Page 22 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“It’s holding the vendor contracts hostage. It says ‘PC Load Letter.’ I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means it hates you.” I reach past her, my chest brushing her shoulder, and open the paper tray. I jiggle the stack of paper and slam it shut. The machine whirs to life happily.
“There,” I say. “You just have to be firm with it.”
Tessa looks at the machine, then up at me. Her hazel eyes are bright, flecked with gold in the harsh office light. “You have the magic touch.”
“I do,” I murmur, letting the words hang between us. “I have a proposition for you, Ms. Hartley.”
She stiffens slightly, her guard going up. “A proposition?”
“Lunch.”
“I brought a sandwich,” she says immediately. “Turkey and Swiss. It’s very exciting.”
“Turkey and Swiss is a tragedy, not a lunch,” I counter. “I’m going to Perla’s. I need a second opinion on the launch party appetizers. And since you are the expert on all things ‘brand experience,’ your input is required.”
She narrows her eyes. “Is this actually about appetizers? Or is this you being bored and wanting an audience?”
“Ouch,” I laugh. “I can be two things. But seriously, Tess. We need to talk about the launch. We’ve been avoiding each other all week.”
“We haven’t been avoiding each other,” she lies. “We’ve been working.”
“We’ve been dancing,” I correct her. “And I’m getting dizzy. Come on. One hour. Strictly business. I promise I won’t make a single inappropriate joke.”
She bites her lip, considering my offer.
“Strictly business?” she asks.
“On my honor as a company founder.”
“Okay,” she sighs, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “But if you make me late getting back, I’m blaming you when Ethan yells.”
“Deal.”
“I’m driving,” I announce as the elevator doors slide open to the cool concrete of the parking garage.
“Of course you are,” Tessa replies, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. “Let me guess. A Porsche? A Ferrari?”
“A Tesla,” I correct, clicking the fob. My sleek black Model S in the corner chirps, the retractable handles sliding out automatically. “We’re a tech company, Tess. We have to stay on brand.”
I open the passenger door for her. It’s a gentlemanly gesture, but I use it as an excuse to watch her. I watch the way the green dress rides up her thighs as she slides into the low leather seat. I watch the way she tucks her legs in.
“Nice interior,” she says as I slide into the driver’s side.
The car usually smells of sandalwood and leather, but suddenly, it’s drowning in her. That dark, sweet scent is everywhere. It’s intimate in here. Too intimate.
“It drives itself,” I say, tapping the destination into the massive touchscreen.
“Which is good, because I’m barely awake,” she admits, leaning her head back against the headrest. “Ethan said you guys have been sleeping in the office.”
“Ethan is the office,” I sigh, backing out of the spot. “He doesn’t understand the concept of rest. He thinks sleep is a bug in the human operating system that needs to be patched.”
“And Asher?”
“Asher sleeps,” I say, merging onto the street and letting the car handle the stop-and-go traffic. “But only in twenty-minute bursts. Like a dolphin. Or a psychopath.”
Tessa laughs. It’s a real, unguarded sound that makes the tension in my chest loosen slightly.
