Page 13 of Play the Game
Shit. No. We hate Cooper. We do not think about Cooper naked. Or being nice to me.
I have thought about him naked and nice more than is probably healthy.
Chris laughs. “You keep telling yourself that. And how about your little side hustle? Still writing the forbidden in your office at weird hours of the morning and night?”
I groan. “I never should have told you about that. Those margaritas Rio makes are, like, a truth serum or something.”
“And yet, you did, in fact, tell me that. So, I take that as a yes?”
“It’s a yes.”
“Jesus, woman, when do you sleep?”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “I’ve never needed as much sleep as most people. I’m fine.”
“Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay? Use the undereye masks Rio bought you and make sure you’re drinking water and not just that pumpkin spice shit you love so much. And don’t hate the sexy coworker too much. It’s bad for your complexion.”
The care in my brother’s voice is enough to make my eyes burn. He’s the only person in my life who has always been on my side, no matter what. The only person who sees all of me and loves me anyway. “I swear I will wear the eye masks and drink the water. No promises on the coworker though. He drives me fucking insane.”
“It’s probably sexual tension. Maybe you guys just need to bang it out.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling Chris that we did, in fact, do exactly that three weeks ago and we’re still the enemies we’ve always been, with a simmering undercurrent ofI know what you sound like when you come,and with his sudden turn towards cordial yesterday I have no idea what to think. It’s…uncomfortable.
“I promise we definitely don’t need to do that.” Again. “I’ve gotta run, Chris. I have work to do, but I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Can’t wait. Love you, Ev.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up the call, and before I set down my phone, I hit the browser icon. It opens right to the page I’m looking for and I refresh it, grinning wide when I see the stats on the piece of writing I published this morning. The kudos. The comments. My fingers itch to engage, but with a to do list for work a mile long, I know it’ll have to wait for later.
Good thing I replenished my snack supply.
“Come in!” I call at the knock on my door, setting my phone face down on my desk and pulling a bag of M&Ms out of my desk drawer. The door swings open and Cooper pokes his head in.
“What?” I say flatly, ignoring the way my stomach swoops at how his tie is tugged loose and his top button is unbuttoned, exposing the smooth column of his throat.
Jesus, Ev. Get your head out of the gutter.
“We have a meeting with Pierre Pharma in five minutes. The pre-meeting for Milo’s deposition prep?” He phrases it carefully, like a question, almost like he’s apprehensive about reminding us both about yesterday when he tried to be nice and I bit his head off.
I glance at the clock and bite down on a curse because I completely lost track of time. Mom drama tends to do that. I frantically sweep my feet around under my desk, searching for my shoes while trying to keep my upper body straight and still. “Sorry, I was on a call.” My voice is a little strained as I stretch out my leg, still searching for one missing shoe.
Cooper bends down, and when he straightens up, he has one black heel dangling from his finger and an eyebrow quirked up at me. “Looking for this?”
Shit. I forgot the desk has an open front, so attempting to hide my frantic shoe search was a fool’s errand.
I stand with as much grace as I can muster, wishing desperately for a latte. The more pumpkin spice the better. “Yes, thank you,” I say politely, straightening my skirt and hobbling over to him, taking the shoe and bending to put it on, almost stumbling when I get a whiff of his pine-scented cologne. He grabs my elbow to steady me, and when sparks erupt from the place he touches me, I yank it away and snap up the legal pad and file folders on my desk, making a beeline for the door.
“You coming?” I bite out, turning back to see his eyes on me.
“Lead the way, Rhodes,” Cooper says, with less sarcasm than usual.
I do. And even though he’s behind me the entire time, somehow I feel the prickle of awareness of his eyes on me, and I wonder why it is that I don’t hate it nearly as much as I should.
CHAPTER FOUR
COOPER
