Page 53 of Right Where I Want You

I wiped sweat from my upper lip. I was starting to regret my long-sleeved shirt. It’d been cold when I’d left my apartment, but the sun was right on top of us now. Apparently, the weather was still making up its mind. “So, did you stay in the city this summer?” Iasked.

“I spent some time at my parents’ beach house in Florida,” he said. “You everbeen?”

I perked up with a fresh topic. “Just Miami. Is that where their houseis?”

“Boca Raton. Did you go forwork?”

“No, a bachelorette party with some girlfriends for aweekend.”

François looked back at me and winked. “Sounds like afiestaI’d like toattend.”

He hadn’t shown much physical interest in me since we’d met outside the four train before the game, so I wasn’t sure how to take his comment. Friendly? Suggestive? Creepy? I didn’t think I’d make it through the rest of the game without a drink, but as he’d pointed out, we’d met in a bar. I didn’t want him to think I needed alcohol to have a goodtime.

I tried to think of something else worth mentioning. Frank had gone monosyllabic when I’d brought up Bruno, and my dog was probably my favorite subject. “On my way here,” I said, wrinkling my nose, “a guy on the subway offered me half an avocado. Isn’t thatstrange?”

Frank smiled over his shoulder. “Subway?”

“I mean, that’s not an ideal place to eat anything, especially avocado. And then to offer mesome?”

“You mean the sandwich place?” he asked. “They offer me avocado all thetime.”

“No, no. A manonthe subway offered mehalf.”

“Oh, got it. Yeah, weird,” he agreed, turning forwardagain.

Weird, yes, but maybe not enough to mention. I should’ve gone with the silence. I had all sorts of interesting work anecdotes and factoids to stimulate conversation, but this probably wasn’t the right audience to inform that magazine covers with the wordclimaxsold better to women than ones withorgasm.

After five minutes that felt like thirty of watching the game, two hands appeared from behind me, one holding a loaded hotdog, and the other a full beer. Condensation dripped over the long fingers of a large male hand attached to a brawny, dark-hairedforearm.

How I knew that it belonged to my frustratingly gorgeous and just plain frustrating coworker, I wasn’t sure. I turned in my seat to meet Sebastian’s amused green-blue eyes. From beneath the shade of his baseball cap, he gave me a megawatt smile, showing off nearly all of his straight, white teeth. “Thirsty?” heasked.

I just stared at him, opening and closing my mouth. “What are you doinghere?”

“I told you I’d needproof.”

Sweat trickled down my temple. I’d already been warm, but with Sebastian’s presence, the afternoon seemed to get a few degrees hotter. “I thought you meant a selfie or something. You said you only go to Soxgames.”

“Did I?” He thrust the food and drink at me. I took it, but only because I’d never been more grateful for a cold beer. “We noticed you weren’t drinking, and that concerned me . . .us.”

At the top of the steps, Justin balanced armfuls of hotdogs and beer. He started to wave and nearly fumbled it all, catching himself at the last second. “Where are you guys sitting?” Iasked.

“Same section as you.” Sebastian gestured a few rows behind us. “What’re theodds?”

Shit. The only thing worse than a boring date was Sebastianwitnessinga boring date. He couldn’t know how bad I was at this, or I’d never hear the end of it. I had to make more of an effort. “This is François,” Isaid.

Frank shifted around in his seat and held out his hand. “Nice to meetyou.”

“Sebastian.”

François lowered his hand. “You’re brave to wear a Sox hat around thisplace.”

I pulled back and sure enough, the Boston Red Sox logo looked back at me. “You can’t wear thathere!”

“I’m not.” Sebastian removed it and dropped it over my hair. “Youare.”

I shook my head hard since my hands were occupied. “Take it off. I wouldn’t be caughtdead—”

“You need it, Keller. You’re starting to look like a stick of cinnamongum.”