Page 13 of For You & No One Else (Say Everything 3)

Beckham put his hands out at his sides. “His first question for me was if you were as hot in real life as you look on your YouTube channel.”

Her lips parted slightly, a startled look on her face. “Oh. That’s, uh…forward to ask someone’s coworker.”

He sniffed. “That’s one word for it.”

She tilted her head and crossed her arms. “What’d you say?”

“What?”

She shrugged. “What’d you tell him?”

Was she seriously asking him this? He scanned her expression.Yes, yes she is.

“I assume you had an answer,” she said. “Like a good office mate, did you tell him of course I was and he should definitely be looking forward to the date?”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “I told him I don’t use YouTube.”

She huffed. “Well, you’re not a good liar. Who doesn’t use YouTube?”

“I don’t,” he said, annoyed now. “Or social media or any of that stuff.”

Her brows arched. “Wait, seriously?”

“I work in cybersecurity. I know how vulnerable information is online. I try to be analog where I can. Plus, it’s the more…”

“Interesting choice,” she filled in.

“Something like that.”

“Huh.” She seemed to be processing the revelation. “Is that what the obnoxiously loud keyboard is about?”

“It’s not ob—It’s a mechanical keyboard. Better for typing because of the tactile and auditory feedback. It keeps your hands… Never mind.” He stopped there. He could feel himself getting defensive and nerdy about his keyboard. Now was not the time. “You’re going to be late for your date. And he doesn’t seem like a very patient bro.”

Her eyes scanned his face. “Wow. Youreallydon’t like Ryan. You sure he didn’t say anything else? Should I be worried or something? I mean, beyond the normal worry a woman has to have going on a date with a stranger?” Her tone had gone serious. “Asking you if I’m hot is one thing. That’s mild compared to the crap that gets dropped into my dating app DMs. But if you think he’s, like…dangerous, then you need to tell me.”

Beckham wanted to sayYes, don’t go, but what concerns did he really have? The guy seemed like a smarmy asshole, not a serial killer. Why should he care if the dude was going out with Eliza? ThatRymay end up in her bed tonight? His fist curled against his thigh. Not. His. Business. Nope. Not at all. “No, he didn’t say anything else. Just…well, you’re a therapist. I’m sure your radar is finely tuned. You don’t need me to tell you to be careful.”

A little smile touched her lips. “I don’t, but I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Of course.” He gave her a wry look. “You better go. He’s probably pacing downstairs watching reruns of your YouTube videos to psych himself up for the big night.”

She glanced toward the elevator. “Meh, let him wait.” She turned back to him. “But I really do need to make those notes.”

Beckham gave a quick nod. “Have a good night, Eli. Hope the boat is real, but if not, save Fluffy from the basement, okay?”

She gave him a look he couldn’t read. “Yeah, thanks. Night, Beckham.”

He slipped back into his office before he said anything else, before he asked if she’d rather grab a burger with him and to hell with giving Ryan her night. He couldn’t offer her the husband and family thing, but he could damn well show her a good time. He closed his door and raked a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for getting involved and for caring at all.

He needed to stop this. He had no reason to be so annoyed that Eliza was going on a date with that guy. He didn’t know her, not really. Maybe Ryan was just her type. Maybe they’d be perfect together. Maybe she liked smarmy and pretentious. Maybe they’d fall in love, get married, and have smarmy, pretentious children named Brioche and Ciabatta. Or maybe she was just going out to have a drink, get laid, and never call the guy again. It wasn’t his business.

He plunked back down in his office chair and stared at his sleeping computer screen, but didn’t get any work done for the rest of the night.