Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (i am reading a book TXT) 📗

or politeness is simply coded in his DNA. Either way, he ignores my obviously embarrassed jabber and the maniacal way I’m picking my nails and nods.

“It would be our pleasure to welcome you at Kona Grill anytime you like, miss.”

I wave to him and walk down from their terrace to the small street where the restaurant is located.

I had Chelsea drop me off, hoping my evening might end on a positive note with Devon. Now I’ll need to take the bus home.

There isn’t anyone around, and I’m grateful for the quietude. The evening is unusually warm, even for May, but there’s also unusual moisture in the air. Thick, grey clouds cover the shrinking moon’s cusps.

As I trudge toward the bus stop with slumped shoulders, droplets moisten my skin, leaving wet smudges on my black skirt.

A loud thunder echoes through the air.

Well, it seems that even the sky knows that tonight is one to earmark.

Why else would it call upon an untypical, late-spring storm?

I stop and turn my face upwards. If this were my romance novel, this would be the perfect moment for the estranged lovers to reunite.

There’s just something incredibly fulfilling about rekindling in a tempest. It’s almost as if rain has the power to not only cleanse away literal dirt, but also any metaphorical impurity, to clear the path for a new, brighter future.

But I’m only interested in a future with Devon. And that’s not going to be happening, no matter how much water falls on me…

Numbness infuses my body, and the tears that were dwelling in my eyes while I waited in the restaurant find their free flow. Lukewarm rain drizzles on my cheeks and mixes with my own salty drops.

Eva was right.

My self-doubt and inferiority complex made me think that when faced with a choice between Morgan and me, Devon would surely choose her. Instead of giving Devon the chance to explain what happened, I drew conclusions based on my prejudices.

Why couldn’t I trust his actions and words? Why did I need to give credit to my foolish thoughts and fears?

I let the hollowness take possession of my innards. I don’t fight it; I indulge in it. I deserve to feel wretched. I hurt Devon. Badly.

I let the water bathe me, praying that it may blue pencil at least part of my guilt and misery.

My crying eventually calms down, and I open my arms and just stand quietly in the rain.

A short cough resounds behind my back.

Oops, my self-flagellation must be blocking someone’s path.

I quickly lower my arms and step to the side.

But nobody passes.

“Laia?”

My jaw plummets to my knees, and I whip around.

Devon’s cleft chin, pulled into a confused frown, greets me. He holds a red umbrella with the symbol of Kona Grill in one hand, while his other is hooked into the belt of his slim-cut, grey chinos.

“What are you doing here, Devon?” I ask.

“Ellie coaxed me into accompanying her to a sushi restaurant. When we arrived, she made me wait outside while she went in to consult with a waiter. Allegedly to inquire whether they had chicken katsu rolls. Then she dashed outside, shoved this umbrella into my hand, and sent me down this road to check when the next night bus is leaving.”

Despite the shock Devon’s appearance triggered, a small giggle escapes from my throat. “And you followed her whacky instructions?”

Devon snorts bemusedly. “I guess I did. I figured that Ellie had a hidden agenda, and I wanted to see what it was. Anyway, if I didn’t comply, she would’ve invented a way to make me, so it was easier to go with the flow. “Also…” He shrugs. “I kind of hoped you’d be her ulterior motive…”

He hoped his sister would lead him to me? Does this mean…?

Despite his perplexing phrase, Devon’s expression remains steeled.

Desperate to make him reveal something more, I ask, “Aren’t you upset that Ellie tricked you into meeting me?”

Devon tilts his head to the side but, instead of answering, his eyes wander slowly along my body. He walks to me, shifting his umbrella so it now covers me, too.

His sudden closeness and the intimate feel of being under the same umbrella awakens a tempest in me and threatens to buckle my knees.

To find some grounding, I press my hands firmly to my skirt. That’s when I notice it’s soaked.

I peer down at my own top, which is sticking to my bosom like a second skin.

My hair drips, and I can only imagine how the make-up Chelsea and Eva so masterfully smeared on my face must look.

“You’re wet. What were you doing out here in the rain?” he asks.

“I was…I…” Why does my mind shut off at this crucial moment?  

There’s so much I need to tell Devon. I’ve perfected my apology for hours with Eva and Chelsea. But now that I’m face-to-face with him, I can’t seem to muster a word.

I close my eyes and reopen them, hoping this brief exercise will jumpstart my brain.

It certainly does, but not in the way I’d have wished. Especially after my glance dips to Devon’s mouth.

Instead of my practiced plea, the thoughts that rush to my mind are either memories of how deliciously he tasted, or a yearning to savor him again.

“Laia? Why were you out here alone? If I’m interpreting this puzzle correctly, you were supposed to be in that restaurant. That’s why Ellie wanted me to go there with her?”

A weak smile tugs at his lower lip as he studies me.

Devon’s question finally cuts through my emotional haze.

“Yes, I called Ellie and asked her to help me arrange a dinner with you. But since you didn’t show up, I thought you wouldn’t come.”

His brows round. “If you wanted to eat with me, why didn’t you invite me directly?”

“Because of what happened between us in the hotel.”

Devon nods slowly. “Yes, I see.” But then he pauses. “No, wait a second, I don’t. Why did you want to dine with me at all? You quit your job and wished me farewell. I thought you never wanted to see me again. That’s what you wrote in