Page 42 of All’s Well that Friends Well (Lucky in Love #2)

Josh’s surprised look confirms this theory, and I do my best to hide my grimace so it doesn’t suddenly seem like I’m frowning at him.

But good grief. What’s wrong with me? Why do I never say hello? It’s not like it’s hard.

So I greet Susan as I pass the HR office, just a brief nod of acknowledgment. When I spot the guy Juliet told me about shuffling tiredly into his cubicle—Dell, whose wife can’t stick to a budget—I say hello to him too, nodding curtly.

“Dell,” I say .

Dell’s eyes go from half-closed with sleep to wide awake, like he thinks I’ve just summoned him to be laid off.

Heat creeps up my neck, and I’m not sure why—embarrassment at the attention people pay when I speak to them? Shame that I haven’t done this before? But I can feel my ears turning red, no matter the reason, and I thank my lucky stars I don’t pass directly by anyone else.

Because I think—crap.

I think I’ll probably need to start greeting people. Just suck it up and open my stupid mouth and speak. The idea puts a bit of a stomp into my step, and it’s with this attitude that I enter my office—only to find something that makes me feel even more irritable.

Juliet is here already, but she’s not alone.

There’s a man with her, close to my age, maybe, and he seems vaguely familiar. He looks up as I enter and gives me a wide, perfectly white grin, pushing golden hair away from his forehead.

“Luca, right?” the man says, holding out his hand to shake mine. “You’re looking better than last time we met.”

Ah. “The cake pan,” I mutter. He was there that day when I first met Juliet. So even though it’s the last thing in the world I want to do, I shake his hand.

“I’m Felix,” he says, still grinning good-naturedly at me. There’s a large cardboard box on my leather sofa, and Felix gestures at it. “I just came to help Jules carry some stuff.”

Juliet beams at him, a million-watt smile I almost miss because the name is still ringing in my ears.

Jules. He called her Jules.

“You know you’re always welcome,” she says now, laughing and swatting him playfully on the arm. He catches her hand, twirls her around like they’re dancing, and then pulls her close, tucking her under his arm and squeezing. She yelps with more laughter, and he laughs too, and I?—

I throw up in the back of my throat.

“Sorry,” I say through gritted teeth, because I think my jaw is clenched so hard it will shatter. “Remind me how you two know each other..?”

“Oh,” Juliet says, extricating herself from Felix and stepping away.

Then she gives him a Vanna White flourish with her arms, gesturing to him and saying, “Like he said, this is Felix. He’s my brother’s friend.

So we’ll call him…” She trails off, her eyes darting to Felix, and then she nods. “A very close friend of the family.”

I glare at her for a second, specifically at the spot where she’s now looping her arm through his. Then my eyes fly up to hers.

“You’re stooping very low, Miss Marigold,” I say. I edge past the two of them and wrinkle my nose at the unfamiliar scent of cologne that’s masking Juliet’s strawberry shortcake. Then I round my desk, dropping my briefcase unceremoniously on the floor.

Juliet lets go of Felix and waltzes to the other side of the desk, right across from me, and hops up to sit. Her skirt is gray today, slimmer than the pink, and she has on some sort of short-sleeved turtleneck that does incredible things for her figure.

“I’m positive I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” she says innocently as she twists her upper body to face me.

I snort, and from next to the couch, Felix does the same.

“Of course you don’t,” I say, the words flat. My gaze darts to Felix. “I’m sure you’re great and all, but you should go. I need to have a chat with my assistant. ”

Felix exhales roughly, running one hand through his hair. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “I only take orders from Jules.” He shoots her another grin. “You understand, I’m sure.”

“Ooh,” Juliet says, leaning closer to me. She points to my face, her eyes brightening. “Are you jealous?” Then she turns back to Felix. “I think it worked,” she says eagerly. “He looks jealous, doesn’t he? Here, come put your arm around me again, and let’s see what happens?—”

“Enough.” I’m standing before I realize it, feeling like the stupidest man in the world. Because I know what she’s doing. I know she’s trying to figure out how I really feel, seeing if I’m jealous—and even knowing these things, I’m still letting her get to me. “That’s enough.”

Felix’s grin slips away into something more genuine—a suppressed, knowing smile. “I’ve got to head out anyway,” he says to Juliet. “I need to call your sister and beg forgiveness for everything I just did.”

“She gave you permission,” Juliet says with a laugh, but Felix shudders.

“It still feels wrong,” he says, and he’s already tugging his phone out of his pocket. He looks over his shoulder on the way out and waves at me. “All tricks aside, it’s good to see you again, man. Jules is great. Be nice to her or we’ll?—”

“Felix,” Juliet hisses, waving her hands wildly to shoo him out of the room. He laughs, a carefree sound, and then slips out the door.

And I’m left with the little menace sitting on my desk, the sower of chaos looking at me with big blue eyes and golden hair cascading down her back.

“You were jealous, right?” she says brightly, leaning toward me. She adjusts her position so she can face me more easily. “You looked jealous. That means you like me, Luca.”

I pull my glasses off and scrub one hand down my face. “You’re unbelievable,” I mutter. “At what point did you decide that charade was a good idea?”

“I thought it might be enlightening for you,” she says immediately, not at all repentant. “To show you what you could be missing, or what it would be like to see me with other men. But you didn’t like it, did you? That means you’re jealous.”

“I’m not a caveman, Juliet,” I say, keeping my voice patient even as my pulse pounds angrily in my veins. “You belong to yourself. You can flirt with anyone you want.”

“I can now , sure,” she says with a nod. “But if you and I start dating, that won’t be the case, will it? I wouldn’t want you acting like that with other women.”

“The audacity,” I breathe faintly, and yet even as the words leave my mouth, a laugh tries to force its way out too. “Never do this again, Miss Marigold. You are banned from trying to make me jealous.” Because it worked, and I feel like an idiot.

Juliet hums, looking suddenly serious. Then she holds up her hand. “On my honor, I promise that I will never try to make you jealous again.”

I clear my throat. “Thank you.”

“However,” she goes on, and I almost groan. “I would like to address a previous ban I was given. You said I wasn’t allowed to wear your clothes ever again. Is there room for negotiation on that?” Her eyes drop to wander over my button-down. “Because I think that shirt would look great on me.”

The picture unfolds in my mind before I can stop it: Juliet stretched out sinuously on my bed, dressed in this shirt, legs bare, hair streaming over my pillow?—

“If we’re going to discuss personal issues in the workplace,” I shoot back, trying desperately to banish the image, “maybe we should talk about how many men call you Jules. ” I eye her as her brows jump in surprise. “Is that a name everyone uses?”

“Some people do,” she says, leaning closer as a grin hooks her lips. “But I like it best when you say it.” She pauses as I squeeze my eyes shut. “You could call me something else, if you wanted.”

I can already tell where this conversation is going to lead, and I do not have the strength to take that path.

“ Sweetheart ,” she says before I can change subjects. “Or honey . Or—I don’t know. I’ve never loved the name babe, but I might not mind it coming from you?—”

“ Miss Marigold. ”

“Yes, lover?” she says immediately. She slides off the desk and whirls around, leaning all the way over until her face is right in front of mine, her eyes bright with humor and delight, her lips curved. “Yes, sweetheart? Honey? Baby?—”

I act without thinking, without any consideration at all.

My hands fly up before I can stop them, one clamping over her mouth as the other slides around her neck and cradles the back of her head.

I glare down at her, my pulse picking up as my mind spins with the incessant sound of her voice calling me things like lover and baby .

When I speak, my voice is rough. “Stop. Just— stop talking. ”

And for one breathless second, her gaze clashes with mine, her eyes wide with surprise. I try to let go of her, because I must be out of my mind, but I can’t quite stop my hands from trailing to her cheeks, to cup her jaw—to drag my thumb over her lower lip, the slow tug of her pink kiss.

I’m not even breathing. My breath is trapped in my chest, my pulse whooshing in my ears, and the only real thing in the world is my touch on her lips.

“Just drop it,” I manage to get out, my gaze stuck, perhaps forever, on her mouth—my thumb still resting there, probably smudged with lipstick.

“I’ll drop it,” she says faintly, and I can feel her breath on my skin. I don’t dare move, because I’m worried if I do, it will only be to lean closer and kiss her. “I’ll drop it,” she repeats, “if you promise to think about your feelings when you see me with someone else.”

“I’m already thinking about it,” I growl, my hands tightening where they still cradle her jaw.

Juliet’s eyes drop to my lips. “Excellent,” she whispers, her smile growing. “In that case…”

She pulls away abruptly, straightening and smoothing her hands down her clothes. Then, adopting a perfectly neutral voice, she says, “If you’ll notice, I’ve made a few changes to your office space.”

“I—what?” It’s all I can get out while my brain scrambles to catch up, my pulse pounding in my veins. When I’ve finally pulled my thoughts away from her and to my desk instead, I find her changes at once. I sit back down, slumping into my chair as my heart continues to race. “What’s that? ”

“It’s a sun lamp,” she says promptly as we both look at the large, screen-like contraption sitting in the corner of my desk. “You get no natural light. You can use this thirty minutes a day.”

“I—okay?—”

“And here,” she goes on without waiting for me, “is your new water bottle.” She produces it out of nowhere, a giant forty-ounce bottle in deep blue. There’s a sticker on the side that reads I love my assistant.

I look incredulously at the sticker. “Where on earth did you get that?—”

“I’ve had it for a week,” she says. “I’ve just been looking for somewhere to put it. Now,” she goes on sternly. “You need to drink this entire bottle of water every day. Every day, got it? The whole thing. You don’t drink enough water, and it’s probably affecting your body more than you realize.”

Considering Rodney tells me the same thing, she’s probably right.

“It’s definitely part of the reason you’re so tired all the time, for one,” she says. “But I also have a bottle of melatonin for you. You should take one every night before you go to bed. It will help you fall asleep.”

“I’ll try the melatonin, but I don’t know if I can drink that entire thing in one work day,” I say, looking skeptically at the water bottle and then at her again. She’s speaking so normally right now, while I’m still trying to catch my breath.

“You will,” she says with a bright smile, “or you’ll face dire consequences. I’ll kiss you. Right here, in this office, I’ll put on my pinkest lipstick and kiss you.”

My pulse leaps, but I just raise my brows at her, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms. “That sounds like harassment, Miss Marigold.”

Her eyes sparkle as she looks down at me. “I think what you mean is Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miss Marigold. ”

My lips twitch, but I don’t answer.

“If you truly want me to never ever kiss you again, just say the word,” she begins, but I hold one hand up .

“That won’t be necessary.” Something strange is happening to me right now, a sparkling flame jumping in my chest, fed by every word we’re exchanging.

The feeling began the moment Felix left, and it keeps growing, expanding—an electric buzz in my veins, a fire licking my insides, and I don’t want it to stop.

Whatever dance this is, the give and take, the back and forth—I want it.

I want more.

“You’re trouble,” I find myself saying, the words hoarse, broken.

Juliet hums, looking thoughtful. Then she rounds the desk and hops up to sit exactly where she sat the first time we kissed.

“But the good kind of trouble, right?” she says with a tilt of her head.

“The kind of trouble that shakes you out of your status quo but ultimately leads you down a better path?”

“I…don’t know,” I admit, because my mind is fuzzy. “Some kind of trouble, though.”

“If you’re going to call me trouble,” she says, “I insist on being the good kind. I’m sorry, but I won’t accept anything else.” She raises her brows expectantly at me. “So?” she prompts when I remain silent. “What am I?”

My heart pounds in my chest. “My assistant.”

She rolls her eyes, just like I knew she would. “What else?” she says.

“My—friend.” I stumble over the word, but it sounds normal enough.

It’s met with another eye roll, though, this time accompanied by a pout. “Fine,” she says, crossing her legs. “What else? ”

My breath whooshes out of me as something light and amused rises in my chest, almost giddy. “Trouble,” I finally say. “ Good trouble.”

She sniffs and tucks a few locks of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she says primly. She smooths her hands down her skirt again and then hops off the desk. “Now, are you ready to see your new schedule?”

“Yes,” I say. Then, pausing as my gaze drops to her mouth, I add, “But you should fix your lipstick first.”

Because I won’t be able to concentrate until she does.