Page 45 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Uh…fine. I can’t talk, though. I’m at—”

“Work. Got it. What time are you off?”

“Five, but—”

“Great. Text me the address. I’ll pick you up. See you, Lo.” He hung up.

What the fuck?

I texted him,Pick me up?

Thumbs-up emoji.

My pulse raced double time. This was…different.

But not bad.

I texted the address, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I cast a quick glance around the store, wondering how bonkers everyone would go if a mega A-list celebrity walked in. It had happened a couple of times, but no one as unilaterally popular as Pierce.

I’ll be there at 5 in an unmarked black Suburban. Look for Raul.

That answered that question.

I started to slip my cell into my pocket, my heart hammering against my rib cage, but at the last second, I typed,Give me a hint.

He responded with a shh emoji.

That deserved a middle-finger emoji.

He laugh-emojied me, which made me laugh and of course, Mrs. Hirschfield noticed and asked about my new beau. And what could I say?I think I have a crush on the same man half the population does.Yeah, right.

But Pierce didn’t text half the population. Just me.

Okay, I didn’t know how many other people he texted. Maybe he was bored and wanted a dinner companion. Or maybe he was full of shit, and it was a booty-call invitation after all.

I was totally okay with that.

* * *

At five o’clockon the dot, I petted Benson good-bye, bade Connor farewell, and headed outside to look for my ride. It should have felt kind of glamorous to hop into an unmarked vehicle chauffeured by an expressionless six-foot-five wall of man, but it reminded me of mafia movies where some dumb schmuck gets in a car with the big boss to have “a little chat,” only to be found floating in the East River at dawn.

But we were in LA not New York, and while Raul was intimidating, Pierce was surprisingly…not.

“Hi, Lo. I got you a pumpkin spice latte.” He pushed a to-go cup into my hands as soon as I buckled my seat belt. “How was your day?”

“Uh…I—thank you, my day was good.” I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Where did you get a pumpkin spice latte in January?”

“I have my ways.” He waggled his brows playfully, then pointed at the cups in the holder between us. “I also bought an extra plain latte if you’d prefer. I needed a shot of caffeine, and I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

Crap.I was staring and I couldn’t help it.

He was so unexpected with his boyish smile and confident swagger. Pierce dominated every space he entered. My apartment had never seemed so small until he’d filled it with his broad shoulders and easygoing charm. He was larger than life, yet he moved in subtle ways.

Right now, for instance, he lounged on the supple black leather interior of a tricked-out SUV with a minibar and a privacy screen—one arm on the console between us, the other resting on his thigh, his fingers casually grazing the seam of his dark jeans. There was nothing overtly sexy in the maneuver, but I was jealous of that seam.

I tore my gaze away and sipped my latte, hoping to settle my nerves. Maybe Pierce wasn’t mob-boss scary, but I was suddenly ultra-aware of my luxe surroundings and this sinfully handsome man.