The food is to die for. I finish my burger and feel my waistband protest against another chip. I eat it anyway because that’s the level of self-control I have today.
“Reid, that was amazing. Best ever.”
He smirks. “And I didn’t even break a sweat.”
“Wow, is it always hot and sweaty with you?”
His eyes darken, and I squirm in my seat. “Mila, we have a long afternoon ahead of us.”
I swallow my arousal, though it does little to calm my racing pulse.
Sex with Reid.
Jesus. Sex with Reid.
Now, over lunch, I’m seeing images of a sweaty Reid on top of me.
“Do you think you’ll stay at Wilson Press?” I ask.
“I have no plans to move on. The company is growing quickly, and I like being a part of that.”
“It’s the best publisher ever.”
He smirks. “Mel can’t hear you.”
“I wasn’t sucking up. I just love it. So, you like being a part of building something rather than just joining somewhere more established?”
“Definitely. I don’t know, my mum says I have to fix things, and although Wilson isn’t broken, there is a lot more growth yet to happen.”
“I’m a fixer, too. I always have been. If someone I love has a problem, I can’t settle until I’ve solved it.” I shrug. “Which isn’t always helpful during those times when people need to deal with their own shit.”
“Do you know why you do that?”
“I saw a therapist in school. It all started when Hugo was in an accident. It wasn’t a bad one, he was fine, but it shook me up pretty badly. He only had whiplash, but I still remember bringing him different pillows and fluffing them up to try and get the right support for his neck.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight. I saw the therapist all through primary school, though it wasn’t called therapy. I don’t think helping people is a bad thing, anyway, so I can’t be too pissed that it stayed with me.”
He nods. “So long as it doesn’t take too much out of you.”
“Wow, you sound like the therapist. You have to have it to give it.”
“It’s true, Mila.”
“Yeah, I know. We should leave, right?”
“It’s time.”
I stand as he drops notes onto the table. “What are you doing, Reid?”
“Oh, if you don’t pay, they call the cops.”
“Ha ha.”
“If we could not have the who’s paying argument, that would be great. This is your first day, and I want to buy you lunch.”
My heart leaps. He’s so sweet.
“Okay. Thank you for lunch.”
“Thank you for not being difficult.”
“You’re welcome.”
He smirks. “So are you.”
I wonder if he’s ever had sex in his car.
Shut up!
We say a final thank you to the server and go back to his car. “We should come back again.”
He looks over. “We will.”
“What are you doing this afternoon?”
“I have a call with an author after he’s sent his latest proposal. It’ll hopefully be in my inbox now.”
I love his job. I can’t wait to get back and dive straight into proofreading. I’m so enjoying it. Not just the story but picking up on any last mistakes. I’ve found one grammar error and a couple things that I feel could use some clarity for the reader.
“Are you leaning more towards editing than writing now?” he asks, resting his forearms on the roof of his car.
“No, I don’t think so. I still love to write—to create a new world myself—but I’m really enjoying this, and I’ve loved helping you. Maybe I’ll write and still pester you to read first drafts.”
“Ah, the best of both worlds.”
We get into his immaculate car, and he drives us back to the office. We’re silent and stuffed, but there is no awkwardness I need to fill with words. I can be in his company and say nothing at all. Shame that doesn’t happen when I need it to the most.
I listen to the hum of the engine. The midday sun shines through the windscreen, making it appear warmer than it is. But it’s a beautiful day, and I can’t help smiling.
“Have you ever wanted to write? I know that you don’t, but does it not appeal at all?” I ask as we get close to the office again. Surely reading all day would give him so much inspiration.
“No, I’m happy to shape the novels that are already there.”
“You like to fix not create.”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“All right. Did you have to write at uni, though?”
“Yes,” he replies slowly, his eyes sliding to me as if he knows my next question.
“Can I, please?”
“No way, you’re not reading them. I don’t even think I’ve kept them.”
“Where did you study? I’ll call them.”
We pull into the car park, and he turns off the engine. “Absolutely not. Come on, or we’ll be late. It’s almost one.”
I unbuckle the seatbelt so fast, it almost whacks the door, and I get out.
Must not get fired.
“Ah, you’re back. I was half worried that Reid would take you home to work with him,” Mel teases, winking at Reid when we walk back inside.
“That’s the evenings. He’s very patient. I bet he wants to tell me to get lost,” I say as we part ways.
“I doubt that very much.”
“He told me you’ve had some valuable input in Leonard’s book. I agree with him.”
I beam at the compliment. I’m totally not getting fired… not today. “Thanks.”
“Are you ready to get back to it?”
“Absolutely.” I wiggle the mouse, and the monitor pops back to life, gifting me a whole lot of swoony words to lose myself in. I already want Ava and Matt to be together.
But too often, my eyes move above the monitor and seek Reid.