And Grant was right about the weight. He had added extra, and it was because he had something to work through.
Namely a certain blond wedding planner who seemed determined to haunt his every waking thought despite the fact that he didn’t even know the woman.
He finished his reps, panting as he sat up and holding out his hand for a towel. Grant was now adding dance moves to his song, so Seth leaned down and fetched his own towel.
“Hey, did you see that email from the Sydney branch?” Seth asked. “About the check-in touch screens being shit.”
Grant stopped “dancing” and motioned to Seth to move before he folded his lean, six five frame onto the bench, making it look uncomfortably small.
“The screens aren’t shit. The people are.”
Seth stared down at him. “That’s what I get? This is what I pay you for?”
Grant wiped down the bar before tapping his temple. “This. You pay me for my big-ass brain.”
Seth rolled his eyes. But Grant’s claims about his big brain were, in fact, annoyingly true—Grant had started at the company as a college intern, just like Seth, and had been promoted to CIO a couple of years earlier by Hank, who in a very controversial and widely criticized decision had passed over older and more-seasoned candidates to give Grant the position. Lucky for Grant, Hank had never given a damn what people thought or said about him. “You sound like a douche.”
“Impossible,” Grant said solemnly. “You’ve always cornered the market on douche bag. I can’t bear to take it away from you.”
“Such loyalty,” Seth said.
“Right? Okay, but seriously, dude, you are extra pissy lately. All your bad vibes are harshing my mellow. What’s up?”
“Harshing your mellow? Really?”
His best friend pointed a long finger at him. “Don’t change the subject. Speak.”
Seth crossed his arms, half wanting to tell his friend to shut the hell up, half wanting to unload some of the tension that had been hovering around him ever since Maya had dropped her getting-married bomb.
A tension that had only increased once Seth had realized that he had a serious boner for the Barbie-esque wedding planner who was not at all his type, and yet who he hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about in the week since he’d seen her.
Brooke Baldwin.
Even the name was bubbly.
Grant gave a knowing laugh. “Oh damn. I should have figured it was a woman that’s got you tied up in knots.”
For once, Seth wished his best friend didn’t know him quite so well. It was bad enough that he and Grant had been able to read each other from the moment they’d been assigned as science partners back in the fifth grade.
Most of the time he was grateful for having his best friend working just a couple of floors below him in a corner office nearly as impressive as Seth’s. But right now, when Seth wanted nothing more than to brood in silence over his sister’s marriage to a gold-digging playboy, and maybe, just maybe, fantasize about a hot blonde with a fantastic rack . . .
“Oh, come on,” Grant persisted as he took a slug from his water bottle. “You can’t get that look on your face and then not spill.”
“I can,” Seth replied mildly. “Seeing as we’re no longer thirteen, eagerly counting the days until we get to touch an actual breast.”
“Speak for yourself. I touched my first tit at twelve.”
“You did not.”
“I did. Crystal Perkins, remember?”
Seth snorted. “You keep trying to sell that one, but I refuse to believe it. She was a year older and hot.”
Grant lifted a finger to gesture over his tall, fit physique. “Chicks dig this.”
“Yeah, now. But back then you had braces, acne, and walked like a newborn foal.”
Still, Grant had a point. Women did seem to go crazy for him. Somewhere around twenty he’d grown into his tall frame, going from awkwardly lanky to athletic and ripped thanks to a rigid workout schedule. Add in a crooked smile, messy reddish-brown hair, and light brown eyes that his more besotted female fans deemed gold, and Seth’s best friend was pretty much a bona fide ladies’ man.
It was annoying as hell.
“Whatever, man,” Grant said good-naturedly. “You going to tell me what your deal is, or what?”
Seth rubbed the towel over his face and relented. “Maya’s getting married.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Grant’s mouth dropped open. “You’re shitting me.”
“I wish,” Seth muttered.
Grant leaned forward slightly, arms resting on his