Page 98 of Not Fooling Anyone

I extract myself from the bed as carefully as I can, shutting off the alarm on my phone, and slip on my shorts. I eye my shirt that’s still on her. God, I love seeing her in my clothes.

I head out to my car, glad I grabbed my go-kit before I left my house, and give myself my shot, stowing everything away again in the back seat before I return to her.

I lock up the apartment, pulling her sheet and blanket over us as I join her in bed, loving how she instinctively curls into me in her sleep. Yeah, I could get used to this.

And though I promised we’d go slow, I’m already dreaming of the day when we’ll be like this every night, her in my arms as we drift off.

Things are only going up from here.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

LEXIE

“So this is your dashboard.”I point to the top of Marty’s screen from over his shoulder. “It’s an overview of everything going on in the business.”

“Like a car dashboard,” he says.

“Um, right.” If that’s how he needs to relate to it. “Over here is where you track your income and expenses. That’s what we’re mainly using the software for. But it also has a lot of cool features. We can create reports on cash flow or profit and loss, generate financial statements with the press of a button, and organize everything into different tax categories.”

“How much are all these bells and whistles costing me?” he asks suspiciously, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

I return his hard stare, not intimidated by him. “You think I’d choose a software that’s going to cost you an arm and a leg? Trust me, I’m the queen of saving money.” It was a necessary skill with hardly any money coming into the house growing up. Mom could never hold down a job for long. “The basic accounting software is free. The company only makes money if you set up payroll with them or by charging a percentage if customers pay an invoice generated through the software.”

“Hmm.” He leans back in his chair, swiveling toward me. “You did good, kid. I like it.”

Though I knew I didn’t technically have anything to worry about when he asked me to show him my progress, it’s still nice to hear praise. I get the sense he doesn’t give it out often.

“Thanks. I’ve been coming in on Wednesdays lately to work on everything, but I’m looking for a second job, too.” Kate’s Kitchen had a help-wanted sign in the window when I passed by earlier. I’m going to go there tomorrow and apply. “So I might be in here on a different night. I’m not sure what my schedule will be yet.”

He nods, considering me. “As long as you get it done sometime during the week, I don’t care what day it is. Now that you showed me this dashboard thing, I can check up on what you’re doing whenever I want.”

Right. He doesn’t seem like the micro-managing type, but we’ll see how it goes.

I wander over to the office window, looking out at the ring in the corner of the room. Ethan’s in there with my dad, dodging blows and practicing his footwork.

“I heard my dad put together some fights for the guys,” I comment. “How do you think it’ll go?”

“They’re all good kids,” he says, joining me. At what age do you start referring to everyone younger than you as kids? “We’ve got some real contenders. My nephew there, for one.”

He points to the hulking guy Ethan was practicing with last week, in the other ring with Steve, his blond hair wet with sweat around the temples.

“What about Ethan?” I ask, unable to help myself. I’m not sure what I even hope the answer will be. I want him to do well in whatever he tries if it’s important to him, but there’s also a part of me that wishes he would focus his interest elsewhere. I don’t want him ending up like Dad.

“Great work ethic. Quick on his feet. Good at adapting to the situation and understands the sport. But he doesn’t have the fire.”

I look over at him questioningly.

“That soul-deep burning in his gut to prove himself,” he explains. “To win. He doesn’t need it the way some of the other guys do.”

“So you think he won’t win?”

“Oh, he still could. He’s improved a lot in the last year. We’ll see how next week goes.”

He returns to his desk but I stay at the window, watching Ethan, admiring his intensity.

The past two days have been amazing, his arm around me all throughout class on Tuesday, kissing me goodbye deliciously outside my Russian Lit class before we parted ways for the day. And then today in our study, it was the first time I didn’t have to pretend anything. I’d wanted to be close to him.

This week’s test had been the perfect day for it, designed to examine how touch stimulates heart rate. I wasn’t ashamed at all for him to see how he affects me, how the way he’d trailed his fingers down my neck in the lab had made my pulse rocket on the screen. I’d wanted him to make my heart race.

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