At a loss, I nod soberly at her. “Okay.” It’s not a promise to take her words to heart; it’s not agreeing with anything. Just an acknowledgment that I’ve heard her.

She and I finish the bottle of wine in silence. I still think she’s being paranoid. Whatever happened between her and Hayden, it poisoned the well pretty damn good. But where did that contamination come from in the first place? From her or from him? Sometimes breakups are nobody’s fault at all. Without hearing the whole story, there’s no way for me to know how much weight to give Roxy’s warning. Even a first-year law student knows how much personal bias can distort a testimony.

I shake my head with a wry sigh; I’m already thinking about this in terms of depositions, evidence, and judgment. I should just unplug my brain entirely, turn the conversation to lighter things, and enjoy my impromptu night off. And tomorrow, I may even ask Hayden when we can hang out again.

I’m not going to stay away from my friend just because his bitter ex told me to. I’m a grown-ass woman; I can handle myself, even with a guy like him.

But I still can’t uproot the tiny seed of doubt that Roxy has planted.

Chapter Nine

Hayden

It’s five thirty on Saturday, just like we agreed, when I tromp down the stairs toward Emery’s place. I spent the day going over a proposal Hudson put together for a luxury condo building in Malibu. We’ve never owned anything on the coast before, but along with its sweeping ocean views, it boasts a hefty price tag too. Who knows, it may be worth it. Mostly, though, I spent the day glancing at the clock and wondering what Emery was up to while I waited for our non-date to roll around.

When I reach her door, it’s already open. “Hello?” I peer inside, not seeing her.

“Come on in,” she calls from somewhere inside.

Although one of the smallest models, it’s a nice unit, done in neutral colors¸ and with its tall ceilings and large windows, it feels a lot bigger than it is. I step across the wooden floors, my gaze cutting over to check the kitchen, then the living room with its sleek modern decor. Both are empty.

“Emery?” I call out, wondering what’s going on.

“In here. Just finishing up.”

I peek around the corner and see her. She’s standing in front of the mirror at her bedroom dresser, and though she’s facing away from me, I can see her reflection. She’s putting on earrings and it’s so simple, nothing really, yet I’m transfixed by her.

Dressed casually in jeans and a white tank top, her outfit says this is not a date. But the earrings she’s taking the time to put on tell me that she wants me to notice her as a woman, even if she’s said she doesn’t. This small act signals she’s every bit as aware as I am that there’s sexual chemistry simmering under the guise of our platonic state. When she turns to face me, her nipples are hardened into two little points, and the dangly gold earrings catch and shimmer in the light. But mostly it’s her nipples that I notice because, goddamn, her tits are perfect. A nice, perky mouthful.

“Ready?” she says, her voice soft as she stands there looking at me.

“Yeah.” I almost groan as I turn for the door. I’d rather cross the room toward her and toss her down onto her unmade bed. Something tells me we could have a lot of fun between the sheets. Or on the floor. Or in the shower. The image of Emery’s creamy skin slippery and wet makes my mouth water.

I use the drive to the restaurant to point out landmarks and celebrity hot spots to Emery. I keep forgetting she’s new in town. For some reason, it seems like she’s been here a lot longer than a week.

Sunflower Grill is little more than a counter with a chalkboard menu for ordering and a small cluster of tables outside on the sidewalk. Which is good. This isn’t a date, and it doesn’t feel like one. Being here with Emery actually makes me wonder when the last date I had was. A long damn time ago, apparently, since I can’t even remember. We order our food, each paying for ourselves, and then grab a table outside in the shade.

“How was week one on the new job?” I ask once we sit down. We’ve both ordered bottles of beer, and I’m glad to see her health kick doesn’t preclude her from indulging in alcohol.

“It’s actually been really good. I’m working on real cases, drafting briefs, and researching precedents. I get to work directly with the attorneys, and there’s a nice girl about my age named Trina who I’ve been having lunch with.”

I nod and take another sip of my beer. “That’s awesome. So you like it then?”

She chews on her lower lip. “Yes and no. My boss, Larry The Creeper . . .” She takes a long swig of her beer before continuing. “All week felt like a game of cat and mouse. I tried to avoid him while he doggedly pursued me.”

“What do you mean pursued you?”

“He wants in my panties,” she says matter-of-factly.

I can’t stop my lip from curling in disgust. “How old is this guy?”

She shrugs. “Sixty? Give or take.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, agreed.”

“Did you tell him to fuck off?” I see our server approaching with our food from the corner of my vision.

“No. My hands are tied. It’s a long story, but basically that’s the fastest way to lose your job. And I can’t lose this job.”

I growl out a curse. “That’s bullshit, but I get what you’re saying. Will you let me know if it gets any worse? I’ll think of something.”

She nods, her gaze tender and locked on mine.

When our food is delivered, I poke at my portabella mushroom cap burger, weary of this experience anew.

“Just try it. It’ll be fine,” Emery says encouragingly as she digs into her own food.

When I see her take a big, unladylike bite of her black bean quinoa burger and end up with a smear of garlic aioli on her chin, it pretty much makes it worth it coming here. She keeps right on talking about her boss, like nothing even happened. Amused, I lean across the table and use my napkin to wipe her lower lip and chin, smirking at her.

“Did I have something?” She touches her lip.

“I got it.”

Now she’s the one smirking. “Thanks.” After taking another big bite of her sandwich, she reaches over and steals one of my sweet potato fries.

I’m about to tell her to have at ’em, because I won’t eat the damn things, when I realize she wasn’t waiting for permission. I like that there’s no tiptoeing around between us, no trying to be on our best behavior to impress the other thing happening. We’re just ourselves, and it’s comfortable. I’m not sure why I’ve never had a woman friend before, but I decide this isn’t so bad.

“So, Emery,” I say, after forcing down another bite of my own meal. “Tell me about this bad breakup you alluded to when we first met.” I haven’t pried about her past, but now feels like the right time to dive into a deeper conversation. We’re full and happy—or least, she is—and we have two fresh beers in front of us, thanks to our server. I lean back in my chair as she fiddles with the label on her bottle.

“Ugh, seriously? You want to know about Asshat McFuckstick?”

I choke on a swig of beer. The poor guy doesn’t even deserve a name . . . he must have done something really bad. “Hit me with it.”

“Well, the first thing you need to understand is that I’m not coming off of one bad breakup. I’m coming off a trifecta. Three asshole douchebags, each one worse than the last. Apparently I suck at picking guys.”

“Lay it on me. It’ll be like therapy.” I have no idea how to help her, but maybe talking about it will prove to be therapeutic.

She takes a deep swig from her bottle. “I might need something stronger than this.”

“Not a problem. My place is fully stocked. We can head back there.”

She narrows her eyes. “Nice try, playboy.”