Page 6

“Okay, tell me more. What does he do?” she asks curiously, studying my face as if she’s trying to figure out how I feel about the whole situation.

The problem is that, right now, all I feel is anxiety. This was a question I was hoping to avoid. Knowing Emma, the minute I tell her, she’ll put the pieces together. Even if I deliberately left out his last name.

I look away from Em and pick up a portfolio from my desk, flicking through its pages in hopes that she will miss my answer. “He’s a hockey player,” I mumble just above a whisper, keeping myself busy from seeing her reaction.

It’s quiet—too quiet. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head as she solves the puzzle. I can feel her stare heating my face, but I don’t dare look up.

I can pinpoint the exact moment it registers by the sound of my stapler falling from her grasp and hitting the floor, followed by her sharp intake of air as she stands abruptly. “YOU WENT ON A DATE WITH SILAS HAYES!?”

“EMMA! Be quiet!” I look out the glass walls of my office into the open space, hoping we didn’t catch any unwanted attention. As luck may have it, there isn’t anyone in sight.

My best friend sits down in one of the two client chairs facing my desk, leaning closer to me. “You went on a date with New York City’s sexiest hockey player and didn’t think to tell me right away!?” she whisper shouts.

“I’m sure that’s not entirely correct,” I say, blushing. Although in my personal opinion, it’s very probable. Silas is in a league of his own.

“Okay, you’re right, all of them are panty-dropping worthy!

” She waves a hand in the air in dismissal.

“But Hayes is just... ugh!” Emma says with a dreamy sigh.

“Now stop being a smart ass and tell me everything ! What’s he like?

Is he as hot in person as on TV? Tell me he smells like sex!

Give me something here, woman, before I melt into a puddle on this very seat from my imagination alone. ”

She dramatically pretends to faint in said chair, sprawling sideways, legs hanging off one armrest. Her head hangs off the other with the back of a hand resting over her forehead, while the other hangs limply to her side. If you haven’t figured it out yet, my friend’s a bit over the top.

I’m about to answer when Steve, one of our co-workers, barges into my office. “What are we talking about? I heard shouting, and you know I need the scoop!” He raises a brow and smirks.

Emma sits up properly in her chair and offers me a mischievous grin. “Our dear friend Cece had a date with big boy Hayes last night, and she was just about to give us the deets,” she says probingly, daring me to defy her demands.

Steve gasps theatrically, a hand covering his gaping mouth. “Oooh! This, I want to hear.”

He rushes over to the available chair next to Emma and motions me with a gesture of the hand, indicating to go on. They both lean forward simultaneously, placing their elbows above the desk, heads held in their hands. These two are somehow always in sync.

Rolling my eyes at them, I say, “There’s not much to say; we had a good time, had dinner, talked, and that’s it. And smells like sex? Really, Em? Oh, and while we’re at it, can we stop referring to him by his last name? It’s... weird.” I scrunch my nose at how detached and impersonal it sounds.

“Mmm, I love a man who smells like sex,” Steve says with an exaggerated sigh, closing his eyes like his mind is taking him back to a faraway memory, only to open them swiftly seconds later.

“Okay, okay! Aside from the boring details, anything”—he waggles his brows in what I presume is meant to be a flirtatious gesture—“interesting happen that you haven’t mentioned? ”

Before I can even think of how to answer, more like avoid the question, a throat clears from the open doorway of my office, making us all look in the direction of the new presence. Amanda has her shoulder propped against the door frame, legs crossed at the ankles, one arm folded over the other.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” she says with authority lacing her voice, one eyebrow raised.

My two co-workers stand abruptly and scurry out of the room. I watch as Emma gives me the stink eye through the glass panel and mouths, “We’re not done here.” Then she walks in the direction of her office.

I bow my head and give it a little shake, smiling to myself. Saved by the bell. Or shall I say, boss.

I turn my sight back to my boss, who watches me quizzically. Amanda may seem intimidating most of the time, but she’s actually amazingly sweet. A fierce pit bull with a heart of gold and always sensationally fashionable.

Her black pumps are mostly hidden by a green wide-leg formal jumpsuit, the color reminding me of Silas’s eyes. Her platinum-blonde hair is perfectly slicked back, ending a few inches above her waist.

“So...” she starts. “I heard you went on a date?”

“Ugh! Not you, too!” I let my head fall back into my leather chair and look up to the ceiling, wishing I had called in sick this morning.

She pushes off the frame, laughing. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to you later,” she delivers with a wink, then turns and leaves.

It seems I wasn’t saved after all.