Page 4 of His to Cherish
Last week, I decided to do something about it. I figured maybe I could force him to see me as a woman. Hence the heels, makeup, and dress. And the plan to get him out of Hoops—the place where we’ve spent so much time hanging out as friends—and over to somewhere more romantic.
So far, it hasn’t been going great. If anything, Oliver seemed almost annoyed by my outfit.
But he still agreed to take you out,I tell myself. That’s something.
“You’re being awfully quiet over there, Lilly,” he says, his low rumbling voice cutting through the darkness of the car to make goosebumps erupt over my skin.
“Long week,” I tell him.
He makes a disgruntled noise. “Please tell me Jeff hasn’t been creeping you out anymore. I know you said you want me to stay out of it, but I swear to God, Lil, I’m gonna mess that guy up if he doesn’t leave you alone.”
See? This is what I mean about that whole safety thing. Oliver definitely has a protective streak. I’ve always loved that about him.
But lately? That protective streak is doing more than making me feel safe. It’s been making me turned on. Like,reallyturned on.
“He hasn’t been too bad,” I assure Oliver. “I think you scared him off.”
He doesn’t seem satisfied by that and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was planning another trip to my office.
“You know, you wouldn’t have to worry about this if you came to work for me,” he says, and I scoff the same way I have the other hundred times he’s suggested it.
There’s no way I could ever work for Ollie at his software development company. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of seeing him even more than I already do. But Oliver has a strict rule about his office—he never dates anyone he works with.
I’m already in the friend-zone. I don’t need to add forbidden employee as well.
“You’re forgetting that I like my job,” I point out, and he grumbles under his breath.
I can tell he wants to press me more, but we’ve reached the restaurant. He pulls into the valet lane, and I try not to feel a little thrill of excitement.
I did not grow up with the type of people who could afford valet. Hell, we couldn’t afford to even split one appetizer at a place like this. But Ollie pulls his shiny Jag up to the valet like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I wait while he hands off his keys—he’s yelled at me plenty of times for opening my own door. He jogs around the front of the car and I can’t help but notice how good he looks in that suit.
Our conversation about clothes back at the bar comes back to me. Why does he wear suits so often? I used to assume he must wear them on the days when he didn’t have time to go home to change after work—that’s basically the reason he gave tonight.
But there’d been a flash of something in his eyes when he said it. Something that looked almost guilty.
God, what if he has somewhere to be after this? The idea that he might be meeting a woman after me makes me want to throwup. Maybe that’s why he was so hesitant to leave the sports bar—he saves these places for the women he’s actually interested in.
“You okay?” he asks, frowning down at me as he helps me from the car.
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice chipper even though my stomach has sunk all the way down to my knees.
I hate the idea of him seeing someone else later. I hate that even in my fanciest dress and most sophisticated makeup he still doesn’t see me as an option.
My normal reaction to this kind of thing is to retreat. Even now the idea of Ben and Jerry’s and Netflix on my couch sounds pretty darn good. But how many times have I done that? How many times have I hidden away, just because I was scared?
I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want Ollie. And I don’t want him seeing anyone else after this.
Step up your game, Lilly,I tell myself as he leads me into the restaurant. I’d already made a reservation, hoping to basically force him into coming here, but reservations don’t seem to matter when you’re tech phenom Oliver York. The hostess seems to know him by sight and doesn’t even consult her list, instead immediately leading us to a prime table, right up by the windows in a quiet, secluded corner of the restaurant. Romantic and private. I can work with this.
“What’s good here?” I ask Ollie once the waiter has left us with water and menus.
“They have a braised short rib that will blow your mind,” he says, studying the menu. I take the opportunity of his bowed head to adjust the bodice of my dress, showing off another half inch of cleavage. Then I flip my hair over my shoulder, trying to remember every word of the dating advice articles I pored over this week.
When Ollie looks up, I make sure to bat my eyelashes at him. “That sounds amazing,” I say in my best suggestive voice.I lean forward a little andoh my God!His eyes dropped to my cleavage. I know they did!
But he’s frowning when he looks back up at me, and he shoots a quick, angry glance around the room.
It’s everything I can do to keep from shrinking back in mortification. Is he afraid I’m going to embarrass him in front of the other diners or something?
