I twist the nude Lady Peep Sling Patent shoes around, staring at every inch of the gorgeous creation.
“Well, we had some discount. They seriously overstocked and the warehouse refused to take them back, so Fiona said we could use our end-of-line discount. Plus, I remembered I totally forgot your birthday because I was out of town. So this is a belated birthday present.”
“My birthday was nine months ago.”
“Eh, I forgot Christmas too.”
True.
“I can’t accept these,” I say, never taking my eyes from them.
“I paid cost price, darling. They’re yours.”
“I owe you so much wine.” I slip my foot in immediately and lift my leg in front of me. “Perfect fit! Oh, oh.” I reach over and grab Sean’s face, planting a huge smacker of a kiss on his cheek.
He flushes. “Well, yes.” He grabs his wine and finishes it in one go just as there’s a knock at my door.
I frown at Sean and take the shoe off, putting it back in the box. I pull my door open a crack and stop breathing when I see Tyler standing there. “What are you doing here?”
We haven’t spoken for three days—haven’t seen each other for four. It’s been a long week—quiet, but long. I’ve almost got used to having his arrogant, asshole-ish ways pissing me off. The days feel a little empty without it, if I’m honest.
“I need to talk to you,” he replies gruffly, curling his fingers around my door. “Can I come in?”
“I have company.”
Apparently that doesn’t deter him because he shoves the door open anyway.
“Hey!” I cry as he passes me.
Sean’s eyes flick between us, his eyebrows arching when his gaze settles on me. “I think I’ll be going.” A smile teases his lips as he stands.
“That’s probably a good idea.” I shoot a glare at Tyler. “Thank you for my shoes. They’re gorgeous.” I hug Sean tightly and kiss his cheek again. If only because something tells me it’ll piss off Tyler.
“I’d say anytime, but I don’t want you getting greedy.” Sean grins sassily and backs out of my apartment. “Have fun.” He closes the door behind him, leaving me face to face, and completely alone, with Tyler.
“Who was that?” Tyler questions.
“My neighbor,” I reply dryly.
“He’s a guy.”
“No shit, Sherlock. You could give Cumberbatch a run for his money with those excellent skills of deduction.” I snort.
Tyler picks up the shoe box. “A guy who’s your neighbor and buys you Louboutins?”
I snatch the box from him, set it on the sofa, and glare at him. “And Sean’s about as straight as a fucking Oreo, so I’m not sure what the problem is. I’m not even sure there should be a problem.”
Angus jumps from his perch on the windowsill and hisses at Tyler. I rub my hand across my eyes, walk to the kitchen, and grab a can of food from the cupboard.
“Angus,” I coo, tapping the can against his food bowl.
He prowls across the kitchen and dives in. Problem solved.
“You have a cat?”
“Obviously.” I put my hands on my hips and turn to him. “What do you want?”
Tyler walks to me and cups my jaw, running his thumb across it. “To talk to you.”
I smack his hand away. “You can do that over the phone. Or email. Or text.”
“I don’t have your email, and there’s no guarantee your feisty arse will text me back.”
I glare at him. “Talk. Now.”
His chuckle is low, hitting me deep in my stomach. Damn.
“Okay. Should I start?” I raise my eyebrows. “Why are you here?”
“You intrigue me, Liv.”
“Sounds like a pathetic excuse for a pick-up line to me.”
“If I was going to use a chat-up line, I know for a fact that wouldn’t work. It’d have to be something dirtier for you.”
I refuse to blush. “Don’t fuck around, Tyler. You’re here for a reason. Now I want to know what it is.”
He studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes flicking across my face and curving over my body. Then he steps forward, once again cupping my jaw, and speaks low. “You’ve driven me crazy ever since you walked into the photoshoot. I never planned to see you again after that fucking amazing night and couldn’t believe you were there. And you were so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, stepping closer to me. “You were so carefree and confident, like you belonged in front of a camera. In front of my camera. Everyone left and you didn’t realize because you were so into what you were doing.”
“It’s not my job to call the end of a shoot. It’s the photographer’s.”