16. Chapter Sixteen

The week after the hike, Daisy and I worked on my house together twice, and she came to Peak for a strategy meeting. Since then, it had been a week since we'd seen each other. I'd gotten so busy with other clients, almost everything else had fallen by the wayside.

Tonight, though, I was hers. In a professional capacity. It was our first event of the season. I had my cards in one pocket of my jacket, and hers in the other.

I was early. When I'd arrived, she'd yelled at me to let myself in, so I was sitting in her cozy little living room, waiting for her while she finished getting ready.

There was a pink box on the coffee table in front of me, and it felt like one of those tests behavioral scientists gave little kids.

Watch the man with next to no self-control to see how long it takes him to open the box.

I was forcing myself to wait, but given it had been a solid ten days since I'd eaten one of Daisy's creations, it wasn't easy. It was good for me, though. It built character. I couldn't always have immediate gratification. The best things were worth waiting for.

"I'm coming," Daisy called. "Sorry for running late. I put on a dress and realized how long it had been since I'd shaved my legs."

"Don't give in to society's beauty standards, Cupcake. Let your hair flow."

She emerged from her bathroom, rolling her eyes. "You don't understand. My leg hair isn't fine and wispy."

"Was this a Sasquatch situation?"

My mouth was moving, saying words, but all my brain could register was the woman walking toward me. Her dress was black and off-the-shoulder. It skimmed her body, ending right below her knees. A wide leather belt with heavy, silver buckles cinched her middle, and straps went over her shoulders like suspenders.

Her lips were midnight red. Thick lashes curtained her eyes. The skin of her exposed shoulders had a sheen to it. Not glitter. Never glitter. Something subtle and sexy.

She plunked down beside me on the couch, a tube of lotion in her grip. "You haven't eaten your cupcakes yet?"

"What?"

She pointed her bare toe at the box. "Is it empty, or have you really not dug in?"

"I haven't dug in." I caught her foot on its way down and slid my thumb over the dark gray polish on her big toe. "I like this color."

Her feet were powder white and soft as a petal. I allowed myself one stroke of her arch before gently releasing her.

She softly gasped. "Miles Aldrich, are you a foot man?"

"I'm an admirer of the female form in general, but yes, I like a pretty foot." I grabbed the box off the coffee table and blindly stuffed a cupcake in my mouth, hoping to distract from the fact that I basically just felt her up.

Daisy wasn't as kind. Propping her foot on the coffee table, she snapped open her lotion, drizzled a dollop on her calf, and wiggled her toes as she lathered the cream into her skin.

"Tell me about the event we're going to again."

I stared at her, wondering how the hell she expected me to have a coherent conversation with most of my blood firmly lodged in my dick.

Instead of responding, I ate another cupcake, and she laughed.

"My Mama let me and my sisters be who we wanted. She never vetoed our clothes or hairstyles. But she wouldn't budge on taking care of our skin. From a young age, she drilled into us the need to lotion every inch of our bodies and wash our makeup off before bed. She'd always tell us, ‘That includes your feet, ladies. They carry you where you want to go, so you need to treat them nicely.' I've been getting biweekly pedicures since high school. What color do you think I should get next?"

I blinked at her. "What'd I do to deserve this?"

She dropped her foot and leaned forward, tapping her chin. "It's fun to see you flustered, Miles Aldrich. I didn't think you could get embarrassed, but your cheeks are cherry red right now. It's adorable."

"Christ, Daisy. This isn't embarrassment. You made my dick hard, and your little speech about how you take care of your feet isn't helping. It would be helpful if you could walk your pretty ass back to your bedroom and not come back until you have shoes on."

Her mouth fell open. "You're serious, aren't you?" Then her gaze drifted to my dick, which was doing a convincing impression of a tent pole. "Oh my god, Miles."

She leaped up and scurried back, her eyes bugging, cheeks as flushed as mine. Then she spun and disappeared into her bedroom, the door flying shut behind her.

Damn.

It had been a long, long time since I'd gotten laid. Even longer since a woman had turned me on without trying. Obviously, I needed to spend more time with my hand before hanging out with Daisy. That interaction hadn't been professional at all. Hopefully I hadn't freaked her out and ruined our working relationship—or what felt like a budding friendship.

A minute or two later, she reemerged, much more composed. In the time she'd been absent, I'd reminded my dick of a few world atrocities, shaming it for its behavior.

"Okay, I'm almost ready. Just one more thing." Daisy circled the coffee table to stand in front of me. "Which do you think I should wear? Heels or booties?"

The shiny boots balanced on one hand and strappy heels dangling from the other made my chest tighten and blood leech from my head.

"You're a menace," I gritted. "Put the fucking boots on before this gets any more awkward."

She collapsed on the armchair, her shoulders jiggling with laughter. I sprung up and crossed the room, putting the kitchen island between us.

"I'm sorry. I really am, but I couldn't resist." She waved the boots at me. "Don't worry, the heels don't match my outfit. I'm wearing the booties."

Once she had her feet safely tucked away, we were in my car and on the way to our event.

"Art gallery grand opening," I reminded her. "Pet project for Louisa Maddox. She and her friends are known to throw events in constant rotation. If you can get in with them, you'll be golden. But everyone you meet tonight will be an important connection."

She fiddled with the clasp of her clutch, opening and closing it. "Got it. Don't make a fool of myself and be personable."

"I'll do the personable thing, Cupcake. You look trustworthy and tell stories about the cheese guy from France who proposed to you last year."

"He didn't propose—he asked me to spend the month with him."

I shook my head. "Shoulda taken him up on it."

"I had the whole live-in boyfriend at the time."

"And look where that got you."

Her sharp intake of breath was clear indication I'd gone too far.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

She smoothed her hands over her skirt before folding them in her lap. "No, you shouldn't have. He's the last thing I need to be reminded of at the moment."

I probably shouldn't have reminded her of him anyway, since she wasn't over him. She wasn't dating or looking. Whenever I broached the subject of Andy, she'd get this lost look about her and promptly shut me down.

Reaching across the console, I patted her hand. To my surprise, she flipped hers over and clutched mine.

"If you do a good job tonight, I'll take you for a burger after."

Another hitch of her breath. This time, with excitement. "Really?"

"Really."

"I'm starving. I was too nervous to eat before you came, and these things never have anything good to eat. I could go for a burger for sure."

"It's a deal."

Whether she forgot or it was purposeful, Daisy held my hand in her lap the rest of the trip, and I saw no reason to point it out.

I was only sorry when she let go.