120. Nate

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY

NATE

I slip my phone into my pocket and feel victory at both the look on Rosie's face before I hung up and the uncomfortable look on Cindy's face now.

I don't want to talk to Cindy.

We've flirted some in the past—I flirt with everyone—but that's all it's ever been, because I don't fuck where I work.

My mind flashes back to yesterday, when I was face fucking Rosie in my office, and heat stirs in my gut.

I push those memories away, not wanting lust to show on my face, giving the woman in front of me the wrong idea.

"Was that your… girlfriend?" Cindy asks, like the idea itself is absurd.

I let my affection for Rosie fill my smile. "Yeah. She's at home with our sick cat."

I mentally pat myself on the back for the homey picture I painted with that sentence.

"Oh." Cindy shifts on her feet.

"You headed to the speaker in room C?" I change the topic.

Cindy shakes her head. "I'm on a panel in F in about thirty."

"Nice." It really is nice. More women should be speaking at this convention, so awkwardness aside, I'm glad she's here. "You still with the same company?"

She nods. "Yeah, I was promoted to project manager this past spring."

"That's awesome. Congrats."

"Thanks." She pauses. "So, how'd you meet your girlfriend?"

I'm a little surprised Cindy is bringing the topic back up. But the question makes me picture the moment Rosie and I met as adults. Her standing in Maddox's doorway, me thinking she was a fan.

"She runs her own catering company and was hired for my best friend's wedding. It was love at first sight." I grin. "At least for me. She's taken some convincing."

Cindy laughs politely. "Lucky lady."

I shake my head. "Lucky me."