pulled it off my finger and held it out to her. “Want to try it on?”
“Do I ever.” Nora smiled as she slipped the ring on. She held out her hand, manicured fingers splayed. “Oh yes.”
“Should you start dropping hints to Max?” I asked, grinning at her. “An engagement ring looks good on you.”
Nora glared at me and switched the ring to her right hand. “No thanks. We broke up anyway.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”