Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love)

by Agnes Canestri

  Disappointment washes through me as I think about the disastrous ending at breakfast.

  And to think it started out so well.

  I’d prepared a nice meal and managed to steer our conversation to the topic of love without Laia becoming suspicious. But then…

  My stomach hardens as I think how Laia is on her way to meet someone right now. ”Laia has a date in a park this afternoon,” I grumble.

  “A park, huh?” Pete’s tone is beyond suspicious, and I can hear how he’s putting two and two together. “That’s why you proposed this spontaneous jogging to me. Not because you wanted to make up for last night. Also, you usually go to Encanto Park, not Margaret T. Hance Park… It’s all so clear now.”

  “Yeah,” I admit, shame curling through my chest. “I just wanted to take a look at the man who’s lucky enough to spend time with Laia. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

  “Nope. You’re a racehorse, and I hate doing sports with you. Wyatt has gotten you too obsessed with your physical performance, I tell ya. Also, it would be much better for you to go alone. If Laia dislikes playboys, it might not be the best move to bump into her while you’re with me.”

  Pete has a point, unfortunately.

  Also, it’s almost two o’clock. The park is at least twenty minutes walking distance from my building, and with Pete’s usual pace, we might miss Laia and her mystery date.

  “Okay, fine,” I say, determined. “I’ll go alone then. Enjoy your soccer game.”

  “I will. And, you, go and charm that assistant of yours. Unbury all the good boy stuff from deep in your heart, and onto which I helped you toss a thick protective layer, and you should be all set.”

  I smile at Pete’s encouraging words.

  I know he’s sorry I’m quitting our common lifestyle, but I appreciate that he backs me up even if he doesn’t agree with my choice.

  “Thanks! Speak to you later, Pete.”

  I hang up and at the speed of light change into my workout clothes. I sprint down the stairs to warm up my calf muscles. I greet Phillipe at the entrance, then take the road toward the park where Laia must be with the guy I already hate.

  Chapter 33

  (Devon)

  I dash by an old lady dragging a cart for her groceries and a young woman dressed in a miniskirt who throws a dazzling smile at me.

  From the corner of my eye, I check her out, and despite realizing that she’s pretty, there’s not one fiber in my body that would want to stop and chat her up.

  I guess I left my player self behind for good.

  Now my only task is to convince Laia about this, too.

  When the crosswalk light pings, I push my way through the afternoon crowd loitering on the sidewalk and hurry to the other side of the road.

  I don’t know Margaret T. Hance Park well, because, as Pete has so cleverly pointed out, I never jog there.

  I’ve only been there once during a jazz festival. I remember seeing a lovely pathway that goes all around the park and thinking that the tall buildings as a backdrop looked suggestive when the band played. But I have no idea where that big panda Laia mentioned could be located.

  I enter the park, and thick green grass greets me, together with a couple posing for their wedding pictures. I lose a few precious minutes as the photographer set up the camera with a wide-angle, and unless I want to end up in their family album, I need to wait until they take a break so I can pass behind them.

  I peek at my watch. Two-ten. I need to hurry up, or I risk Laia and her date changing location.

  I’m glad for the fluffy clouds that tame the sun’s power to a bearable, almost agreeable level because without their help, I would have arrived at the park drenched in sweat instead of only slightly out of breath.

  My intention is to jog past Laia and her guy without being seen so I can take a good look at him. After that, I could maybe circle around and—

  I freeze mid-thought because a giant bronze sculpture of a mama bear and her cub comes into sight.

  I slow my pace and scan the area.

  I don’t need to look for Laia long.

  There’s only one blanket on the grassy clearing that stretches behind the statue, and it’s occupied by the woman who managed to turn me inside out in less than two short weeks.

  Laia is with a man and two small children. One kid is sitting on her lap and the other on the guy’s knees. The two of them are engrossed in an animated discussion.

  My heart rate picks up, even though I’ve slowed my tempo. It beats so fast in my throat it’s as if I’ve just completed three Iron Man competitions in a row.

  Laia is dating a man who has kids?

  I’m so distracted I don’t realize that my legs keep moving, bringing me closer.

  Suddenly, as if Laia felt my glare, she glances up, and her eyes travel to me. Her face moves into a grimace of utter bewilderment. I think I can even read a shocked, “Devon?” on her lips.

  Her companion turns, and I notice that he’s more or less my age. He has light-brown hair in buzz cut and, as far as I can tell, a rather robust frame.

  The little girl in his arms reaches up to the man’s chin and grabs at it. He encompasses the child’s hand in his palm and blows a kiss at it, but his eyes remain fixated on me.

  I decide to go and greet them.

  I mean, what else can I do now that my spying act is busted?

  I approach, trying for a relaxed three-fingers wave that could demonstrate I’m just as surprised to see them here as they are to see me, while also stating that I’m totally cool about our encounter. Unfortunately, since my entire body is locked up with tension, my movement comes out awkward.

  “Hi, Laia,” I exclaim, determined to make up for the ridiculous gesture with an upbeat tone. “What a coincidence!”

  Laia peers up at me, her dark eyebrows drawn together. “But I told you I would be in this park.”

  The man gives me a narrow-eyed glance. “Who is he, Laia?”

  Ah, so far along in their relationship that the guy feels entitled to know who I am? Has Laia been dating him this whole time, and I didn’t know?

  Laia shifts the small brunette, whose hair color matches the blanket, and raises herself to her feet.

  I notice she’s wearing a delightful orange spaghetti dress that leaves her shoulders bare and flatters her complexion.

  “Brian,” Laia points at me, “this is Devon Griffin, my boss. Devon, this is Brian Smith.”

  Brian immediately jumps up, lifting the child he’s holding to his hip as he straightens. He extends a hand to me. “Oh, I’ve heard about you. It’s a pleasure to meet Laia’s boss. You’ve got an extraordinary girl on your team, I can assure you.”

  He winks at Laia, and she blushes.

  I press my teeth together to stifle a growl. What does this man think? That I don’t know how precious Laia is? I know it much more than he does.

  Since I can’t act on my jealousy, I shake his hand. “Thank you for the reminder, but I know Laia is a gem.”

  My comment earns me a smile from Laia, and her cheeks darken a shade more.

  “So, Brian,” I clear my throat, “are these your children?”

  “Yes, they are. This one”—he pats the cheek of the girl in his arms—“is Sandy and that other trouble maker is Mila.”

  “They’re adorable,” I say politely. Truth be told, the two little monkeys look extremely cute, but the fact that their father is seeing the same woman I desire makes it impossible for me to engage with them.

  “What are you doing here, Devon?” Laia asks.

  Her voice has a suspicious edge, which makes me shift my weight and square my shoulders.

  I point at my sneakers. “I decided to jog. You know, to keep in shape. This park is amazing for a run.”

  “Ah, really?” Brian chimes in. “I thought the trails were better at Encanto.”

  “Are you an expert on running locations?” My timbre comes out slightly harsh, but Brian doesn’t seem
to make much of it. Maybe because little Sandy distracts him by pulling on his ear.

  “I’m sorry it took so long, guys!” A soprano interrupts us.

  It belongs to a short woman who has Laia’s dark hair color and a similar shade of skin. She trudges towards us with both of her arms stretched out and goes straight to the child sitting on the blanket. She picks her up and starts planting kisses on the kid’s neck.

  “Did you miss mommy, Mila baby? Huh, did you?” Then, as if she’s just realized I’m here, she turns to me. “Oh, hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Alicia Flores. And you are?”

  Brian throws a warning glance at the woman. “Ali love, this is Devon Griffin. Laia’s boss.”

  I stare at them, dumbfounded. “Flores? You’re Laia’s sister? And Brian is…”

  Alicia smiles at me. “Yes, my husband.”

  My chest expands with relief, and I’m finally able to hold my shoulders without feeling like an elephant is crushing my trapezius muscles.

  So Laia’s mystery date isn’t really a date…it’s her brother-in-law.

  Best. News. Ever.

  I exercise superb self-control and stop myself from pumping my fist in the air and screaming a triumphant “yes.”

  I beam at Alicia. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  Laia holds out her arms to Alicia. “Want to give Mila to me? You and Brian will never get your list done if you don’t leave now.”

  Alicia and Brian exchange a glance.

  “Are you sure you are up to it, sis? I mean, your boss has just arrived here so…” Alicia gives Laia a questioning glance.

  Laia shakes her head. “Don’t worry, I said I’d watch them, and I will. I suppose Devon needs to get on with his workout anyway, don’t you?”

  She turns to me, and there’s an almost challenging glint in her eyes, as if she’s daring me to either commit to my lie or drop my pretense altogether.

  Before I react, Alicia shoves Mila into Laia’s arms with a relieved smile. “Ah, good. I really must get a haircut, and Brian is in desperate need of some new shirts, but I don’t trust his taste enough to let him go alone.”

  Brian rolls his eyes at his wife’s comment while he sets Sandy on the blanket.

  “I’m glad I can help, sis.” Laia smiles at Alicia.

  Alicia plants a kiss on Laia’s cheek and strokes her daughter’s hair. “We should be back in two or three hours. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring the twin strollers. Otherwise, you could have gone walking. There’s a small doughnut festival further down in the park. I saw it when I came in.”

  A genial idea comes to me.

  “Wait,” I exclaim. “I can accompany Laia to the festival. I can carry little Sandy, so we can taste those treats.”

  “What?” Laia squeaks.

  At the same time, her sister yells, “Excellent idea! I’m always worried about leaving poor Laia alone with our two daredevils. I sometimes can’t handle them alone, and I’m their mother.”

  “But aren’t you here to jog?” Laia asks.

  “I can jog later. Or tomorrow.” I kneel down to Sandy. Now that I know her father isn’t my rival, I’m more than happy to make friends with the chubby munchkin.

  I hold out my hand to the little girl. Sandy smiles at me and pulls on my wrist as if to show that I should lift her up. I follow her orders and straighten with her in my arms.

  “You see? I don’t think I’ll have a problem with your daughters.” I wink at Alicia and Brian.

  Brian chuckles. “Don’t be fooled by their pink cheeks and large Bambi eyes. These two ladies know what they want, and they’ll make you lose your head in a second. All Flores women have this capacity.”

  Especially one.

  I blink at Laia, who stands with her brows furrowed, while Mila is doing acrobatic movements in her arms.

  Alicia and Brian wave good-bye and walk away.

  “Are you sure you made the right trade for your spontaneous workout?” Laia asks with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely. I just hope the doughnut stand has some sweets with mean vanilla cream. Those are my favorites.”

  Laia gives out a bemused snort that could also be a giggle covered up, then nods. “Fine. Then let’s pack up and head over there.”

  Chapter 34

  (Laia)

  “Here you go, sweetheart, two regular doughnuts with chocolate and vanilla dip and two plain, baby-sized ones.” The vendor hands me the scrumptious treats on a tray and tops my order with a friendly smile.

  I get out of the queue and saunter toward the small playground where I left Devon with the twins. It’s nestled in the shade of four giant Indian Rosewoods, and the place is cool enough to safely allow my nieces to explore the play area.

  The sweet fragrance of fried pastry, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of dark chocolate, tickles my nostrils, but despite their typical allure, my stomach doesn’t growl. It sits frozen into a tiny ball that shrinks further with each step I take.

  What is Devon really doing here?

  I know he didn’t forget that I told him I was coming to this park.

  My eyes travel to his wide-shouldered figure. He squats on the grey stone frame of the giant sandbox and waves the twins to approach, while Sandy and Mila trot further away like small, disobedient cubs.

  A smile jumps to my face as I observe Devon’s concerned expression.

  Mila, after a squeaking, “Da-da-da,” plops down and gets busy digging a hole.

  I pause to watch Devon’s reaction.

  The only rule I set for him was to keep the girls out of any burrowing activity before we eat because I couldn’t find any wet wipes in the diaper bag Alicia left me. How will he make the two daredevils respect my instruction?

  Devon’s face contracts into a grimace of frustration as he observes Mila fumbling with the sand. Then he jumps up and rushes to her. He lifts the little troublemaker into the air and, before Mila’s mouth can curl down, he begins to wave her body right and left while puffing loudly like a helicopter.

  Mila’s happy guffaws reach my ear.

  Sandy watches with amazed eyes, then reaches her arms toward the sky, screeching loudly for her turn.

  Devon chuckles, and without lowering Mila to the ground, he picks up her sister too. He secures both of them on his shoulders, engulfing their torsos as if they were two tiny sacks of potatoes and carefully twirls them around.

  I can’t suppress a chuckle.

  I know I shouldn’t be surprised by how well Devon is handling my nieces. As a creative person, he must still be in touch with his inner child.

  However, what astonishes me is the almost unconditional admiration Sandy and Mila show toward Devon after only an hour together. It’s as if Devon’s appeal and extraordinary magnetism on women can be felt at any age—even in toddlerhood.

  I can just take our stroll to the doughnut stand as an example. Usually, Sandy and Mila can’t get enough of me and love to be cuddled by their aunt. But this time, both of them wanted to be carried by Devon, and Devon only.

  When I tried to peel one of them away from him, they began to howl. In the end, Devon wound up toting both kids—one in each arm.

  I can’t say I blame my nieces.

  If it were up to me, I’d love to nestle into those strong, muscular arms and press my head against Devon’s chest to inhale his scent.

  That would definitely unfreeze my belly and spark a potent fire in it.

  I redirect my attention to reality before my brain can embark on a journey to fantasyland.

  “Hey there, guys! I’m back, and look at what I’ve got.” I raise my tray to the girls’ eye level.

  “You see, kiddos, I told you your auntie would return, packed with goodies.” He slowly releases the girls to the ground and pats their heads. “What do you say if we climb out of this sand before you become any dirtier, and I get scolded?” He winks and flashes a boyish I-did-what-I-could smile at me.

  As if I could ever reprimand hi
m for being adorable with my nieces…

  I point at the nearest bench, right below one of the trees. “We could sit there.”

  The twins, persuaded by the sight and smell of sugary rings, toddle out of the sandbox and follow me like two tiny ducklings.

  Devon lingers behind them with his hands stuck into his white shorts’ pockets.

  I settle on the bench, placing the tray on the wooden surface. I forbid my glance to wander to Devon’s brawny thighs, sculpted calves, or the chest muscles that are nicely visible in his tighter-than-usual navy workout T-shirt.

  Instead, I watch Sandy and Mila. They reach past and go straight for the adult-sized doughnuts.

  “No, no, you two little mischiefs.” I lift the treats I bought for Devon and myself. “Those two smaller ones are yours.”

  Mila and Sandy seem slightly disappointed that their sweets don’t have toppings and are only one-third the size of ours, but after a moment of pouting, they pick up their doughnuts and bite into them.

  Devon hops down beside me, and I push the tray back to give him more space. Despite my best effort of shoving the platter to the bench’s extremity, his body lands so close to mine our hips touch. His bare knees graze my own.

  Devon doesn’t seem bothered that we’re squeezed into such proximity. He smiles and asks, “Can I have mine?”

  I hand him his vanilla cream delight.

  He attacks it with a hungry appetite. “Mhmm, this is delicious. I was famished,” he murmurs.

  “Didn’t you have lunch?” I ask.

  “Nope,” he answers between chomps. “Not even breakfast.”

  “What?” I turn to him, which makes my entire thigh press against his warm legs. “Didn’t you eat before I woke up? I thought you said…”

  His eyes fill with a flustered glint. “I might have told a small fib there. I forgot to refill my fridge, so I only had enough ingredients to prepare one meal. And I wanted you to eat, so…”

  Devon preferred to nourish me instead of himself?