The Dating Experiment Final Page 5

  “Here’s an idea—fuck yourself,” Peyton muttered in her direction.

  I laughed. “Okay, back on track, guys. Seriously, Warren is lovely. He’s a great guy, and I’m excited to see him again. I really think it’s just about me finding someone I’m so interested in that I can’t help but get over Dom.”

  They both paused at that.

  Unfortunately, as I said it, it made me sound like a selfishly horrible person.

  “Oh God, does this make me a horrible person?” I asked quietly, dropping my still-half-eaten donut into the box. “Using someone to get over Dom?”

  “Are you gonna get under him?” Peyton asked.

  “And you’re occasionally in charge of a child?” Mellie jerked her head around to look at her. “Peyton!”

  “It’s a genuine question!” She held out her hands. “And my response depends on her answer!”

  Mellie rolled her eyes and looked at me. “Chloe, I’ll be honest with you. Yes. It makes you selfish. The only reason you’re dating him is to get over the tool next door.”

  Peyton coughed.

  “Oh, he’s a tool, and you know it,” Mellie said, shooting her a look. “But Chloe, hon, you’re not entirely a dick. I mean, you like him. You see potential there. You’re interested in getting to know him better. That doesn’t make you selfish—that just makes you human. You’re not perfect.”

  “Oh! It’s like Monica and Pete!” Peyton clapped her hands together. “You know, she dated him because he was handsome and really nice, but it was only when they parted that she realized she was attracted to him? And that was when she was getting over Richard. Maybe Warren is your Pete.”

  “Peyton, they broke up,” I reminded her.

  She waved her hand. “Only because he started fighting. Does Warren look like the fighting type?”

  “I don’t know. It didn’t come up in conversation, funnily enough.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. But I still stand by it. Even if he’s only your stepping stone to getting over my brother, it doesn’t matter. Everyone who enters your life is there for a reason, and sometimes that reason is a lesson.”

  I blinked at her. “Lay off the parenting. You’re getting way too philosophical for my liking.”

  Mellie giggle-snorted.

  “I get it, Peyt. Okay? I get it. Thanks. I’ll think over my selfishness.” I picked my donut back up, and just before I took a bite, I said, “Hey—did Dom mention anything about his date to you?”

  She tilted her head slightly to the side and met my eyes. “No. Why? Should he have? I know y’all were at the same restaurant.”

  “Ouch,” Mellie muttered.

  “Yeah. We were a few tables away from each other.”

  “Double ouch,” she muttered again.

  I waved my hand dismissively in her direction. “He looked like he had a really bad night. Just before we left, he texted me a pretty shit message, and when we were outside, and I was about to get in my Uber, he looked at me like he was ready to kill me.”

  Her and Mellie shared a look before Peyton shook her head. “No. But I haven’t spoken to him, really. Maybe he had a bad date?”

  “That’s what I thought, but—” I paused, then gave myself a shake. “Hey, we all make mistakes. Maybe I got it wrong for him. It wouldn’t be the first time I was slightly off the mark.”

  “That’s probably it,” Mellie said. “Not everyone is who they claim on the internet. For instance—our new bar girl? She claims she’s a size four with natural blonde hair. Not that I’m judging, but she’s a beautiful size twelve with not-so-blonde hair, so maybe his date wasn’t all she was cracked up to be.”

  She was right about that. It wasn’t the first time I’d come across a profile from someone who was less than honest.

  “It makes sense,” I said. “Well, we have a meeting today to talk about it, so I’ll ask him.”

  Another glance passed between my best friends.

  “Good idea,” Peyton said.

  “Yep. Good idea,” Mellie echoed.

  Chapter Six – Dom

  Turns out, you’re not always the fucking saint you think you are.

  Even if your idea of being a saint is deluded.

  Taptaptap.

  Taptaptap.

  Taptaptap.

  That was the sound of my fingers as they beat rhythmically against the solid wood top of my desk. Chloe was coming—I knew she was. I knew she was across the hall with my sister and Mellie, inevitably talking about her date last night.

  The date that had gone well.

  The date she’d smiled through. The date she’d laughed through. The date she’d enjoyed until the very last second when he’d had to pull away from that goodnight kiss, and she met my eyes.

  I’d never loved an Uber driver more than in that moment. I hadn’t even meant it. I hadn’t meant to be so angry—so furious and agitated, but I hadn’t been prepared for it.

  Sure. I could take her bright smiles and her melodic laughter as he’d wooed and swooned her. As he’d wined and dined her.

  I had to. I had to accept it. I had to push it aside to give my date—what the hell was her name again?—the attention she’d deserved.

  That didn’t stop the fucking punch in the gut when we’d walked outside, and I’d seen them kissing. Seen him with his hand in her damn blonde hair and her ever-red nails against the blue of his shirt.

  Seen his fucking lips on hers.

  I had no claim to her. No claim to those glossy, red lips she sported on a daily basis. No claim to her nails creasing my shirt or her eyes roving my body the way hers did to him as he walked to the bathroom.

  Fuck.

  I shoved myself away from my desk and walked into the kitchen. I wasn’t going to get anything remotely productive done while I was this frustrated, so there was no point even trying.

  Besides, Chloe was due to get here any second, and I needed to calm down before she got here.

  I also needed to remember that she wasn’t mine. That Peyton was right. Unless I was willing to be honest and tell her that I had feelings for her, I had no right to feel this way.

  I also couldn’t tell her. I had to keep reminding myself of that. It was a giant loop of fucking reminders that never seemed to stop.

  Why did I have to fall in love with my sister’s best friend? The only person in this world I couldn’t get along with to save my life?

  At this point, I could have a gun to my head, and I still wouldn’t be able to get along with her.

  I yanked the drip tray from the coffee machine and threw it into the sink to wash out. It clattered, splashing the chrome sides with yesterday’s coffee, but I shrugged it off to change out the coffee pod and get the water tank out.

  After refilling the water, I gave the drip tray the wash it badly needed and put the machine back together.

  Why was I doing this? What did it fucking matter if Chloe hated me? Why didn’t I just tell her how I felt? It was blowing up in my face either way, so what did it really matter?

  Nothing would change, except her knowledge of my feelings. Feelings I was going to lock away and move on from anyway.

  I put my mug under the machine and hit the button. It whirred to life, filling the kitchen with its noise.

  I bent forward and grabbed the edge of the counter, dropping my head down. My lips parted as I blew out a long breath, and I briefly closed my eyes.

  This was why my sister didn’t date until Elliott.

  Dating was bullshit. More trouble than it was worth.

  “Dominic!” Chloe’s yell cut through the final sputter of the coffee machine.

  Here we go.

  “What did I do this time?” I asked, straightening.

  “Why isn’t the internet working?”

  I turned to see her in the doorway. She stood, leaning against one side, arms folded across her chest. She wore her usual leather jacket, and today it was partnered with light-blue jeans and heeled boots.

  A
nd her expression? Well, I’d seen it a million times before.

  Wide, angry eyes. A hard-set jaw. Red lips in a firm line.

  The hint that she was contemplating my murder.

  “Oh. I didn’t pay the bill yet.” I stirred milk into my coffee and glanced back at her. “Relax. I was going to do it today.”

  “Why didn’t you pay the bill? It’s an automatic charge.”

  Jesus. She really was going to kill me.

  “Well, see,” I paused, “The business card is missing, so I have to get online and do it.”

  Disbelief slowly clouded her features, pushing the anger out of her eyes. “You lost the business card? Dom! What the hell?”

  “Hey, there’s no proof I lost it.” I pointed at her. “For all we know, it was stolen.” I grabbed my mug and slid past her back into my office.

  “Oh, well, thank God for that,” she said dryly, turning around to face me. “That’s so much better than it potentially being down the back of your sofa.”

  Yep. Telling her about the stupid feelings I had for her was not a good idea.

  “Look, it’s fine. I called as soon as I realized yesterday and put a block on it.” I set the mug down on my desk. “They’re sending another, and it’ll be here in a few days.”

  “You’re not reassuring me. If I didn’t know you were such a forgetful klutz, I’d say you’re deliberately trying to put this business under.” She tossed her purse on the chair on the other side of my desk. “When did you lose it?”

  Lie. I was going to lie.

  “Yesterday. I used it the day before to order printer ink, so it definitely disappeared within a few hours.”

  That seemed to placate her a little because she looked a little less like a Rottweiler waiting to maul me in the crotch.

  “Right. Did you check the account for charges?”

  “Going to do today,” I replied. “As well as call the internet company and pay that bill right now, so it gets switched back on.”

  “Damn right,” she muttered. “So, can we use your WiFi?”

  “My apartment WiFi?”

  “No, your car’s.”

  She was such a fucking smartass.

  “No. It’s linked with the business account. Peyton’s isn’t, though.”

  Chloe did a double-take. “It isn’t? It was. We set it up for both offices.”

  Aw, shit.

  I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t trust me not to lose the business card where it’s registered, so…”

  “I can’t imagine why.” She ground her teeth together again, then paused. Her mouth opened, eyes widening. “Oh my God. This isn’t the first time you’ve lost the card, is it?”

  Shit.

  Shit, fuck, shit.

  “No,” I muttered.

  “Dominic! Oh my God!” She ran her hand through her blonde hair, dropping her head back with a groan. “I don’t know who put you in charge around here.”

  I cleared my throat. “I’m the oldest. And, technically, I just kind of assumed command around here naturally.”

  “Why? Because you’re the alpha male?”

  “Well—”

  “The nail on my baby toe is more alpha than you.”

  I stared at her. “Bank cards are easy to lose. Keys are easy to lose. Maybe I’m too busy making sure that all the business expenses are compiled since you’re incapable of printing off a few sheets of paper for online receipts every week.”

  “Hey!” She jabbed a scarlet-red fingernail in my direction. “There’s a big difference between keeping hold of a bank card and a key than email receipts.” She pressed three fingers to her forehead and let go a deep breath. “Fine, whatever. It’s too early to argue with you, and I woke up late, so.”

  I grunted, picking up my coffee and quickly swallowing some of the hot liquid to hide it.

  “What was that for?” she asked, dropping her hand and raising an eyebrow. “Did you stay up too late last night or something?”

  I knew what she was asking.

  Did I fuck—what the hell was her name?—on the first date?

  “Not particularly,” I replied. “My mood just takes a turn for the worse whenever I see your face.”

  “Ugh.” She waved her hand in my direction and stalked off toward the kitchen.

  I smiled behind my coffee as I watched her go.

  And to think. We still had to have our conversation about how our dates went.

  I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

  ***

  “All right, let’s get this over and done with.” Chloe finally emerged from the kitchen twenty minutes later. Moving her purse from the chair to the floor, she sat down and set her oversized Daisy Duck mug on my desk in front of her. “Let’s talk about these stupid dates.”

  I quirked a brow. “Did yours not go well? It didn’t look that way to me.”

  Something flitted across her face, but her expression barely faltered. “It was a perfectly lovely first date,” she said, sitting with a poker face.

  “Perfectly lovely? Jesus, Chloe. Are you describing a bunch of flowers or a date?”

  “It was great.” She shifted. “Really. He’s a really nice guy, and I’m excited to get to know him better. We’re seeing each other this weekend. That’s all there is to it, Dom. You picked well, as much as I hate to admit it.”

  Not half as much as I hated to hear it.

  “Yeah, well,” I grunted, shoving my mouse to one side. “I’m good at my job,” I muttered, diverting my gaze from her.

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “That was never in doubt. I didn’t go into business with a clam, did I?”

  “Did you just pay me a compliment? It might have been a little backhanded, but I’ll take what I can get with you.”

  “Did you feel me stroke your ego?”

  “If you did, it didn’t react.”

  She pursed her lips into a glossy red pout. The annoyance stretched up to her eyes where her brows were slightly turned down, and her gaze belied her annoyance. “Has anyone ever told you how intolerable you are?”

  “I tend not to speak with people who don’t like me. You are, of course, excluded from that narrative.”

  “You’re intolerable,” Chloe continued. “I cannot believe that after a successful date, you still feel the need to piss me off. Never mind James Bond having a license to kill—it’s like you have a license to be killed.”

  “Is the license yours?”

  “With any luck,” she snapped. “Now, cut the shit and tell me how your date went.”

  “It was perfectly lovely,” I said with a smirk.

  “If you’re not going to take this seriously…”

  “I never said I wasn’t. I was using the same terminology you used.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “As far as first dates go, it was a good one. She talked a little too much about herself, but what woman doesn’t?”

  Chloe’s stare was flat and cold. “How the hell does anyone let you match them with an attitude like that?”

  I laughed, unmoving. “I was kidding. She was great. Beautiful. She really did talk a bit too much, but whatever. I was too consumed by the way her tits tried to escape from her shirt.”

  “And here I was, wondering how you made almost thirty years without getting married, you pig,” she muttered.

  “Same reason you made it twenty-seven years without getting married. It takes a special kind of person to marry an asshole.”

  “I’ll be sure to confirm that with your future wife.”

  “You can try, but I’m determined you’ll never meet her,” I shot back. “I’d buy you out of the business before that happened.”

  She snorted. “Like you could afford my half, Dominic. I match more than you, and you know it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. So, are you having a second date with Rachael?”

  Rachael. That was her name. Thank fuck she mentioned it.

  “Ye
p,” I said. “I’m calling her tomorrow.”

  Chloe’s eyes flitted across my face for a moment before her lips twitched into a smug little smile. “You forgot her name, didn’t you?”

  “No,” I said through a clenched jaw.

  That smile grew, and it danced in her eyes. “You’re the worst liar ever. Your date went so well you forgot her name.”

  “I thought it was Raquel. Easy to mix up.”

  “You’re not Paolo, Dom.”

  “Who the fuck is Paolo?”

  “The Italian guy from Friends who calls Rachel, Raquel?”

  I shook my head.

  She sighed and waved her hand at me. “Whatever. Never mind. So, we’re both going on second dates this weekend?”

  I jerked my head in agreement. “With any luck.”

  “All right. So, we work until then, and we’ll get together to see if we’re both going on a third.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  She picked up her mug and her purse as she stood. “’Kay. I have a meeting with a new client in twenty minutes, so I’ll see you later.”

  I nodded, turning back to my computer. “I have a lunch meeting with a client, so I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

  “A lunch meeting?” She paused at the temporary wall we had to separate our offices. “A new client?”

  Shaking my head, I barely glanced up at her as I said, “Ruby.”

  “Ruby?” She coughed, but it sounded a hell of a lot like she was trying not to laugh. “And she can’t come here?”

  I knew what she was getting at. “No. She’s working and doesn’t have time to come across the city, so…”

  “Sure, she doesn’t.” She dropped her hand and smirked. “You know the only thing she wants to date is what’s inside your pants, don’t you?”

  “Chloe.”

  She held up one hand and backed into her office. “All right, all right.”

  I blew out a long breath and rubbed my hand over my eyes.

  Hell, even if Ruby did want what was inside my pants, at least somebody fucking did.

  Chapter Seven – Chloe

  Sometimes, all you need is a lunchtime sangria and donuts.

  And by sometimes, I mean all the time.