As I walk into the office building owned by Flint Hopkins, Attorney at Law, I slow up to see if he’s in this afternoon. Amanda glances up and smiles, but his office is empty behind her. I give her a wave and continue to the elevator, feeling a pang of disappointment that I don’t get to see him.
I unlock my door, disarm the alarm, and flip on the light. “Whoa …” A huge bouquet of flowers sits atop my desk. Dropping my purse on the chair, I sift through the flowers looking for a card that’s not there.
Flint? It has to be. No one else can get in here. I grin, feeling flushed from head to toe. I can’t remember the last time someone sent me flowers. Alex was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a flower-giving guy. At the time that was fine with me because I didn’t think I was the girl who cared if she got flowers. But right now, with this colorful display on my desk, I’m certain flowers are officially my thing.
ME: Thank you.
I stare at the text before sending it, contemplating using a heart emoji or maybe an XO, but I’m not sure if we’re there yet. The last thing I want to do is scare him off with an emoji. I used a lot of heart emojis with Alex; it feels weird using it with Flint. I go with a smiley face and press send.
FLINT: You’re welcome.
It will take a hammer and chisel to remove this grin from my face today.
*
“Hey.”
I look up from the floor, scattered with sheet music I’ve been organizing since my last client left. “Harry, how’s it going?”
“Fine, I guess.” He ambles in like Eeyore.
I grin.
He sighs, plopping down on the floor across from me with his backpack and guitar case. “Except my dad is being weird.”
Stacking the music in several piles to finish sorting later, I grab my guitar and slide the strap over my head. “What makes him so weird?”
He strums a few chords, staring at his fingers. “I don’t know. He was asking me weird questions.”
“What made them weird?”
“He was talking about girls, and we never talk about girls.”
My fingers mimic his on the strings. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No, but I think he’s looking for one.”
My fingers stumble, falling behind for a few beats. “Why do you say that?”
“He wanted to know how I would feel if he met a woman he liked and wanted to invite her to our house.”
Now my heart skips a beat.
“And what did you say?”
He shrugs. “I said whatever.” His nose scrunches as if he just swallowed something bitter. “Well, as long as it’s not one of my teachers or you.”
My heart stops completely as I exhale a nervous laugh. “Has he asked one of your teachers out on a date?”
“I hope not. Simon’s dad has women over for ‘adult time,’ and one time it was one of Simon’s teachers. She got mad at his dad and gave Simon a D in art, which is crazy because Simon had the best pottery design that year. Simon said the D was for his dad, not the art. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
“Well, I don’t give you grades, so …” I have no idea where I’m going with this. So what? So I can date your dad?
“Yeah, but you’re too cool for him.”
I laugh. “That’s true. But your dad’s cool too. He’s a lawyer. He played football in college.”
He’s incredibly sexy and I can’t stop thinking about him.
“His job is boring and he got hurt playing football, so he must not have been that great.”
I change the song and wait for Harry to recognize it and catch up. He stops, stares at my hands while bobbing his head a few times, and follows my lead. The kid is so gifted.
“You know, Harry, everyone has greatness in them. Even your boring dad.”
A deep rumble sounds from the door as I look up to Flint, clearing his throat, arms crossed over his suit-clad chest. My heart goes back into its arrhythmia.
I grin. “Hey.”
“Don’t let me interrupt. I’m just the boring dad.”
My smile grows.
“Shhh!” Harry shoots Flint an evil look.
“Ten minutes, Harrison.”
“Shhh!”
I bite my lips together as Flint shakes his head and leaves the room. I reach for my phone and bring up an app that plays guitar accompaniments. “Find a good match for this.”
He narrows his eyes at the phone, and in the next breath his head bobs and his fingers find the perfect chords.
“I’ll be right back to hear what you come up with.”
He nods or bobs, I’m not sure which one. I take the stairs down to Flint’s office. He’s by the front door to the building talking to someone, I think the optometrist from the office across from his.
I smile at the older gentleman. Flint’s eyes make a slow inspection of me as I take a right turn into his office.
“Elle, I’m going out for dinner and drinks since my husband is taking the kids to a birthday party. I’m meeting a few other girlfriends at the restaurant. You should join us.” Amanda slips on her red jacket.
Flint comes in behind me as Amanda bends over with her back to us to grab her purse out of a bottom file drawer. Goose bumps crest up my arms as his hand purposely brushes mine on his way to his office. “Ms. Rodgers.” He comes close to making me orgasm just by saying my name.
Fiery embarrassment burns my cheeks.
Amanda turns, cocking an eyebrow at Flint and then at me. “It’s warm in here again.”
“Goodnight, Amanda,” Flint calls from his office.
Her mouth twists into a knowing smile. “Night, Boss.”
I risk a glance at her.
“Would it be correct to assume you have other plans tonight?”
I don’t look at Flint, that would give us away, but I’m certain it’s too late to act discreet. “I don’t actually.”
“No?” She stares at me for a few seconds before glancing over her shoulder at Flint. His head is down, focused on his computer screen.
“So you want to join us?”
“Um … sure. I need to finish up a few things.”
“Fantastic. I’ll text you the address in about an hour when I find out where we’re meeting.”
“Sounds good.” I wait until I hear the front door to the building close with a sharp click before moving one inch. “The flowers are beautiful.” I take slow steps into his office.
Dark eyes track my moves as he leans back in his chair, interlacing his hands over his abdomen. “I’m glad you liked them. They’re from my greenhouse.”
My feet stop. I think my heart takes a brief pause as well. He didn’t make a phone call and spew off his credit card number. He cut each flower and arranged them in a vase—for me.
Reality is a bitch. We’re not untethered, young twenty-somethings with the world as our playground. We’re a decade past that with jobs, responsibilities, pasts, and a child who doesn’t want us to be together.
I smile—it feels painful—as I move past him to the window behind him. The last of the leaves rain down with a gust of wind. “Harry said you had a discussion about girls. He seems to be fine with you having a girlfriend as long as it’s not one of his teachers…” I turn and lean against the window ledge “…or me.”