: Chapter 5

“Oh my God,” I mumbled under my breath. “Please, please tell me I didn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

I jumped. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Elijah leaned against my office doorway. “Sorry, I thought you were talking to me.” His brows furrowed. “Who the hell were you talking to?”

“Come in, come in.” I waved impatiently. “Shut the door behind you.”

I lifted my phone and used two fingers to zoom in on the Instagram photo for a better look. Confirming what I’d thought I’d seen, I shut my eyes and blew out a deep breath. “I posted a nip-slip pic.”

“A what?”

“A photo with a nipple that slipped out!”

“Of you?”

“I wish! It’s one of the bridesmaids from Saturday night. I took a few photos for the magazine’s Insta. I’d completely forgotten I did it until I got the message from Bill.”

“The boss noticed it?”

“I’m not sure, but he messaged and said he was coming down in a little while to talk to me with the big boss. I thought it was about the coat closet, which would be bad enough. But then I saw the magazine’s Instagram had gained a lot of followers, so I took a closer look. I don’t even remember posting anything.” I turned the phone around and held it out to Elijah.

His eyes widened. “That’s a whole-ass nipple. How did you miss that thing?”

I dropped my head into my hands. “I was drunk. I made out with that guy in the coat closet and then—”

“Whoa! Back up. What guy in the coat closet?”

“Wilder. The guy with the ridiculous blue eyes.”

“Him?” Elijah’s lips curved to a dirty grin. “Nice!”

“No, it’s not nice! It was a stupid thing to do. One minute we were having drinks, the next we were eating cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes? I didn’t see any cupcakes?”

“I don’t even know where Wilder got them. After they cut the cake, he asked me if I wanted a piece. I said I preferred cupcakes to cake, and a little while later, we were eating cupcakes in the coat closet. Then we were making out. The mother of the bride walked in on us—and she’s friends with Ted Hayes, the CEO of Hayes Media, the guy who owns the company that owns this magazine!” I pulled my hair at the roots. “Now I don’t know if they’re on their way down to fire me for that or the nipple pic.”

“Give me your phone,” Elijah said. “Let’s get rid of the evidence.”

“It’s the internet. Nothing is ever really gone!”

“We can at least limit the damage. It will look better if we get sued.”

My eyes grew wide. “Sued! Oh my God. You think the woman is going to sue us?”

“Damn…” Elijah said as he pressed buttons on my phone. “This thing has eight hundred thousand likes. Do you usually get that many?”

“No!”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Sorry. Maybe no one’s noticed.”

“Why do you think it has eight hundred thousand likes? I haven’t been able to get more than ten thousand the last few months. My stats have been awful since I lost my mojo.”

“I didn’t mean no one, no one. I meant Bill or Hayes.”

“Then why are they on their way down here?” I yelled. “The CEO doesn’t stop by to chitchat with me on Monday mornings!”

“Well, at least there’s one good thing.”

“What could possibly be good right now?”

“You’re not going to have to wait long to find out.” Elijah lifted his chin toward the hall. “Because here they come now…”

“Fuck.” I opened my desk drawer and tossed my phone inside, as if hiding it would help.

Bill, the managing editor of Bride magazine, knocked and peeked his head in the door. I forced a smile and waved him in. “Hey, Bill.”

“Morning, Sloane.” He entered and stepped aside for the gentleman behind him—the one in the expensive three-piece suit. “Have you met Mr. Hayes yet?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Ted Hayes.” The CEO stepped forward, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sloane.”

This guy is polite when he fires someone. We exchanged a firm handshake, and I stayed standing after.

Elijah excused himself, slinking out as fast as he could. Over his shoulder, he gave me a look that said Sorry I didn’t stay and join you in front of the firing squad.

Yeah. Thanks for the support, buddy.

“So how was the wedding this weekend? How was Piper?” Mr. Hayes asked.

“Oh, it was very nice. The bride was, uh, sweet.”

Mr. Hayes busted out laughing. “Really? Because she’s usually a spoiled brat. Or maybe you’re just being kind because you know I’m friends with her parents?”

I smiled. “The wedding venue was lovely.”

He nodded. “That’s more like it. And my son? I hope he was hospitable?”

I hadn’t gotten to talk to him aside from the introductions, because I’d stupidly been preoccupied with a certain blue-eyed jackass. So I gave a generic answer.

“Yes, Ted was very nice. I can see the resemblance.”

Mr. Hayes snickered. “He’s usually a bigger ass than Piper, especially when he’s around all those douchebags from Harvard. Went to state school myself, got a fine education. But you know how it goes. You do for your kids—and make them into the very people we thought were assholes growing up.”

I liked this guy. “I went to state school, too.”

He nodded. “Anyway, Bill here tells me the social media posts from the wedding are blowing up.”

Fuck. “Um, yes. They’re definitely getting a lot of attention.”

“Good, good. So how would you like to cover twelve more? Actually, eleven, since you already attended the first one. We’ll make a series. Twelve dumbass Harvard boys from the same fraternity got engaged last year. Must’ve been something in the water. But making it into a series was my son’s idea, actually. When he came over yesterday and suggested it, I thought it might be a bit much—seeing the same people every month in the magazine. A lot of the boys are in all of the wedding parties. But after talking to Bill and hearing about the way social media took a shine to the first wedding, I’m thinking maybe it could work. Though I wanted to hear firsthand from the woman in the trenches. Tell me, what do you think, Sloane?”

Ugh. I couldn’t imagine dealing with that crew for a full year. I didn’t get to know the other ladies too well, but if they tolerated Piper, there had to be something wrong with them. And the guys—well, I knew for certain at least one was a Harvard douche, as Mr. Hayes said. But … how could I say no when his son had suggested it? Plus, if he didn’t know social media was blowing up because I’d posted a nip slip, I wasn’t about to tell him. So I had no choice but to suck it up.

I plastered on my best smile. “I think that’s a great idea. The readers will love it. I’m sure they’ll look forward to the layout every month, a chance to revisit the group. People love a series of anything nowadays.”

Hayes nodded, looking pleased. “Very good then. My son is popping in tonight before he flies home. I’ll have him stop by your office and give you the names and contacts. Will you be here about six?”

I had my gym clothes in my desk drawer, hoping to hit my favorite six o’clock hot yoga class, but it was what it was. “I will be.”

“Great. Nice meeting you, Sloane. And keep up the good work.”

“Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Hayes.”

An hour after they left my office, Elijah slunk back in. “You’re still here. That’s a good thing…”

I sighed. “I’m not so sure. I think I might’ve been happier getting fired. Hayes has decided we should do a series on the friends from the wedding Saturday night. Apparently a dozen Harvard guys from the same fraternity got engaged, and he wants us to cover all their weddings this year. Oh, and he also thinks readers love the crew because of all the social-media attention the pictures are getting.”

“He doesn’t know about the nipple?”

I shook my head. “Apparently not.”

Elijah shrugged. “Well, there’s at least a bright side to it.”

“Really? What? Because I’m not seeing it at the moment. My life is about to be that old movie Groundhog Day—wake up, be reminded of being left at the altar all day long at work, yoga, dinner, sleep, repeat. The highlight of my week will be helping my brothers out at Carrick’s a few nights.”

Elijah unzipped the leather portfolio he always had stuffed with proofs. He slipped out a few pages of contact sheets and dropped them on the desk. “This, for one.”

I looked down. The photos were all thumbnail sized, so I lifted the pages for a closer inspection. “Oh my God. Did you color enhance these?”

“Nope. Those are all him, girl.”

Jesus. If it were possible, Wilder’s eyes were even better in photos. They were mesmerizing. Colored contacts didn’t make eyes shine that bright. My gaze went hazy as I thought back to Saturday night, to our kiss in the coat room … First kisses were not like that. They were awkward head turns, clashing teeth, tongues that needed to find their way. But with Wilder, there was no hesitancy. Once our lips touched, we kissed as if we wanted to eat each other alive. The entire drive home, my body had felt the aftershocks. Between my legs had throbbed as hard as my raging heartbeat. Too bad he was an asshole. I blinked myself back to reality with that thought.

“He’s good-looking, but he knows it.”

Elijah sat back in his chair. “Can’t say I blame him. It’s kind of hard not to notice. You guys had some crazy chemistry zinging between you. Are you going to see him again?”

“Are you nuts? No. The alcohol went to my head the other night, that’s all. Besides, he lives in London.”

“If he was part of the first wedding party, maybe he’ll be at these other weddings we have to cover.”

“God, I hope not.”

“Might be a fun way to get back on the horse, so to speak.”

“Think I’ll pass and stay celibate.”

I looked at the time on my phone. Almost seven thirty. Hayes had said his son would be here about six. How long did I have to hang around and wait for this guy? Now I was going to miss not only the six o’clock hot yoga but the 7:45 Pilates class I used as my backup. If this appointment hadn’t been with the son of the CEO, I’d be long gone by now. People not respecting other people’s time was a pet peeve of mine.

I got up from my desk and stretched, moving the book I was reading with me as I shifted left to right, then went to the kitchen to fill my water bottle. The office had long cleared out—even the cleaning people had come and gone—so the sound of my heels click-clacking on the tile echoed off the walls. While I was filling my bottle, I continued to read my book until my phone chimed with a text from my brother. He wanted me to cover for him at the bar Friday night. I dictated a voice text as I walked back to my office, but I stopped abruptly when I saw a man standing in the hall.

“What the…” My water bottle clanked to the floor, along with my book, while my heart picked up to a gallop.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Cupcake.” Wilder smiled. “I’m looking for you, of course.”

“Why?”

He bent and picked up the items I’d dropped. “Because you ran out on me the other night before I could get your number.”

I swallowed and started walking again, forgetting he still had my things. “I didn’t plan on giving it to you anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if getting turned down wasn’t something he was used to. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t like you very much.”

He grinned. “You seemed to like me a lot in the coat closet.”

“That was an accident.”

His brows jumped. “An accident? You accidentally sucked face with me?”

“I remember it differently. You were the one who sucked face with me.”

“You didn’t mind.”

I brushed past him and walked into my office. He followed, setting my water bottle on the corner of my desk and holding the book out to me. Though he pulled it back to read the cover. “Finding Your Inner Self? Are you reading this crap?”

I plucked my book from his hand. “None of your business.”

He shrugged. “I like you the way you are just fine.”

“Look, Wilder. I’m flattered, but I’m also not interested. Yes, the kiss was nice. But you’re not my type. Besides, you said you live in England.”

“Nice? The kiss was more than nice. I think a writer could do better than that.”

Heart-stopping, breath-stealing, fireworks-worthy—even a simple amazing would be better, but I didn’t want to encourage this guy. Though, my dumb body seemed to have a mind of its own. My eyes dropped to his lips, and my chest heaved. Wilder didn’t miss any of it, either. When I looked up, he smirked, which only made me scowl.

“It’s not happening.” I walked around to the other side of my desk, happy to put a little space between us. The breathing room must’ve let me think straight for the first time, because it dawned on me that he was here, inside my office. “How did you get into the building? The doors lock at six. You need a passcode to get in after that.”

Wilder tilted his head, studying me, and smiled. “My father gave me his code.”

“Your father?”

He nodded.

Why the hell does he look so amused? “Who is your father? Does he work here?”

“He does indeed.”

Great. Just great. Now I’d dug myself a giant hole—posting a nipple photo of the big boss’s friend’s daughter and making out with some other employee’s kid.

“Who’s your father?”

“Ted.”

I flipped through my mental employee Rolodex, but came up blank. “Ted who?”

“Ted Hayes.”

My jaw dropped open. “But … the other guy is named Ted, the nice one from the wedding party.”

“Believe it or not, there are more than two men named Ted in the world. In fact, there are four in my family.”

“But you’re Wilder.”

“Theodore Wilder Hayes, the fourth. My grandfather is Theo, my dad is Ted. My father insisted I carry on the name, but my mother always hated it and called me Wilder instead.” He shook his head. “No one calls me Theodore or Ted.”

I closed my eyes. This cannot be happening. Maybe I was daydreaming. That happened sometimes. Usually I was on a sailboat in the Caribbean or sipping Chianti in Italy in my daydreams, but it was possible. I mean, that kiss with Wilder was pretty great. Yeah, that’s it. He’s not really here. I pressed my eyes shut for a few more seconds, attempting to manifest it to happen. But when I opened them, all I could see was Wilder’s goofy smile.

The one on his very full lips.

Under his Romanesque nose.

Both of which were perfect, but you didn’t notice either of them because of the eyes above.

I took a deep, cleansing breath in, exhaling out anxiety. “This doesn’t change anything,” I told him.

Wilder shoved his hands into his pockets. “Of course not.”

“I’m still not going out with you.”

“Alright, but I will see you again very soon. And when I do, we’ll both be dressed up, and we’ll share a meal. Call it what you want.”

“What are you talking about?”

He took a piece of paper from his pocket, offering it to me. “All the weddings where we’ll be seeing each other. My father asked me to deliver you a list.”