Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (reading eggs books txt) 📖

Slowly the words he sings make their way into my mind. Up until now, I’ve been so caught up with the acoustic of his voice that I didn’t recognize what song he was playing.

Everybody needs somebody to love…

It’s more a soul than a jazz song. I wonder why he picked it. Is it a joke to me? A provocation?

Devon glances up while his hands continue playing. His gaze travels to me, and I spot a mischievous glint in his eyes.

That, or I’ve drunk too much.

But I like the idea that it’s there—more than I probably should.

Ellie hands me another glass, and I take it, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks.”

She bends closer and whispers, “I used to tell him that if a woman heard him play, she would ultimately fall in love with him.”

I snap my head to her, because her words are too spot-on to be coincidental.

Can she see how my heart is jumping around in my chest? Or is my ragged breathing betraying me?

“Is that why you invited me here?” I ask Ellie. “Devon told me you’re trying to fix him up. But he doesn’t like it.”

Ellie twirls her glass around and a piece of strawberry on the rim falls into her drink. “Devon doesn’t know what he needs, but I do. He needs a good girl he can fall for. Only that will heal his soul.”

At the unmistakable conclusion about who she has in mind for her brother, my neck begins to itch.

I wouldn’t mind being that girl.

Especially now that I’m listening to Devon’s voice singing this utterly romantic song.

The problem is all evidence suggests I can’t be. Even if I tried…

I lift my glass. “Well, cheers to that. But please don’t place your bets on me. I’m not the right person to save your brother.” I quickly swallow a few gulps from my drink because saying these words out loud makes me sad.

This second cocktail is more potent than the first; it burns my throat and sends a direct heat into my stomach. But at least it also dissipates a bit of my sorrow.

Ellie smacks her lips. “We’ll see about that. Something tells me you could be exactly the right person for this job. And my hunches are usually good.”

Except this time.

I’m way out of my league with a man like Devon. I was with Bobby, my high-school crush, and he was…I can’t even mention him on the same page with Devon.

Intellectually. Charisma-wise. Or physically.

Ellie flutters her hands above her head as if signaling to somebody.

A blond man with an Elvis haircut walks to us.

“Hi, kiddo,” he greets Ellie with a kiss on her cheek. Then he turns to me. “Hi, Laia.”

I stare at him wide-eyed.

The guy indeed looks like “the King” only in blonde, but even if his face seems familiar, I’m sure I’ve never met him.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” I say.

He grins. “No, we haven’t. But I do know you. I’m Pete, Devon’s friend.”

Ah, the friend under whose wings a heartbroken Devon turned into a careless playboy.

“Your boss has told me many great things about you,” Pete adds.

“Did he?” I answer, while my eyes wander to the stage.

To my surprise, Devon is staring at me.

His brows are set in a furrowed line, even as he plays a new song, a classic from Bud Powell.

I don’t know what has gotten into me, maybe the Bellini’s naughty kick, but I give Devon a long, lingering glance before I turn back to Pete.

From the corner of my eyes, I see Devon’s still watching me. I exchange Pete’s smile with a flirty one of my own. “Well, that’s lovely to hear. Though I’m not sure I deserve so much praise.”

My voice is drenched in that faux-modesty that I’ve often observed Chelsea use with men when she wants to trick them into complimenting her.

Pete shakes his head. “Oh, no. My friend didn’t exaggerate one bit with his words, I assure you.”

Ellie clears her throat and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Is your cocktail good?”

While I confirm that it indeed is, Pete intercepts Devon’s gaze. He smacks his lips, spreading his fingers like the petals of a rosebud.

Devon’s face tenses, and his fingers miss a note, which makes the refrain of “Bouncing with Bud” edgier than it was supposed to be.

My chest warms at his mistake. I can’t help but hope my coquettish behavior contributed to this slip.

Pete pivots back to us, chuckling. “So, beautiful ladies, what are you drinking?”

I hold up my cocktail. “I don’t remember the name, but it has perfectly blended strawberries and lots of bubbles.”

Pete wiggles his brows. “Sounds just the right kind of drink then. I’ll also get—”

Before he can continue, Ellie jumps up. “Before you do that, Pete, there’s something important I’d like to discuss with you…in private. Do you mind if we step outside?”

Pete looks bewildered at first, then shrugs. “Of course, kiddo. I know better than to contradict you when you have this determined glint in your eyes. Your wish, my command.” He blinks at me. “Will you be fine on your own, Laia?”

“Suurrre.” Okay, this last ‘r’ rolled off a bit funnily. Maybe my tongue has gotten larger in the past minute?

“Devon will stop playing soon and keep her company,” Ellie chimes in. “You and I surely won’t be missed.”

Pete gives Ellie a suspicious glare then nods. “Ah, I see. See you later, Laia. Maybe.”

Before I can make sense of why he added this weird ‘maybe’, he turns and walks toward the exit.

Ellie leans close to me. “Laia, may I ask you a favor?”

The wheels of my brain turn slower than usual. “How can I help with that?”

Ellie smiles. “Simple. When Devon is done with his performance, keep him occupied so he doesn’t come looking for us. Got it?”

I want to answer, “got-it-what-if,” but I manage to stop myself.

She wouldn’t find it particularly funny. And it probably isn’t. Only the devilish pink liquid in my belly makes me think it is.

So I just nod.

Ellie flashes me a smile then hurries off after Pete.

My eyes roam