Chapter 8

Harley

That suit, that fucking suit. I swear a well-cut suit does to me what lingerie does to men.

John sees me in the kitchen, strides through the café and plants his lips onto mine ignoring everything and everyone around us. “Hey beautiful.”

“John, what are you doing here?” John hands me a rose and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in.

“It’s finally over, all the bullshit, all the long hours. I got the promotion. I was hoping you’d join me in a little celebration.”

I’ve known John for about amonth now, but we’ve only had a handful of dates. Since a new position was made available at his firm, he’s been working his ass off to get it. I’m not sure where this is heading, and I’m not sure where I want it to go, but I start to feel a small knot form in my stomach.

Something’s not right. This is wrong. He’s wrong.

I practically have to force the words out. “Oh wow, that’s great. Sure, where do you want to go?”