First Comes Love - Ashlee Price Page 0,55
and I wouldn’t go if I knew.”
He throws up both tan hands. “Whoa, cool it.”
“Right.” I go to my fridge, rip open the door. Maybe if I find something yummy to bribe Nolan with, he’ll go away. “I’ve had enough of this.”
Nolan trails behind. “I just thought, right now, with all that’s going on, some advice…”
“Is this about Harley?”
Nolan’s grin falters. “I mean, it’s not not about Harley.”
“You fucker.”
“No. Fuck you, man.” Nolan slams the fridge door shut. “You want to date your employee when Storm Media is in a literal bad publicity shit-storm, that’s your business. But you go talk to The Reginald too, at the very fucking least. He knows his shit. You know he does.”
“I’ve got it handled.”
“Do you, though? Greyson, do you even have a plan if this gets out, if your little cinematographer squeeze decides to get pissed at you for cancelling a date and goes public?”
“Don’t call her that.”
“Well?”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“You know that.”
“Yeah. I do. Now back off.”
“So, you won’t see him?”
“Will you get off my case if I do?”
Nolan takes a few steps back, lifts his hands. “Consider me off already.”
I eye him. “When is it?”
“That’s why I came here—it’s tonight. As soon as you can make it.”
“And if I have plans?”
“Dude, you don’t even have food in your fridge, let alone plans.”
I eye him for a minute. Part of me wants to make up some bullshit and send him on his way, just to screw with him. I’ve never liked people interfering in my life. But another, stronger part of me wants to send him away so I can call up Harley, see what she’s up to, maybe even set up another date.
Maybe Nolan has a point. Seeing The Reginald can’t hurt. And I can always walk out if I don’t like what I’m hearing.
“Fine,” I say. “And I assume you’ll want to come with me since you don’t trust me to be able to walk into the big scary office all by myself…”
Nolan barks out a laugh. “Actually, I have… other interests there.”
“Other interests?”
“It’s not always all about you, you know.”
Another glance at my brother and it hits me. “You’re an idiot.”
“What?” Nolan’s already making for the door, his smile unmistakable. “She’s hot.”
I head after him. “If The Reginald finds out, you’re toast.”
A flat look. “Jenny is his secretary, not the mother of his children and love of his life.”
“Let’s just get there.”
Nolan, having insisted on being the one to drive, jokes and fiddles with the radio all the way there. I resist the urge to call up Harley and call off this whole stupid thing. Instead, I shoot her a text:
Thinking of you.
A few seconds later:
—Good or bad?
Why not both?
—Ooh now I’m intrigued. How can it be good and bad at the same time ;)
Guess I’ll have to show you next time I see you.
—Why not now?
Oh, fuck me. Now I have a hard-on.
—You can tell me, if it’s easier.
Vaguely, in the background of my consciousness, I can hear Nolan humming something. A glance out the window finds us still a few blocks away from Reginald’s office. I’ve got time.
I text her: You and me. On the floor of my patio. Outside.
—Ooh I get to see your place?
I freeze. I don’t invite women to my place. We go to theirs or I get a hotel room. It does not happen.
But right now… my slip-up isn’t seeming like so much a slip-up as an actually decent idea. Why couldn’t Harley come over? Just for one time, to see how it would be. Maybe I could even find her a big sweatshirt she could take home…
What the fuck, Greyson?
But I’m already texting her: Tomorrow. I want you there.
—Oh yeah?
I want you everywhere. But there is good. For now.
—Call me. Now.
“Finally. I must’ve hit every red light in the city,” Nolan grumbles, oblivious.
My hands clench as my erection throbs. Fuck me. We’re here.
Nolan’s already halfway out of the car. “You coming?”
No way am I admitting what just happened to him.
“Yep,” I say, leaving the car, and shooting off a final text: Can’t. Sorry. See you tomorrow.
Inside, The Reginald is ready to see me, while Nolan starts chatting up his admittedly hot secretary. Jenny’s got a good figure, but this time for some reason, it appeals to me less than usual. I mean, compared to Harley…
Focus, Greyson.
“Greyson, wonderful to see you,” Reginald booms, both freckly tanned hands coming to clasp and shake mine. “Sorry we had to see each other last time under