Page 45 of Ridin' True

“Got shit to do. I’ll pick you up tonight.”

I knit my eyebrows together, palming my keys as I asked, “On your bike?”

“It’s called a hog, darlin’. And yes.”

“Well, I’m thinking maybe I should just meet you there.”

“Why?” he asked with a frown.

“You might be a bunch of bikers, but it’s still an interview. I’m not going to show up like this,” I said, glancing down at myself.

“There’s no need to go all out, gorgeous. Pants’ll be fine.”

“Youwouldthink that. You’re a man. I have every intention of showing up at my best. I’m walking into that meeting as a prospective counsel, not the woman you’re sleeping with. I’m wearing a skirt and heels, and I don’t want to have wind-blown hair, either.”

I watched as a slow smile spread across his face. He then chuckled softly and replied, “Fine. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay. Then it’s settled.”

He shoved his shoulder against the wall, propelling himself upright before he leaned down to kiss me. He didn’t linger longer than a moment, and I tried not to be disappointed when he pulled away.

“Text me when you’re on your way,” he instructed.

“Sure.”

“Bye, darlin’.”

He turned, headed for the exit, and I watched him go. Before I lost sight of him, he stopped and looked back at me. He paused for a moment, and we stared at each other. When he smirked and waved two fingers in a horizontal motion, it was then I understood he was signaling me to go inside. I hummed a laugh, nodded, and closed myself into my apartment.

AfterIgavemyhair a good brushing, I made use of my curling rod, then spent the rest of the afternoon updating my resume. I tried to find any old notes I may have had lying around that had anything to do with corporate law. It felt like I was cramming for a pop quiz I was warned about by the kids who’d been surprised earlier in the day. I knew what I was doing. I had the knowledge, but it didn’t make me any less nervous.

I threw something quick and easy together for a light dinner before I started getting ready. An interview at seven o’clock at night was abnormal, to stay the least, but I decided to stick with daytime makeup to be safe. I wasn’t sure if their current representation was a man or a woman or how they showed up to the office, but I intended to be myself—and I liked to consider myself classy.

I was out the door at twenty to seven, and I hoped that was enough time for me to stop by the office to make copies of my resume. I really needed to invest in a printer. Fortunately, I was in and out—with no one there to stop me—and pulling into the parking lot with two minutes to spare.

Jed was already there, leaning against the front of the building, arms folded across his chest, his eyes pinned on me as I stepped out of my Corolla.

I was halfway to him, my legs carrying me as fast as they could with the little room allotted by my black pencil skirt, when it hit me. My feet, tucked into my lucky beige stilettos, came to an abrupt halt.

“I forgot,” I admitted, loud enough for him to hear me.

“Yup,” he replied, not moving an inch.

“I’m sorry,” I began, continuing my journey across the lot. “I was getting ready, and I was so focused on making sure I arrived on time and prepared, I completely spaced it.”

By the time I was finished with my explanation, we were three feet apart from each other. I stopped and tried to get a read on how significant it was that I forgot to text him when I was on my way, but his face gave away nothing.

“You’re not—you’re not mad, are you?”

He shook his head, but he did it so slowly I wasn’t sure it was an answer to my question. He confirmed this when he said, “Lex, I could walk you up to the clubhouse right now, and I guarantee you we’d find at least two women walkin’ around in nothin’ but a g-string and some high heels.”

“Oh-kay,” I muttered, not at all following.

“I’m just over here tryin’ to figure out how it is you can cover yourself up from neck to knee and still get me hard just walkin’ across the parkin’ lot.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of me, and I was quick to seal my lips closed to silence myself. I looked down at my short-sleeved blouse. It was black and tan, covered in leopard print. I debated whether or not print would be appropriate, but I decided a little personality, given my audience, couldn’t hurt.

Apparently, I chose well.