he handled his car well.”
Lachlan with that stick shift in hand came to mind, performing hook turns like a seasoned rally driver. I nodded. “He did. But that was the last thing on my mind.”
“He’s even sexier in person than in his photos.”
“That’s probably the testosterone you’re smelling,” I said.
I washed my hands and headed into my bedroom, dying to free myself from the world’s ugliest dress. I unzipped it, and it thudded to the floor.
“What are you putting on?” Harriet asked, kicking the hideous gown into a corner.
I held up my favorite pair of gray sweats. “Comfy loungewear. It’s going to feel like silk after being trapped under that scratchy fabric all night.”
She rolled her eyes. “Andie, come on. Lachlan Peace is in the living room looking like a sex god, and that’s what you’re changing into?”
“He’s only here because tonight’s been really strange. That’s all.”
She rummaged through my dresser then pulled out leggings and a T-shirt. “Here, put these on. At least show off some curves.”
“No fucking way. Are you kidding me? This is me at home. Besides, he’s my boss. I’m not going to go all seductress.”
“Seductress is a bit of a stretch. A tight shirt without a bra wouldn’t hurt, though, would it?” She reached up to my bun, which was so full of styling products and bobby pins, I doubted my hair would ever be the same again. “Why don’t you wear your hair down?”
She removed the pins, and my hair tumbled down my back. I rubbed my tender scalp as I glanced in the mirror. “Thanks for the suggestion. This feels so much better already.”
We joined the men in the living room. They were watching basketball and seemed to have fallen into the TV.
Lachlan looked up at me and did a double take. His eyes widened. “Wow. Where did all that hair come from?”
“From our Irish granny. She was a redhead,” said Harriet.
I fell into the recliner beside the sofa and took a deep breath. What a night.
“You’re not having a beer?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I said, “We’re all out of expensive champagne.” I looked at Harriet and giggled. The most expensive we ever got was ten-dollar prosecco.
“Well then let me arrange a delivery for you.” Before I could protest, and with Harriet egging him on with her enthusiastic nod, Lachlan had an app on his phone ready to go. “Moët?” he asked me.
Harriet answered for me. “That would be lovely.”
“Hey, look… you don’t have to, really,” I said.
He tapped away on his phone and then looked up at me and smiled. “Consider it done. Should be here within fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later, a knock came to the door.
When I opened the door, I found the poor delivery guy panting.
He placed a box down on the ground, and Lachlan tipped him with a one-hundred-dollar bill, which put a big grin on the boy’s face.
“Wow… there’s enough here for a party,” Harriet said, laughing.
“I have to work tomorrow.” I looked at my boss-turned-party-animal, now sipping on the Corona that Josh had given to him.
“It’s only early. A glass or two of champagne shouldn’t harm,” Lachlan said with that killer smile.
Harriet popped the cork, and we filled our glasses.
She looked at Lachlan. “Are you going to join us?”
“I’ll stick to beer. But hey, knock yourself out,” he said, looking over at me with that soft, lingering gaze.
Was he seeing me as a woman for the first time? Or was I just reading too much into it?
It was fun kicking back and having a laugh. I’d almost forgotten the car chase but not being carried up the stairs. How could I forget that? My thighs still tingled from where his strong hands had been. I had to keep reminding myself not to crush on my boss.
Lachlan, meanwhile, made himself at home. He stretched his long legs and sat back on the sofa opposite me.
“So what do you do, Josh?” he asked with that velvety voice that traveled down to my core like a form of vocal cunnilingus.
As Harriet’s boy babbled on about being a DJ, I just drifted in and out of that twilight zone that only expensive champagne and devilishly handsome men could deliver.
8
LACHLAN
I rubbed my back where the sofa’s springs had dug in. As I lifted my stiff body, a little voice roused me out of my haze.
“I’m a ballerina.” A small golden angel smiled back at me.
“Hello,” I said, combing back my hair with my hands. “And who might you be?”
“I’m Ava. I’m