Flirty: An Enemies to Lovers/ Single Dad Romantic Comedy (Unexpected Lovers Book 1)

by JB Heller

  I’m fully in the zone when someone clears their throat and knocks against the doorframe at the entrance to my office. I smile up at my coworker Kiara. “Morning,” I say.

  She frowns. “Dude, it’s lunchtime.”

  My eyes flick to the time displayed at the corner of my computer screen. “Well, crap, thanks for popping in. I would have worked straight through.”

  Kiara grins and shakes her head. “I know,” she grumbles. “Come on. Let’s hit up the deli. I’m starving.”

  “Sounds good. Now that you mention it, I am hungry. I skipped breakfast.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” she mutters as I join her, and we walk down the hall to the elevator bank.

  We’re riding down to the lobby with six other people crammed into the small space. Someone in here has some killer B.O. going on, and I cringe. Kiara side-eyes me, giving me a knowing look. She smells it too. She makes a gagging face, and I snort then quickly cover my face with my hands when the woman beside me glares in my direction.

  When the elevator opens, we hotfoot it out of there as quickly as possible and laugh as we push the front entrance doors and emerge onto the street.

  “That was nasty!” I say.

  Kiara’s eyes are watering from her laughter. “I know. Have they never heard of deodorant? Seriously, it’s not a new invention.”

  “Preach,” I agree and hold my hand up for a high-five as we make our way down the block.

  We place our orders at the counter then take a seat in a cozy corner by the front window so we can people-watch as we eat.

  “So, what’s new?” Kiara asks conversationally.

  I shrug. “Same ol’, same ol’. Had brunch with my mom and sister last week—fun times. Oh wait! There was something new,” I tell her. “I was accused of being a cradle-snatching hustler by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

  Kiara’s eyes widen. “What? Tell me everything right now!” she demands, slapping her palms on the tabletop.

  “About brunch?” I tease with a tilt of my head.

  She rolls her eyes. “Like I want to talk about your bitchy family.”

  I’ve talked to her about my sex-on-a-stick neighbor before, but she doesn’t know about Miss Sadie, so I leave that little detail out. Clearing my throat, I give her a condensed version. “For some reason, he thought I was trying to hustle his sixteen-year-old son. He approached me in the elevator about it last week. It. Was. Mortifying.”

  Her face scrunches in disapproval. “That’s not cool, dude. Maybe his son is crushing on you, and he thought you were encouraging it?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Either way, I set him straight then got my ass out of there.”

  Our bagels are placed on the table in front of us by Callum, who usually works the counter, not the tables. When he lingers, both Kiara and I swing our eyes up to him. He shifts on his feet nervously, then says, “Are you doing anything Friday night?”

  My eyes shoot to Kiara. He’s asking her out, and he’s nervous about it. How freaking cute!

  But she looks back at me, raises her brows, then shifts her eyes back and forth between Callum and me. I don’t know what she wants me to do, so I kick her under the table and widen my eyes at her.

  She sighs, turns her attention to Callum, and gives him a small smile. “I’m sorry, Callum, but Kinsley here thinks you’re talking to me.”

  My jaw drops, and I blink at her. The hell did she just say? He was talking to her. What is she on about?

  “Oh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and biting down on his pierced lower lip. His gaze comes to mine, and he lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. “I was asking you,” he says softly.

  I rear back in shock. “Seriously?” I ask.

  A shy smile tugs at his pretty mouth. It’s a weird observation, but the guy has the poutiest full lips I’ve ever seen.

  “Yeah,” he confirms. “You free on Friday? I’ve got tickets to a friend’s gig at The Royal. I’d really like it if you’d come with me.”

  A red-hot blush creeps up my neck and over my cheeks. I swallow past the lump of nerves in my throat and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Why?”

  I hear Kiara groan, but I ignore her.

  “You seem like a cool chick. I see you in here almost every week, and well ...” He pauses, licks his lips, then glances at the ground as he says, “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while.”

  Again, my eyes widen. “You have?” I whisper.

  He chuckles and brings his gaze back to mine. “Yeah, I have. So, whaddya say?”

  “Umm, I, uh—”

  Kiara cuts me off. “She’d love to. Give me your phone. I’ll program her number in for you.” She extends an expectant hand, and Callum obliges.

  “You okay with this, Kinsley?” he asks as Kiara punches in my number.

  How sweet is this guy? A brilliant smile lights up his face, and I nod then bite the inside of my cheek.

  “There. All done. You can text her the details,” Kiara says, giving him back his phone.

  He grins, nods, then walks backwards away from us. “Will do,” he says before turning around to the counter.

  Blinking at my bagel, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. I don’t remember the last time someone asked me out. And he’s super cute, to boot.

  “Girl, you are so ignorant. How could you think that guy was talking to me? He watches you like a love-struck puppy every time we come in here,” Kiara says around a bite of her lunch.

  “He does not,” I retort.

  She shakes her head and chuckles. “You’re either ignorant or completely blind, ’cause he most certainly does.”

  Hmmm, this is the second time in as many days that one of my friends has accused me of something like this. God, what if they’re right? How many guys have I not given the time of day because I had no idea they were even interested?

  I refrain from banging my head on the table—only just, though. I’m such a moron.

  I’ve shut down my computer for the day when Tyson enters my office, a grin on his face.

  “What’s up?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

  He makes himself comfortable in one of the chairs in front of my desk then asks, “How’d your weekend go? Did you finally run into your secret seductress?”

  I’d been doing my best not to continue obsessing about her, and I’ve done a pretty good job for the most part. I sigh and relax back into my seat. “Nope. Pretty sure she’s avoiding me. I usually see her at least once or twice a week in passing.”

  Tyson chuckles. “He’s finally found a woman who’s immune to his charms.”

  Flipping him off is inappropriate behavior in the office, but I do it anyway. “I haven’t even tried to charm her yet. In fact, based on our first and only encounter, I’d say she has no idea I’ve practically had a hard-on for her for months.”

  “Say what?” Tyson splutters, jerking forward in his chair.

  I shrug. “How do you think I knew who she really was? You saw her website; she doesn’t show her face.”

  Resting his elbows on his knees, he laces his fingers together then rests his chin atop them. “I didn’t even think about it. But now that you mention it, it makes you sound like a creepy bastard. How’d you figure it out?”

  I roll my eyes. He’s so dramatic. It’s not that strange. “She has a lavender tattoo on the back of her neck. I’ve seen it when we ride the elevator in our building. I saw it in the video—or live feed. Point is, that’s what clued me in. I still have no idea what her real name is, so I can’t even look her up to apologize for being an epic ass to her.”

  He grins like he knows something I don’t.

  “Spit it out,” I demand.

  “You know there’s an e-mail address connected to the site, right?” he asks.

  Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? Running my hand through my hair, I reach out to turn my monitor back on, but Tyson stops me, saying, “I haven’t shut down my computer yet. Give me a sec, and I’ll get it for
you.”

  He returns a minute later and hands me a Post-It note. “Use it wisely,” he jokes.

  “Asshole,” I grumble under my breath at his retreating back.

  “I heard that,” he sings out.

  Of course he did. Tucking the note in my breast pocket, I turn to snatch up my briefcase then switch the light off on my way out the door.

  FROM: ablaine@blaineenglishclinegroup.com

  TO: sadie@seductivesadie.com

  SUBJECT: Meeting request...

  Sadie-not-Sadie,

  This is Atticus, the asshole who accused you of seducing his son in the elevator of our building last week.

  Since I haven’t seen you in person since our encounter, I have no other choice but to make contact via e-mail.

  If you would give me the chance, I would very much like the opportunity to make my apologies for my asinine behavior face to face. Perhaps we could arrange a time to meet or cross paths in the elevator again this week?

  Sincerely,

  Atticus

  My eyes skim the words over and over again.

  He wants to meet up with me? Oh, hell no.

  I can never look the man in the eye after what he’s seen, let alone intentionally meet up with him.

  FROM: sadie@seductivesadie.com

  TO: ablaine@blaineenglishclinegroup.com

  SUBJECT: Let’s not and say we did…

  Hello Mr. Blaine,

  While I appreciate your desire to apologize, and I do, let’s just call this good enough.

  I will take this e-mail as your apology, and we can go back to pretending we don’t exist to each other.

  Regards,

  Sadie

  I glare at her response—it just won’t do.

  “Whoa, did you just growl?” Arlo asks from the other side of the table as we eat dinner.

  After dropping my phone beside my plate, I transfer my gaze to him.

  He holds his hands up in surrender, then a wicked grin forms on his face. “Still dealing with your lady problems?”

  “I’ve got it under control,” I grumble and cut into my steak.

  Arlo snorts. “The way you’re butchering that steak right now begs to differ.”

  My knife and fork hit the plate with a clang. Sighing, I sit back and run a hand through my hair. “She’s just being difficult. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Well, I’m here for you to bounce ideas off if you want.”

  I smile and shake my head. “Thanks, bud, but I’m good.”

  He shrugs and goes back to stuffing his face while I contemplate what to say to make Sadie-not-Sadie change her mind.

  I make a point of not checking my Sadie-related e-mails for the next few days. I don’t want to know if Atticus has replied. The fact that he reached out proves he’s been thinking about me, or at least, thinking about what went down between us.

  I also haven’t done another live feed since. The thought of him logging in to watch is just too much. There’s no way I can do it; the element of anonymity has gone up in flames.

  The bastard’s ruined Miss Sadie for me, damn it.

  “You excited for your date tonight?” Emory asks, her feet on the coffee table as she flicks through movie options on Netflix with a bowl of popcorn in her lap and a beer in her free hand. “Are you meeting him there, or is he picking you up?”

  “He’s meeting me in the lobby,” I answer, glancing at my watch. “In half an hour.”

  Her gaze strays from the TV and flits over my outfit. “You look cute.” She smiles.

  I run a hand down my side. “You think so?” I ask, self-consciousness rearing its ugly head.

  “Positive,” Em assures me. “Are you wearing those brown leather booties you got the other week or sandals?”

  “I was going to wear the booties. Do you think sandals would be better?”

  Em shakes her head. “No, no. The booties will be perfect. Especially since he’s taking you to a concert at The Royal. You’ll want the coverage. Nothing worse than someone spilling their drink on your feet and having to put up with the gross stickiness all night.”

  I nod. “Truth.”

  The front door opens, and Lennon strolls in, carrying a bag of takeout for her and Em. “Lookin’ hot, Kins,” she says, dropping onto the couch beside Emory.

  “Thanks.” I grin, the pressure easing up off my chest a little more.

  I’m wearing tight, high-waisted blue jeans paired with a floral-print, long-sleeve midi top, and a leather jacket. I love this outfit. I know it’s cute as fuck, but there’s always that little voice inside my head that tells me it would look so much better on my sister.

  “Hey, knock that off,” Len snaps at me.

  I shake my head and look at her. “What?”

  Her eyes narrow on me. “You’re doing it again. Diving too deep inside that head of yours and letting your insecurities take over. You look fucking gorgeous, and this guy is one lucky son of a bitch to be taking you out tonight. You hear me?”

  My heart swells. “I hear you,” I say, smiling. “I’m good now. Promise.” I head to my room and grab a little cross-body bag then slip my booties on.

  “Okay, I’m out. Don’t have too much fun without me,” I call as I open the front door to make my exit.

  “Have fun!” and “Love you!” follow behind me.

  I practically skip down the seven flights of stairs to the lobby, my spirits high. Excitement for what the night will hold comes bubbling forward. I only have to wait for a few minutes, then Callum enters.

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face when he stops in his tracks at the sight of me, his eyes raking over my form as he bites his pierced bottom lip.

  God, he’s so damn cute.

  “Hey,” he says, nearing me.

  “Hi,” I murmur.

  He leans in and presses a small kiss to my cheek. Drawing back, he smiles down at me. “You look beautiful, Kinsley.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble, heat scorching my face.

  “You ready to go?” he asks, extending a hand in offering.

  I slide my palm into his. As we start walking, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Glancing around the lobby, my gaze lands on Atticus’s heated stare, right as the elevator closes in front of him.

  “Thank you for asking me to go with you tonight. I had a really good time,” I tell Callum as we stand in front of my building after the concert, our fingers laced together.

  His shy smile appears, and his eyes flit from mine, to my lips, then back again. “Yeah, me too. Kind of wish I’d grown a pair and asked you out sooner, though,” he jokes.

  I chuckle nervously because he’s fully staring at my mouth, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Is he going to go for it? I haven’t kissed a guy since Marco ditched me for Sophia when I was seventeen. What if I suck at it? Isn’t it a skill you need to practice to stay good at it?

  “I’d really like to kiss you good night, Kinsley. Would that be okay?” Callum asks.

  “Oh, umm …” I swallow hard. “Would you mind terribly if I said not tonight?” I answer, then at his crestfallen expression, I rush to continue, “It’s not because I don’t want to. I do. I’m just really rusty, and I, umm … I haven’t done this in a really long time. Can we take a raincheck on the kiss?”

  His cheeks rise in a smile at my explanation, and he nods. “Okay. Next time, then.” He winks then drops a quick peck on the top of my head and gives my fingers a squeeze before releasing my hand. “Good night, beautiful. I’ll text you soon.”

  By the time I push through the door to my apartment, my face is sore from smiling so much. I drop my keys in the bowl then lean back against the wall as I tug off my booties.

  Lennon and Emory are still on the couch, and they turn to face me.

  “Well, don’t you just look like the cat who got the cream,” Lennon says, grinning.

  “It was really great. I had such a good time, and Callum was the perfect gentleman,” I say, coming
to sit on the armchair beside the couch, hanging my legs over one arm.

  At my words, Len’s grin fades. “Perfect gentleman? Well, that sucks.”

  I laugh and grab a throw pillow off the floor, chucking it at her head. “He asked if he could kiss me good night, and I had a mini internal freak-out and said no. He didn’t get mad or anything—just kissed the top of my head and told me he’ll text me soon.”

  Len rolls her eyes, and Em practically swoons.

  “Did you at least take a picture with him so we can see the goods?” Len asks.

  After digging my phone from my back pocket, I unlock it, open the gallery app, locate a selfie of Callum with his arm hooked around my shoulders in the dancing crowd, then toss it to her.

  Her eyes widen at the picture on the screen. “Jesus, you didn’t mention how fuckable this guy is. Damn, Kins, I can’t believe you told him not to kiss you. He’s hot as shit.”

  Emory snatches my phone from Len and gasps. “Whoa, he is gorgeous. You wouldn’t mind terribly if I added him to my jill till, would you?” She laughs.

  “You two need to get laid.” I chuckle, getting to my feet and snatching my phone back.

  Len snorts. “Says you. Pot, meet kettle.”

  We all laugh. She’s not wrong.

  “I’m hitting the shower then going to bed. I’m beat,” I tell them, blowing air kisses. I head down the short hall to my room.

  I climb into bed after a quick bath to wash away the sweat I worked up dancing, tug on a pair of llama-print flannel jammie pants, fluffy socks, and a Nerdy is the New Sexy hoodie.

  Plugging my cell into the charger on my bedside table, I decide it’s past time I check my Sadie e-mail account. Clicking on the e-mail app, I’m not surprised to see a new message from Atticus, sent on Monday night.