Page 31 of The Most Perfect Wrong

Well, that’s one way to get out of a situation that’s starting to blur lines.

“I’ll come with you. I should get going too,” I say, glancing at my watch.

“Oh, you got a hot date?” she teases.

I chuckle softly. “Not exactly.”

I gather my stuff, and we head to the elevator. She’s antsy as we wait for it, checking her watch, like the one-minute wait is too much.

“You in a hurry to get somewhere?” I ask, raising my brows.

She looks over at me. “Sorry, I just didn’t realize the time, and it's an hour later in New York. I really want to talk to Brad.”

I don’t buy it. She felt something at that table. I know she did—because I felt it too. Now, she’s running from it, which I can respect. She’s doing the right thing. But it doesn’t mean she didn’t feel it. “Can I drive you home?”

She takes a deep breath. “No, I’m good. I’ll call an Uber.”

“Cooper, I’m not going to let you take an Uber alone. You’ve been drinking, and I feel it’s my responsibility to see you homesafely. Please. As your boss, I’m asking you to let me drive you—for liability reasons.”

“You’re not my boss… And you’ve been drinking too.”

“Not your direct boss, but close enough. And I can hold my liquor—takes more than a drink to get me buzzed.”

She sighs. “Fine. You can drive me. But I have to stop on our floor to get my coat and the rest of my things.”

“That’s okay. So do I.”

We ride down in silence, the air in the elevator growing thicker with each passing second. When the doors finally open, we both rush out, heading in different directions to grab our things.

We meet back at the elevator and head down to the parking garage. Once we settle into my Range Rover, I hand her my phone so she can enter her address. It’s only a little over a mile away.

“Are you bringing anyone to the Christmas Party tomorrow night?” Cooper asks.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

I furrow my brows. One thing I’ve noticed about Cooper over the past few weeks—she’s nosy. Never shies away from an uncomfortable or personal question.

“Just don’t have anyone I’m interested in bringing,” I say, shrugging.

“Well, why not? Do you even try to date? Are you on all the apps?”

“Jesus, Cooper. Can’t you just ask normal questions?”

“What? I can’t ask why you’re not dating?” she presses.

I change my voice, mocking a friendly interview. “Hey, ‘What’s your favorite movie, Ryan?’ My favorite movie? Why, thank you for asking, Cooper. My favorite movie isBorat. ‘Why?’ you ask. Well, because I can’tnotlaugh my ass off whenI watch it.” I turn to her with a grin. “What about you? What’s your favorite movie?”

She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed. “Fine. My favorite movie isThe Devil Wears Prada. I don’t know why, I just like it. And I’ve never seenBorat, but it looks dumb.”

“See? Not so hard to ask normal questions. AndBoratis not dumb. It’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, that was fun. Thank you for that profound insight,” she shoots back. “Now… why don’t you date?”

“Why do you care about my love life, anyway?” I ask, forcing a casual tone. The last thing I want to do is explain the fucked-up reality of my life right now.

She leans back, watching me. “I don’tcare,I’m just… curious. You don’t strike me as the ‘forever single’ type.”

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