Page 50 of Not Dating Material

She cocks an eyebrow, her silent tell when she accepts a challenge, and now I’m looking forward to Saturday even more.

* * *

Me:

You working?

Molly:

I was. And now you’ve distracted me. Bad, Seven.

Me:

Should I leave you to it?

Molly:

Fuck no, where are you?

Me:

Right outside.

Almost as soon as I hear his message tone go off, Molly throws open the office door. He’s got all the windows in the corner room open, flooding it with more sunlight than I usually let in here, and the beams highlight the dust stirring behind his head. The guy looks like a flipping angel.

Until his eyes drop to my torso.

“Some days, I wonder if you’re purposely trying to turn me on.”

I bite back a laugh. “Yeah, until you catch me shaving my balls, you don’t get to claim that.”

He leans against the doorframe and crosses one ankle over the other, his short athletic shorts showing off nicely sculpted, tan thighs.

Molly grunts. “And now you’re checking me out. That’s not fair.”

“You were shamelessly ogling me.”

“You’re shirtless and a foot taller than me. It was right there in my face.”

“Didn’t try to look away though, did you?”

“I mean …” His teeth bury into his bottom lip as his gaze drops back down. “I just really love that tattoo.”

My lips twitch as I mirror him, leaning against the opposite jamb. “When I agreed to date you, I thought you’d be more high-maintenance than you have been.”

“Really?”

“Just from what you said. But so far, I’ve only had thirty-six texts and two random calls, one about a bee you saw outside the window and one about how the knighting system in England works.”

“I was curious.”

“You also have Google.”

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “Too much?”

That’s a hard question to answer. Molly texts like he talks. Every sentence is a new message, all short sporadic bursts, bouncing around in a way that’s impossible to follow but fun to try. So instead of giving him the full answer, I hedge. “Maybe if I was at work, yeah. Or had, I dunno, a corporate job.”

“Okay …” He very obviously catalogs that information, and I’m hit with a stab of something. Something that doesn’t sit right.

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