wouldn't be like her father and say, “Fuck my family, I want what I want.”
“Eat your muffin,” she told Iris, frustrated with...life.
“And you've already imploded a friendship for zing. One friend just doesn't know it yet.”
Ash threw a pencil at Iris, who easily dodged it. “Drink your coffee.”
Her friend laughed, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses. “Do you want my advice?”
“Go ahead. You're going to give it to me straight, anyway.”
“It's probably why you told me.”
Iris was right. “Yes, tell me what I should do, because I honestly don't know. I know what I want. That's never been my problem. Despite the fact we grouse at each other, I like him and he likes me, so compatibility isn't a problem, either. So...I don't know.”
“For once in your life, follow his lead.”
If Vic wanted to act like nothing had happened and nothing would ever happen again then, yeah, she should let him.
“Because it was just sex?” Ash reminded herself and added absently, “It was great sex though.”
Iris shook her head, a knowing expression tugging her mouth into a frown. “That's not what I said. God, you're hopeless.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “From the sounds of it, so is he. I'm just going to sit in your office all day. This is a train wreck waiting to happen, and I want front row seats to this clusterfuck.”
Iris was probably right. Again. “Shit,” Ash muttered.
CHAPTER SIX
~Gamer Truth: When in doubt, push every damn button.~
A little bit before lunchtime, Ash finally managed to find a groove in her work as she closed out former clients' files. She’d actually relaxed, so of course Victor strode into her office.
Her fingers froze over the keyboard as she tried to take him in. He was in her space once again, except this time, he wasn't in her bed. Her office was no less feminine than her apartment. It had polka dots, family photos, and at least one half-used cake-scented candle. It also had a whole lot less space than her apartment, and he seemed to take up all of it.
He was tall, and his muscles made him appear solid, immovable. The only outward sign that he hadn't forgotten about their weekend was the way he gripped a small toolbox, his knuckles so white compared to his tanned skin. He had no problem meeting her gaze, though. There wasn't a hint of the man who had laughed with her in bed—who’d kissed her and touched her until she couldn't breathe.
He topped that cold reception off by saying in a lifeless tone, “Save whatever you're working on. I have to diagnose your computer. It might take a while.”
No “Hi.” No “Hey, Ash.” No, “I kissed your face off and then we had wild sex for two days.”
She tried to ignore the annoyance flooding her veins like melted steel, but him acting like nothing had happened was different than him directing his arctic chill toward her at full blast. Back to business as usual. Fine. If he wanted to act like a dick, she was going to let him.
She pushed her chair away from her desk and gestured to it. “All yours. Do I need to stay to type in my passwords?”
Victor frowned at her but that wasn't new. “Yes.” He had the nerve to sound pissed.
She refused to even blink at his tone. “I can always write them down for you if me being here is a problem.”
“Never write down passwords.” He turned his back to her.
Then, only then, did she let her eyes narrow. He wanted to play a game and she wanted to screw with him, but that was always her knee-jerk reaction to Vic.
When he had pretended he didn't see her, she'd wear really short shorts in the summer and low-cut shirts in the winter. She'd waltzed around feeling the heat of his gaze on her when he thought she and no one else would know.
At some point, she should have matured enough and grown out of the impetuous reaction. Should have. Did she want to bait him again? On Friday night, she’d pushed for a kiss. He'd given her something raw and sharp-edged in return.