Page 54 of Mr. Swoony

“Who said you were invited?” she calls.

“I don’t have anything going on this afternoon. Do you mind the company?”

I hear the breakfast stool slide out from the counter, and she huffs. “You’re not going to like where I’m going.”

“I’m not going for the where, I’m going for the who.”

I throw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I’d love to throw on a baseball hat, but not with my hair wet, so I hurriedly throw some product in my hair, add a spritz of cologne to my neck, and walk back out into our shared space.

“There was no need for cologne,” she says, jumping off the stool.

“Are you wearing perfume?”

She stares at me, expressionless. “Yes.”

“Did you ever think the cologne wasn’t for you, but for others?”

She rolls her eyes while I grab my wallet from the tray by the front door and slide it in my pocket. She hasn’t moved from the kitchen.

“Well, let’s go. I don’t have all day, Lulu.” I purposely use the nickname that I love, but she doesn’t seem too keen on.

She grunts and passes me, a waft of her flowery perfume floating up to my nostrils causing my dick to stir.

We walk out of the security gate, and there’s another Nest sign with a similar note to the one before, addressed to me with the curls at the end of every letter. I tear it off and toss it in the trash as we head to the corner.

“Another letter. You have an admirer.”

“Not the one I want.” I raise my eyebrows, and she shakes her head, but I catch the small smile that plays on her lips. It hasn’t been long enough for her to move on from her ex, but I’m enjoying this flirtatious relationship we’re embarking on.

“What’s it like to be so wanted?” Eloise leads the way, obviously knowing where she’s going, but still yet to tell me.

“You would know.”

A laugh bubbles out of her, and her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow. “I don’t. Trust me.”

“You cannot tell me that men aren’t hitting on you everywhere you go.” I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.

“Maybe I’m unapproachable.” She turns into a building, and I look up to see us entering a café. “I need some caffeine.”

I rush to grab the door for her. “I approached you.”

“Thanks.” She walks to the order line, and we stand together. “You approached me because you’re a fixer, remember?”

I notice a few patrons take second glances at me, but thankfully—because of my goalie mask—I’m not as recognizable as some of the other guys, especially Rowan. That man can’t disguise himself enough. Just in case, and because I don’t want to be interrupted today with Eloise, I tilt my head down and away from those looking.

“Can I call you Lulu?” I ask, changing the subject.

The barista calls us up to place our order and Eloise ignores my question. “White mocha cold brew,” she says, and when they ask for her name, she replies, “Lulu.” She flips around and sticks her tongue out at me before venturing down the counter to wait for her order.

“I’ll have a cold brew, black,” I tell the barista. “Name is Lulu’s sidekick.”

Eloise can’t fight her smile but tries to hide it by pretending to peruse the glass case filled with baked goods.

“Yeah, okay,” the girl says, ringing us up.

I pull out my wallet, but Eloise presses her phone to the POS system, and it dings.

“Why are you paying?” I frown at her.

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