Laia is clearly a hopeless romantic. That explains the wholesomeness I admire about her. I’m not sure I want to say anything more to challenge her idealistic view of love.
“Well, Laia, you might be right. Let’s agree to disagree.”
Laia nods. “As I said, it was kind of you to offer your help with my romance, but I think it’s better if you don’t.”
“I understand. Our opinions on relationships are abysmally different.”
Laia nods. “They are, indeed.”
We glare at each other, and the air between us becomes dense.
Or at least, so it feels to me. It’s like the particles are loaded with the intensity of our gazes, and they float around us with tiny sizzles.
I’d probably keep staring at Laia in silence, but she interrupts me by peeking at her watch. “Devon, it’s getting late. Do you need me to help you with anything else?”
“No, you’re free to go, if you want.”
I don’t really want her to leave, but it’s Friday evening, and Laia must be anxious to get the heck out of the office and do…well, whatever is that she does in the evenings.
“Okay, thanks.” Laia sighs with relief. She pivots to her desk and fidgets with her keyboard until her screen goes dark.
Curiosity flares in my chest about Laia’s plans for the weekend, but, luckily, I’m sensible enough to stop myself from inquiring about them.
“Okay, then have a great weekend,” I say, and meander back to my office.
It’s time to get back to my own life. I have better things to do than just chitchatting with my assistant. Especially since she clearly dismissed my offer to help her.
Pete has invited me to be his wingman on a double-date dinner. The girl I’ll need to entertain is supposedly hot.
Once in my office, I lie down on the sofa.
From the corridor, I can hear the sounds of Laia’s shoes. I listen to the rhythmic clicks trying to imagine what she could be doing.
Now she’s going to the kitchen to wash her mug. Now she’s back. And now she must be picking up her bag and tidying up her desk. The noise reaching my ears sounds like pencils shifting back and forth in a pencil holder.
Shortly after, there are clicks on the floor again, signaling that she’s on the move. The thuds get fainter and fainter, telling me Laia must have left for the elevator.
I sit up and pull my cell phone from my pocket.
I have no idea why, but out of the blue, I’m no longer in the mood to go out. I don’t want to show a good time for a woman I’ve never met, even if she looks like Heidi Klum.
A long night in a club doesn’t tempt me either—which, knowing Pete, would be the unavoidable continuation of our soiree.
I compose a message.
“Hi, pal. Let’s take a rain check for tonight. Some important work stuff came up. It’ll take my whole evening. Greet your new friends from me. Catch you next week, Dev.”
I hit send and put the phone away.
It’s superfluous to ponder about why I’m deserting Pete. My buddy will do well without me. He might even thank me later for the double pleasure package my absence granted him.
Besides, it’s not like Pete never bails on me. He refused to come with me to the car show on Sunday. And I even got a ticket for him from Vanessa.
Does Laia know there’s such a cool event in town?
Maybe I should’ve offered her Pete’s ticket. Like a gift, from one aficionado to another aficionado.
I shake my head and stand up.
Well, that ship has sailed anyway. I didn’t mention the show to Laia, so she might or might not be there.
Chapter 19
(Laia)
“Remind me again why we’ve been standing in this boring line for over an hour now? It’s Sunday, and it’s hot. Why don’t we go to the swimming pool instead?”
It’s Chelsea’s third attempt to dissuade me from buying us tickets to the Phoenix Car Show’s Special May Edition. First, she said we should get a mani-pedi instead, and shortly after, she proposed an impromptu visit to the mall.
As if any of these options could be mentioned on the same page as the thrill of seeing Audi showcase its RS 6 Avant, their dashing Euro-wagon.
I quickly count the number of people in front of us.
Forty-six. Not that bad.
“Don’t worry, we’re almost at the counter,” I console her. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Did you know that you can test drive anything you like?”
Chelsea stares at me as if I’m an alien. “Why didn’t you bring your brother instead of me?”
Yes, Luis Miguel would have been more enthusiastic company for sure. Both of us got infected with my father’s love of cars, so he would be excited about this event.
“He’s still in deployment overseas. But I think you’ll like this show, too.” It’s my job to instill a sense of anticipation in Chelsea, so I ponder what might convince her that I’m not subjecting her to torture. “There will be cute guys who are good with their hands.”
Chelsea grins. “Now that’s more of an argument for your case, but”—she glances at her watch—“I’m meeting Howard for dinner. Will we get home in time? I need to do a proper waxing.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course. The show closes at six. Your skin is already hairless anyway.”
Chelsea smooths her miniskirt and blinks at her long, lean legs. “Yeah, most of it. But I need all areas of my body to be spotless. Who knows where tonight will lead, right?” She wiggles her brows at me.
I hold up my hand. “I don’t need to hear this. Anyway, you barely know the guy, Chels, and he’s your supervisor.”
Chelsea purses her lips, then shrugs. “He likes me. I like him. Also, we are mature adults. We don’t need to be soulmates to hit it off.”
She sounds just like Devon.
My chest tightens as I recall his disillusioned view of relationships.
Usually, I feel sorry for people who don’t recognize the importance of love, but in Devon’s case, my emotion was different. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the way he spoke.
Not that it should be any of my business whether he wishes to be one person’s true love or a paramour to many women.
“OMG, is that our CEO over there?” Chelsea squeaks and points behind me.
I grab at her arm and push it to her side without turning my head. “It’s impolite to point at people.”
“It’s really him, Laia. Look,” Chelsea insists.
I whirl around.
Oh goodness, it is Devon.
The odds of him showing up weren’t unfeasible, given that we share a passion for potent engines and propulsion dynamics. Did I fantasize about running into him at this event?
No, absolutely not.
Or perhaps just a little. One fleeting thought when I picked my favorite flowery blouse and paired it to my best-fitting blue jeans instead of my comfier pants.
This is the first time meeting Devon outside of the office, and I’m taken aback by how different he looks.
Correction, different and same.
He has the same stubborn jaw, the same muscular legs, and the same broad shoulders, but he’s wrapped his chiseled muscles into a jeans and polo shirt combo that makes him appear very approachable.
Apparently too approachable, because before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself waving at him.
Devon notices me and gives a dazzling smile.
“He’s coming to speak with us,” Chelsea whispers and grabs her lipstick from her tiny clutch purse. She applies it to her mouth with brisk strokes.
“What are you doing?” I ask, keeping an eye on Devon.
“There’s no harm in freshening up. You want some?” She holds out the bright red color to me.
“Shouldn’t you spare your good looks for Howard?” My phrase comes out a bit too hissy, almost as if an insecure, covetous creature had control of my vocal cords.
Chelsea doesn’t miss it. “Hey, Laia, is that jealousy I
hear? Don’t worry. I withdrew my claims on Devon the moment I realized he wasn’t interested in me. That’s the biggest turn-off I can have. But you, girl, why are you all tense? Is there something you’re not telling me about our dashing boss and you?”
“Sshhh, be quiet,” I hush as Devon enters into earshot distance.
Chelsea gives me an I’m so going to squeeze you about this later glance but stops her inappropriate interrogation.
“Hi, ladies.” Devon greets us with a smile that’s friendly and flirty at the same time.
Maybe I’m just projecting flirty into his gesture, though. Because of the way the breeze tousles his hair and because his teeth glisten unrealistically white.
“Hi, Devon. What a surprise to see you here,” Chelsea purrs beside me, and I almost kick her knee for sounding so sensual.
Isn’t she planning on hooking up with Howard tonight? Then she should stop imitating Beyoncé’s timbre.
“Well, I love cars as much as Laia.” Devon winks at me, and my knees almost buckle.
“You do? Interesting.” Chelsea squints at me, and I can see how she observes the teased ponytail I spent over twenty minutes creating.
“Do you also need to buy tickets?” I ask, hoping that my voice doesn’t sound too excited.
As my brother would say, it’s no Valhalla if I get to stand in the same queue as Devon for a couple of minutes.
Devon’s forehead creases. “I already have my entry cards. I happen to know the PR manager of the venue, and she slipped me two free VIP passes.”
Though he doesn’t put an accent on the she, I can’t stop myself from wondering whether he and the venue’s probably gorgeous PR have a history or not.
“Two passes?” Chelsea chimes in. “So, are you here with someone?”
This time I’m thankful for Chelsea’s big mouth because I was curious about the same thing but wouldn’t have dared to ask.
“Nope,” Devon shrugs. “It seems I don’t know any fellow car lovers except for my assistant.”
“So why don’t you give your free pass to Laia then?” Chelsea asks with an innocent smile.
I burst into a fit of coughing from the saliva I just choked on when hearing my friend’s blunt proposal. What is she even thinking?
Devon’s brows arch, and he throws me a worried glance.
Chelsea pats my back, while she continues to lay the groundwork to whatever diabolic plan she’s come up with. “Laia has been raving about this show for weeks, but the tickets were sold out online. I’m not even sure we will get one standing in this line so—”
I manage to gain back control of my lungs. “Nonsense, of course we’ll get tickets.”
Devon’s eyes bounce between Chelsea and me. “I’d be more than happy to give you my free pass, but I fear I only have one extra ticket, so I’m not sure…”
Chelsea waves. “That’s no problem. I’m not a car lover anyway. Laia can go in with you, and I can head home to prepare for my date.”
I turn to Chelsea. “But you aren’t meeting Howard until eight. Don’t you want to come and see the show?”
“Howard?” Devon furrows his brows. “As in Howard Wright from accounting?”
I clasp my hand to my mouth.
Why did I need to out my friend’s private life like that? Devon might be dressed casually, but he’s still the CEO of the company we work for.
Chelsea throws daggers at me, probably recalling how Devon explicitly stated that he doesn’t like to mix work with relationships.
“Yes, it’s that Howard,” Chelsea answers.
“You know it’s against the rules, right?” Devon says, but his voice doesn’t sound particularly troubled by the prospect of an intern dating one of his managers.
Chelsea, however, takes his question as a call to war.
I wince as I see the challenging glimmer invade her eyes. My friend has a way of getting cheeky whenever she thinks someone is questioning her unjustly.
I try to poke her to remind her that she should keep cool, but she leans forward, and my fingers grip the air.
Chelsea puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at Devon. “Howard and I have a dinner plan together, that’s all. Whatever happens between us won’t impact our collaboration at work, I promise. There won’t be any intervention needed, like with your ex-assistant.”
This time I aim correctly, and my thumbs lands between her ribs.
“What?” Chelsea throws me a half-guilty slant. “I just heard some rumors.”
Of course she did. I spilled the beans to her about my chat with Fanta and Katja.
Chelsea flashes a smile that says I’m mortified if I stepped on his toes, but he deserved it. “I’m not saying that any of the gossip is true, but I’m hoping Devon might grant Howard and me a break as long as we don’t create drama at work?”
Devon’s jaw quivers as if he’s gritting his teeth, then his eyes flick to my face. An undecipherable emotion washes over his face but dissipates quickly.
He blinks at Chelsea and clears his throat. “Well, as it so happens, I’ve been pondering my strict rule concerning relationships at work. I might need to be more tolerant. So, yes, as long as you and Howard don’t create problems for the other employees or our business, I don’t see an issue with you meeting outside work.”
Chelsea grins. “Perfect. Thanks so much. I’ll tell Howard tonight. I think he’s been reticent, because he feared he might get fired.”
“Chels,” I whisper.
Chelsea giggles. “Sorry, too much information. Anyway, I’ll leave you to enjoy this spectacular car show. Together.”
I would like to pinch her for the emphasis she put on the last word.
But Chelsea pivots away and strolls toward the parking. After a few steps, however, she looks back. “I almost forgot. Laia, are you okay with taking the bus to your sister’s? Or shall I leave the car for you?”
“No, I’m fine taking—”
“I’ll take Laia wherever she needs to go after the show. Don’t worry.”
My eyes dart to Devon.
I want to protest about his generosity. He really has no obligation to drive me around, just because I can’t afford my own vehicle yet.
But Chelsea accepts his offer on my behalf before I can utter a word. “That’s so nice of you, Devon. Thanks. You’re a great boss. Have fun!”
After announcing the words that tie me to Devon for the duration of the show and beyond, Chelsea sashays forth.
“You have a perky friend,” Devon says.
I roll my eyes. “You’ve no idea.”
“Do you mind that she accepted my ticket and my offer to chauffeur you around?”
His expression is slightly timid, as if he actually fears I will say yes. This unexpected vulnerability is disarming, especially because he tops it with a lopsided, boyish smile.
“No, I don’t.” I shake my head. “Both are awfully nice of you to propose. I’m excited about this show. Chelsea might have exaggerated about us not getting tickets, but without a pass, it would probably take another hour before I could get inside.”
“That would be a shame. I don’t know if you heard, but Audi is on a wagon jag. They brought their e-tron Sportback to Phoenix. It’s all-electric. It might not have the elegance of the R8, but I’m dying to check it out.”
Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “Me too!”
“Well then…” Devon fetches the two silver VIP passes from his back pocket. “Let’s go admire all the new models, shall we?”
We saunter to the entrance, side by side. To anyone watching, we have to look like a couple. It isn’t even the fact that such an idea occurs to me that startles me. Rather that it carries an astonishing giddiness that makes me smile like I won the Karma Revero GT—the highest prize in the drawing at the show.
Oh, boy, I think I’m moving into dangerous territories this afternoon…
Chapter 20
(Devon)
“Look, here’s the RS 6! Let’s chec
k it out!” Without realizing what she’s doing, Laia grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the Audi’s wagon shimmering on a rotating stage to our left.
My skin lights on fire where her fingers touch me.
I follow her, keeping my arm stretched in just the perfect angle so her pull is neither too hard, nor too easy. I’m afraid if I tweak our contact in any direction, she might release me from her grip. For some reason, I want to enjoy our physical connection as long as it lasts.
If we weren’t at the car show, I’d ask myself what this strange attraction means, but we are here, and the salesman has already zeroed in on me.
“Welcome!” He dashes forward, flashing an all-teeth smile. “Are you interested to learn more about this special wagon?”
The guy is a young fellow with freckles on his fleshy nose and perfectly styled hair. He might not appear old enough to buy a beer in a pub, but I know I shouldn’t dismiss him as a greenhorn based on his puffy cheeks and hairless face. A big player like Audi would never let flunkies run their booths at an event like this.
“Ah, yes. We absolutely are,” Laia replies instead of me.
Her happy-go-lucky gleam warms my heart.
We’ve spent the past two hours going from one stand to another, exploring redesigned models and futuristic car concepts.
In the beginning, Laia seemed intimidated by my presence. She strolled quietly beside me. But as time passed and the sights distracted her from whatever was holding her back, her eyes started to sparkle with that exceptional glint that makes her face irresistible—wholesome and darned sexy at the same time.
As I throw a side-glance at her, my pulse picks up the pace despite my best judgment.
“That’s fabulous news.” The salesman, whose name tag reads Richard Cleve, grins. “The RS 6 Avant has been a forbidden fruit for us Americans for many years.”
He jumps into his pitch, his glance ostentatiously set on my face even though it was Laia who answered him.
“In the past”—he points at the car—“if you found this model, it was either a custom-built or black-market shipment from Europe. But in only a month, Audi will start to roll out this gem in our country too. Want to take a closer look?”
Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Page 14
