Page 61 of Last on the List
Me: It says a wealthy, handsome, older male. I’m not that much older than you.
Cassandra: It’s the gray hairs in your scruff.
Me: I have grays?
Cassandra: Just a few. Don’t worry, they blend in with the blond. And they look good! Sexy. Distinguished. Total Zaddy vibes.
Me: I’m sending screenshots of this conversation to your sister.
Cassandra: You’re a mean Zaddy!
I’m smiling at my phone like a love-sick puppy when I hear my colleague calling out my name repeatedly through my computer speaker. “Max, are you there? The client has a question for you. Max?”
Blowing out a huge breath, I smooth my tie down to compose myself before flipping my camera back on and unmuting my mic. Zaddy or not, I have a company to run.
“Hello?” Dakota’s groggy voice mumbles into the phone line. I glance at the clock and cringe when I see it’s five thirty in the morning.
“Dakota,” I hiss, needing her to wake the hell up and match my energy…which is acting like I’m on my tenth cup of coffee when in fact I haven’t had a sip. “Do you remember that 90s movie with Alicia Silverstone and Cary Elwes? It’s calledThe Crush. He’s a writer and moves into their guesthouse, and the teen daughter becomes obsessed with him, builds a shrine of him, and like…tries to kill his girlfriend with a swarm of bees in a dark room?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Alicia Silverstone’s character.” My voice cracks as I jam my hand through my bedhead. “I’m currently up in my loft bedroom gaping out the window like a pervert watching Max swim laps in the pool. It’s still kind of dark out, but I can see him, Dakota. I am officially the stalker in this situation now.”
The sound of muffling breaks through the phone before Dakota yawns loudly. “First of all, if anything, you’re Alicia Silverstone in that babysitter movie. Remember she has like two teenage boys going after her plus the dad? God, that movie was dirty as hell. Your parents’ old VHS collection probably should have been locked away.” She giggles sleepily.
I duck down when I see Max hoisting himself out of the pool. The sun is starting to peek through the trees, so I get a nice golden view of him drying off. He turns his back to me, and I notice his swim trunks are riding so low that the very top of his ass crack is showing, and I can see his tan line. Seriously, now a plumber’s ass is hot?Another kink unlocked.
“So if I’m the Alicia Silverstone babysitter, what does that mean? He’s the dirty one, not me?” I ask, still feeling desperate to find some semblance of comfort in this painful situation.
“Oh, you’re both dirty, for sure.”
I groan, “Why did we think it was a good idea for me to hook up with my boss again?”
“Because you’re not a teenage nut job, Cozy. You’re a grown woman, and Max is hot. You would hate yourself if you didn’t seize the day and bag the Zaddy. I’m fucking proud of you.”
My lips buzz with yet another heavy breath. Been doing a lot of heavy breathing these days. And unfortunately, Dakota’s pride does nothing to quell the anxiety still swirling in my tummy. I thought the sexual tension would dissipate after we hooked up. But that Zaddy asshole has made me coffee three mornings in a freaking row. Three! And you know what? There is something intensely erotic about having a man in a suit hand you a cup of coffee. Starbucks needs to change their employee uniforms immediately.
Okay, my kink counts are out of fucking control now.
Not to mention Max’s kinks! Biting, hickeys, intense eye contact. It’s a lot. We are a lot. I haven’t even needed to pick up my Mercedes Lee Loveletter books this week because I am living in some sort of Loveletter fantasy.
Even my text exchanges with Max are like…not PG rated anymore.
Me: Fair warning…Everly and I have been tie-dying today, and she may have snuck into your closet and transformed a few of your white T-shirts.
Max: Oh, boy.
Me: Yeah, also…your closet is like straight out of a Mercedes Lee Loveletter novel. I may have drooled a little while walking around and fondling your things.
Max: One of these days, you’ll have to tell me what it is you love about Kate’s books.
Me: Hiding eyes emoji. That would not be an appropriate conversation to have with my boss.
Max: I think we’re far past the point of appropriate, don’t you, Cassandra?
My brain rips out of my mental musings to ask Dakota, “Why are both movie references we’re talking about for my life story cheesy psychological thrillers instead of sweet, romantic comedies?” My hand grows sweaty as I clutch my phone like it’s my lifeline.
“Because you’re you, Cozy. And it simply would not be on brand for you to identify with traditional,” Dakota replies simply.
