Page 23 of Not Safe For Work

Ian picksme up an hour later, but instead of heading downtown, we drive to the airport.

He’s taking me shopping in LA.

CHAPTER EIGHT

OLIVIA

When Friday morning comes,I am most definitelynotready. I’m not ready to see Ian and even less ready to spend the day pretending to date Gavin. I’m barely even ready to leave the house on time because I can’t seem to decide how to wear my hair.

I refuse to wear it in a bun anymore. I’m done caring how anyone else wants me to look, and I hate pulling it tight anyway. But then I wonder if I keep it down how much it’ll whip me in the face on the back of Gavin’s bike.

A braid. Yep, I’m officially a genius. Or an idiot for taking thirty minutes to come up with that idea.

“Liv!” That would be Gavin banging on my door. I answer it even though I’m still in sweats.

“Hey, sor—hello! I’ll be ready in a minute.” He’s been calling me out on every “sorry” I’ve said since the other night. I had no idea how much I said it and I’m actually thankful for his persistence in helping me stop. What the hell am I so sorry about, anyway?

“I like the braid,” he comments, giving it a little tug. I’ve gotten slightly more used to him touching me in the last twodays and I may or may not have had a very explicit dream about his hands last night.

“Well, you said the bun made me look uptight,” I quip.

“Nah. All the blazers make you look uptight.” He grins back and I wonder if he’s right. My work uniform has always been based on the saying “dress for the job you want, not the one you have.” Though considering I want Gavin’s job and I’ve never seen him in so much as a collar, I may have been doing it wrong. Just a little more of Ian’s influence I need to shake off.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he continues. “You should wear whatever you want. You just look a lot more comfortable like this.” He touches me again. A little pull on the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Well, I’m not wearing this to the off-site. This is what I sleep in, Scottie.”

“You look good to me.” He gives me a full once over and another smile tugs at his lips. It makes one tug at mine too.

“Just give me a minute so I can figure out what to wear, okay?”

I walk into my room where several outfits are already laid out on the bed. Only one includes a blazer. Since my apartment is basically a studio, my bedroom only has three walls and Gavin follows me in.

“I like these,” he says, his hands combing through the dresses on my hanging wardrobe. My closet is tiny, so I built a rack on one side of the room for my dresses. I havea lotof dresses. When I was younger, one of the reasons I was so set on moving to the city was so I could dress up, be fashionable, stand out. I grew up with a mom who wore overalls seven days a week and I refused to follow in her footsteps. Fashion has always been my favorite way to express myself.

Little did I know that leggings and a vest were suitable for a night out here in San Francisco. But I still love my dresses,especially the sequined ones and anything with a bow. I may have limited occasions to wear them, but I still collect them like rare artifacts.

Gavin moves to the bed and peruses the outfits laying there like he’s a judge at an art show. He picks up the black silk slip dress and runs the fabric through his hands. “I really like this. Might be a bit fancy for playing bocce ball though.”

I grab the dress from him and lay it back down. “This is for tomorrow. I have to go to a charity event.”

“Need a date?” he asks. He’s obviously joking. The truth is I would love to have a date, but there is no reason I can come up with to make him join me. It’s probably for the best, since my whole family will be attending.

“No one from work will be there. You’re off the hook.”

He almost looks disappointed as he grabs a pair of jeans and a sweater off the bed. “Wear these,” he says. “I’ll wait outside so you can have some privacy. And bring your camera.”

“You scared?”Gavin asks, clipping my helmet on. He’s already secured my purse and camera bag under the seat.

“No,” I say, grinning ear to ear. “I’m excited.” I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and I grew up riding dirt bikes and four-wheelers with my brothers. But I’ve never had a chance to ride on a motorcycle. Gavin’s sex appeal also rises ten notches every time I see him on the bike. The man can really rock a helmet.

“Thatta girl.” He gently squeezes my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Just follow my lead and you’ll be golden.”

He circles my block twice at ten miles an hour so I can get used to the feel of his bike before we get on Bay Street and head toward the bridge. He still hasn’t told me why we’re leaving so early. It’s only ten-thirty and the off-site starts at one o’clock.

“Tighter,” Gavin says when he turns back to me at the first stoplight. He grabs my hand and pulls it further around his torso. “Don’t be shy, Sparkles.”

I squeeze my arms around him as we speed forward again. To my disappointment, we’re not going very fast, and I don’t anticipate we will at all. It’s a beautiful Friday with clear skies all over the bay. I’m sure all the tourists will keep the roads slow the entire way to Sausalito. But even though my safety isn’t a concern, I keep squeezing.

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