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I narrow my eyes. “What did you do?”
There’s a knock and Eric pokes his head around the door, his curiosity shifting into a smile when he spots the man in front of me.
“Tate.” My boss strides toward Tate, hand outstretched. “Good to see you, man. How are you?”
If he’s surprised to see my husband, he hides it well.
“Eric. I’m good, I’m good.” I squeak when Tate draws me into his side, dropping his arm over my shoulder. My body buzzes, reacting instinctively to his proximity. It’s all she knows. Traitorous bitch. “Thanks for giving Talia the rest of the day off.”
“What?” I shrug out of his hold, though he doesn’t let me go far, and I scowl up at him.
Eric laughs. “I was just telling her the other day she works too hard. Where are you headed?”
One of us is headed to an early grave.
Tate finds my annoyance amusing and winks at me. “It’s a surprise.”
“Nice. I should treat my wife to one of those.” Eric chuckles. Tate has charmed the pants off my boss, who has forgotten that a few days ago, the topic of my husband was off-limits. Have I woken up in an alternate universe? “Have fun, you two. And Talia?” He points a finger at me jokingly. “Make sure you work from home the rest of the week and stay off your laptop this weekend. That’s an order.”
“Thanks, Eric. See you around,” Tate calls after him as he leaves us alone. The moment the door closes, I spin on him.
“You had no right. This is my job, Tate. Do you know how unprofessional it looks for my husband to waltz in here, causing a scene and interfering with my work?”
He feigns ignorance. “I didn’t cause a scene, and Eric was the one who brought up your unhealthy work-life balance when I called him.”
“Because you called my boss. What else were you going to discuss?”
“A lot, actually. His wife is a fan, and I offered to—”
“Everyone is a fan of you. The whole world is obsessed with you.”
“Not everyone,” he grumbles, and I hate the downtrodden expression he wears. “Don’t forget you agreed to this. You can’t go back on your word. It’s unlawful.”
I press the tips of my fingers into my eyelids. “The crime I’m about to commit is unlawful. And while we’re on the matter of illegal acts, you’re on strike one.”
He laughs. “What?”
“Our no touching rule. You broke it. It still counts as cuddling if we’re vertical.”
Tate deadpans. “You’re serious? How many strikes do I get?”
“Five,” I reply too quickly. I know Tate, and he’ll use his remaining four chances to his advantage. “Ugh, just tell me where you’re taking me?”
Having finally cracked me, he smiles. “Dinner. Now I know you love that little tapas place down the street?” He chuckles, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
My insides flame.
The last time we went there, we had one too many spicy margs, and we ended up getting a little too handsy in the back alley of the restaurant.
“But,” he drawls. “I thought we could go somewhere fancier. I’ve booked us a table at La Forno. They have a huge waitlist, but when they found out who was calling, they made an exception.”
I swallow as I stare down at my outfit. Plain cigarette trousers and a beige blouse. Not nice enough for a fancy restaurant. “I don’t think I’m dressed for La Forno.”
Tate snaps his fingers. “Which is why I have a dress waiting for you in the car downstairs.”
“A car?” Tate can’t drive following his seizure.
“Yeah. I arranged a car service for us tonight. Wanted to make it extra special.” There’s a hopeful lilt to his tone, but I can’t ignore the twisting in my stomach. Tate knew my outfit wasn’t going to be good enough, and he came prepared. He probably didn’t want to be seen with someone in off-the-rack clothes.
