She quickly shakes her head. “No, they’re for a meeting.”
“Yeah, a meeting that will likely be finished by the time we get out of here—you said so yourself. What a waste, and look at us, all cooped up and in need of sustenance and sugar to keep us alive.” I reach for the box, greedily eyeing the contents. They’re not merely the glazed ring kind; they’re the sickly sweet kind, covered in toppings that taste like sin in your mouth.
She sighs deeply, and pink tinges her cheeks. It’s cute. She looks innocent and sweet when she blushes. I like it. “Okay, admission: they’re not for a meeting. They’re mine.”
“All three?”
“Yes, all three. Don’t judge me!” She chuckles and reaches out, pointing to each one in turn. “Morning snack, lunch, afternoon snack.”
Food done right. My kind of girl.
“I’m suitably impressed by your ability to eat that much sugar without going into a diabetic coma.” I grin. “Come on though, let me have one. Just one? I’m starving. How about we Rock, Paper, Scissors for it? You win, you keep all three. I win, and we split them.” I throw her my disarming smile that people usually find adorable. I’m not quitting until I eat at least one of these bad boys; I won’t be able to stop thinking about them all day otherwise. Yes, I am that child.
Lucie groans. “And what exactly am I getting out of it? If I win, I get to keep something that’s already mine, but if I lose, I have to give you my food. Are you high?” She takes the box from my hand and pushes it back into her bag, shaking her head, grinning good-naturedly.
“Ah, but you won’t have to sit here and listen to me whine about it for however long we’re trapped for. Surely, that’s worth it. Come on, Rock, Paper, Scissors.” I hold out both my hands, one closed fist resting on my palm, and wait.
She pushes her hair back over her shoulder and playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, just to shut you up.”
She mirrors my hands, and we thump our fists. One, two, and on three, we throw our shapes.
“Ha!” I crow, leaning over and chopping her paper with my scissors before reaching for the box.
Lucie lets out a loud groan. “The biscotti one is mine. That’s my favourite. You can choose from the other two.”
“Deal.” I flip open the box lid and offer her the contents, watching as she takes the caramel-coloured one. “So, keep me distracted then. Tell me about you. You work here? I’ve not seen you around.” And I certainly would have remembered.
She nods. “Yeah, I’ve been here for six weeks now. I’m an intern, working for David Schuh’s department.”
“Really?” Interesting.
David Schuh runs the children’s publishing division; Patricia, my editor, reports to him. No wonder we were both headed to the same floor.
She nods and takes a large bite of her doughnut, her tongue licking across her bottom lip, collecting the biscotti crumbs that have stuck to her lipstick—and now, I’ve lost interest in my own food and my train of thought. Who knew eating doughnuts was sexy?
I swallow and force my mind back on track. “An intern? Aren’t they usually spotty eighteen-year-olds? How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-six,” she replies. “And me being an intern is a long story.”
I grin and wave my hand around at the stationary lift. “We’re not going anywhere, so we’ve definitely got time. You might as well catch me up, Luce.”
She chuckles, and after some more encouragement and cajoling words from me, she rolls her eyes before proceeding to tell me how she has always wanted to work in publishing but how she fell for the wrong guy. She explains how they split up three months ago after he cheated on her, how she basically had to start over and was lucky enough that her friend got her the intern job here, and how she plans on working her arse off to get the junior editor position at the end of her temporary contract.
I watch her talk, a little fascinated by her drive and a lot fascinated by the fact that her fiancé cheated on her. Is the guy blind or just plain dumb? I’ve spent less than thirty minutes in her presence, and I can already see the appeal she has. If I had a girl like her to come home to, I wouldn’t be looking anywhere else for sex.
“So, pretty crappy couple of months for you then,” I surmise.
“God, yeah, it’s sucked. I kinda wish this year were over with already. I woke up on New Year’s Day and honestly thought this was going to be my year. Oh, how wrong I was.” She chuckles darkly. She nods and looks down at the last doughnut in the box. “Want to split it?”
“Yeah, go on then.” I smile gratefully as she tears the raspberry-iced doughnut in two and holds out the larger half to me. “Thanks. So, you sound like you need a holiday.” As I say the words, a plan starts to form in my head.
This girl is cute and fun—and not to mention, easy on the eye. She’s definitely someone I could spend a weekend with without wanting to kill myself. I’d like to get to know her better. Before today, I all but gave up on trying to find a date to the wedding; it was too late now to find someone—or so I thought. Maybe we could help each other out.
“I wish. I can’t afford one.” She sighs dreamily, sucking jam from her thumb.
Screw it. Just ask, Theo. What’s the worst that can happen? “How do you fancy an all-inclusive weekend break in the picturesque surroundings of Scotland?”
One of her eyebrows rises in question, so I continue, really trying to sell it, “My brother is getting married this weekend up at Loch Lomond, and I have a plus-one. There’s a five-star luxury hotel, a spa, woods to walk in, a national park, water sports, glorious weather predicted, free food, and more importantly, free drink …” I smile hopefully. “Thursday to Sunday. Come with me? I’ll even pay for your flight. Everything’s included. In return, you have to attend the wedding with me as my plus-one.”
“This weekend?”
I nod.
Her nose scrunches. “Thursday to Sunday? Who drags out a wedding for four days?”
“My brother and his perfect fiancée.”
“Uh-oh, is she not perfect? Why the animosity?”
I wish. “No, she is perfect—that’s the issue. I want her. But she’s his.”
Her mouth pops open, and her eyes widen as her back straightens. “Oh, so you want me to make her jealous, break up the wedding? That’s so arseholish, Theo!” She scowls at me, her anger obvious.
I scoff indignantly at her assumption. “No! I don’t want to break up the wedding. I’d never want to ruin what they have. I’ve accepted my fate and moved on. They’re great together. I just want a drinking and dancing buddy, someone to talk to and use as a buffer when people come up to me and say, It could be you next, Theo, if you just managed to get your shit together.” I do a terrible impression of my mum and aunt and pretty much everyone else who judges me and asks when I’m going to settle down and find a nice girl who loves my quirks. Not much chance of that though. There can’t be two girls as awesome as Amy in the world.
Lucie chews on her lip, curiously eyeing me, probably checking I’m not trying some form of a scam or plot to ruin my brother’s big day with her as the secret weapon. “So, you want a fake girlfriend for the wedding?”