Chapter 3
Annalise
“I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe.” I pulled out a chair and looked around for a waiter before I’d even sat down.
“And here I thought you wanted to hang out with me because of my winning personality, not the free meal you get every week.”
My best friend, Madison, had the best job in the world—a food critic for the San Francisco Observer. Four nights a week, she went to a different restaurant for a meal that would eventually turn into a review. On Thursdays, I joined her. Basically she was my free meal ticket. More often than not, it was the only day I left the office before nine and the only decent meal I ate all week because of the sixty-hour workweeks I tended to put in.
A lot of good that’s done me.
The waiter walked over and extended the wine menu. Madison waved him off. “We’ll have two merlots…whatever you recommend is fine.”
The order was her standard answer, and I knew it was the first step in reviewing the restaurant’s service. She liked to evaluate what the waiter brought. Would he ask her questions about her taste so he could make a good choice? Or go for the most expensive glass on the menu for the sole purpose of maximizing his tip?
“No problem. I’ll pick something out.”
“Actually.” I held up a finger. “Can I change that order, please? Make that one merlot and one Tito’s and seltzer with lime.”
“Of course.”
Madison barely waited until the waiter was out of earshot. “Uh-oh. Vodka seltzer. What happened? Is Andrew seeing someone?”
I shook my head. “No. Worse.”
Her eyes widened. “Worse than Andrew seeing someone? You had a car accident again?”
Well, maybe I exaggerated a little. Finding out my boyfriend of eight years was dating another woman would definitely devastate me. Three months ago, he’d told me he needed a break. Not exactly the three little words I had expected him to say at the end of our night out for Valentine’s Day dinner. But I’d tried to be understanding. He’d had a lot of change over the last year—his second novel had tanked, his sixty-year-old father was diagnosed with liver cancer and died three weeks to the day after the diagnosis, and his mother decided to remarry only nine months after becoming a widow.
So I agreed to the temporary separation, even though his idea of a break was more Ross than Rachel—we were both free to see other people, if we wanted to. He’d sworn there was no one else, and it wasn’t his intention to go out and sleep around. But he also felt an agreement not to see other people would keep us tethered and not allow him the freedom he felt he needed.
And when it came to driving… I’d hated it ever since the first month I got my license because of a pretty bad accident that had turned me into a nervous driver. I’d never gotten over it. Just last year I’d had a small fender bender in a parking lot, and any of my fear that had been quelled reared its ugly head. Another accident so soon might push me over the edge.
“Maybe not as bad as that,” I said. “But it’s up there.”
“What happened? Bad first day at the new office? And here I was thinking I’d get to hear about all the hot guys at the new place of employment.”
Madison didn’t understand Andrew’s need for a break, and she’d been encouraging me to get back out in the dating world and move on.
The waiter arrived with our drinks, and Madison told him we weren’t ready to order. She asked him to give us ten minutes to decide.
I sipped my vodka. It burned going down. “Actually, there was one hot guy.”
She put her elbows on the table and rested her head atop her hands. “Details. Give me details about him. The story about your bad day can wait.”
“Well…he’s tall, has bone structure a sculptor would envy, and reeks of confidence.”
“How does he smell?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get close enough to sniff him.” I plucked the lime from the rim of my glass and squeezed the juice into my drink. “Well, that’s not true. I did. But when he was that close, we were in a supply closet, and all I could smell was cleaning supplies and musty water.” I sipped.
Madison’s eyes lit up. “You didn’t! The two of you…in the supply closet on your first day at the new office?”
“I did. But it’s not what you think.”
“Start from the beginning.”
I smirked. “Alright.”
She definitely thought this story was going to have a different ending.
“I had a trunk full of last-minute boxes with files and junk from my old office that had to be moved into the new space. I tried to find a parking spot, but there was nothing for blocks…so I parked illegally and made a few trips up to the office with my stuff. On my next-to-last trip down, there was a ticket on my windshield.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it. Almost two-hundred bucks for those these days.”
“Crappy start to the day,” she said. “But it could have been worse, I suppose, with you and cars.”
I had to laugh. “Oh, it got worse. That was the best part of my day.”
“What else happened?”
“The meter maid was a few cars away from mine, still giving out tickets. I figured I’d already gotten the ticket, so I might as well finish my unloading. I carried the last of my boxes up to my new office, and when I came back downstairs, every car had a ticket to match mine. Except one. The car parked right in front of me.”
“So the car arrived after the cop left, evading the ticket?”
“Nope. I’m positive it was there before me. She just skipped that one. The reason I’m certain is that it was the same make and model Audi I have, only a newer year. The first time I passed it, I peeked inside to see if they had changed anything in the interior on the newer edition. I noticed there was a pair of driving gloves with the Porsche logo on the front seat. So I know it was the same car that had been parked there for more than an hour because the gloves were still there.”
Madison sipped her wine and scrunched up her face.
“The wine’s not good?”
“No, it’s fine. But driving gloves? Only race car drivers and pompous jerks wear driving gloves.”
I tipped my drink to her before bringing it to my lips. “Exactly! That’s exactly what I thought when I saw them. So I re-gifted my parking ticket to the pompous jerk. My car was the same make, model, and color. Why should I have been out two-hundred bucks when Mr. Porsche gloves hadn’t gotten a fine? The ticket didn’t have a name, only the make, model, and VIN number of the car, and the license plate on my carbon copy was barely legible. I figured he wouldn’t know his VIN and would probably pay it—he was parked illegally, after all.”
My best friend smiled from ear to ear. “You’re my hero.”
“You might want to let me finish the story before you declare that.”
Her smile wilted. “You got caught?”
“I didn’t think so. But I had a little mishap. When I leaned over and lifted the wiper to tuck the ticket underneath, somehow a piece of my hair got caught and tangled.”
Madison’s brow furrowed. “In the wiper blade?”
“I know. Strange. But it was so windy today, and when I went to unwind it, I made it worse. You know my crazy thick hair. I could lose a hairbrush in it for a few days and no one would notice. These waves have a mind of their own.”
“How did you get it out?”
“I yanked until it came free. Only when it finally detached from the car, the windshield wiper was attached to my hair instead of the brand-new Audi it belonged to.”
Madison’s hand flew to her mouth as she cracked up. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you leave the owner a note?”
I took a healthy gulp of my drink, which tasted a little better the more I drank. “Does the ticket count as a note?”
“Well…at least there’s an upside?”
“There is? Tell me, because right about now, after the day I had, I’m not seeing any upside at all.”
“There’s a Greek god in the office. That’s good. How long has it been since you’ve been on a date—eight years?”
“Trust me. The Greek god won’t be asking me out on a date.”
“Married?”
“Worse.”
“Gay?”
I laughed. “Nope. He’s the owner of the Audi I vandalized and then re-gifted my parking ticket to, and apparently he saw me do it.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah. Crap. Oh, and I have to work with him on a daily basis.”
“Oh shit. What does he do?”
“He’s the regional creative director for the company we merged with.”
“Wait a minute. Isn’t that your title?”
“Yep. And there’s only room for one of us.”
A waiter who wasn’t even ours walked by. Madison put out her hand and grabbed him. “We need another vodka seltzer and glass of merlot. Immediately.”
***
The next morning, I made a stop on the way to the office. As much as I hated what was happening with my job, apparently, I was going to have to work with Bennett for the next few months. And…let’s face it, I’d been wrong. I’d damaged his car and left a parking ticket instead of a note. If someone had done that to me... Well, I doubted I would be even as polite as he’d been throughout the day. He’d waited until we were alone to call me out on my shit, when he could’ve made me look bad in front of my new boss.
His car was illegally parked in the same spot as yesterday when I arrived. Last night, when I’d replayed the day in my head, I thought perhaps his car had been skipped over by accident because the meter maid lost track and thought she’d ticketed it already since it looked identical to mine from the outside. But if that were the case, and he’d already gotten away with it once, why would he park there again today and risk getting another ticket?
There were only a few logical answers. One, he was rich and arrogant. Two, he was an idiot. Or three, he knew he wouldn’t be getting a parking ticket.
Bennett’s office door was closed, but I noticed from the bottom that his light was on. I lifted my hand to knock, but hesitated. It would’ve been easier if he weren’t so damn good looking.
Grow a pair, Annalise.
I straightened my spine and stood tall before knocking loudly on the door. After a minute, relief started to wash over me as I decided Bennett wasn’t in there. He must have left his light on. I was just about to turn away when, without warning, the door whipped open.
I jumped in surprise and clutched my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Bennett removed one earbud from his ear. “Did you just say I scared you?”
“Yes. I wasn’t expecting you to open the door.”
He pulled the other earbud out and let them dangle around his neck. His brow furrowed. “You knocked on my office door but weren’t expecting me to open it?”
“Your door was shut, and it was quiet. I didn’t think you were in there.”
Bennett held up his iPhone “I just got back from my run. Had my earbuds in.”
Music blared from them, and I recognized the song.
“‘Enter Sandman?’ Really?” My voice hinted at my amusement.
“What’s wrong with Metallica?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. You just don’t look like someone who listens to Metallica.”
He squinted. “And exactly what do I look like I listen to?”
I gave him the onceover. He wasn’t dressed in the expensive suit and wingtips he’d had on yesterday. Yet even wearing casual clothes—a body-hugging black Under Armour T-shirt and low-hanging sweats—there was something about him that reeked of refinement.
Although the way that vein bulged from his bicep was more fine than refinement at the moment. Bennett was older than me, I’d guess—early thirties, perhaps—but his body was firm and muscular, and I imagined he looked even more incredible without that shirt on.
Blinking myself back from a semi-daze, I remembered he’d asked me a question. “Classical. I would have taken you for more of a classical music person than Metallica.”
“That’s kind of stereotyping, isn’t it? In that case, what should I assume about you? You’re blond and beautiful.”
“I’m not stupid.”
He folded his arms over his chest and cocked one brow. “You did get your head stuck to the windshield of my car.”
He had a point. And I was most definitely not starting off on the right foot by arguing with him again this morning. Getting myself back on track, I held up the long, slim package I’d picked up on my way to the office.
“That reminds me, I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
Bennett seemed to assess me for a minute. Then he took the wiper blade from my hand. “How the hell did you get your hair stuck to my car, anyway?”
I felt my face heat. “Let me start off by saying cars aren’t my thing. I don’t like to drive them, and have crap luck with them working properly. At the old office, I could walk to work. Now I have to drive every day. Anyway, I got a parking ticket yesterday morning while I was unpacking boxes from my car. We happen to have the same make, model, and color Audi. Yours was parked illegally, too, but you hadn’t gotten a ticket. So I tried to put mine under your windshield wiper, hoping you would pay it. Only a gust of wind came, and my hair somehow got tangled when I lifted the wiper. When I tried to unravel it, I made it worse. I really didn’t mean to vandalize your car.”
His face wasn’t giving anything away. “You only meant to make me pay your parking ticket, not break my wiper.”
“That’s right.”
He smirked. “Now it all makes sense.”
Bennett had a water bottle in his hand. He brought it to his lips and took a long gulp, his eyes never leaving me. When he was done, he nodded.
“Apology accepted.”
“Really?”
“We have to work together. Might as well keep it professional.”
I was relieved. “Thank you.”
“I shower at the gym downstairs after my morning run. Give me about twenty minutes, and we can get started going over our accounts.”
“Okay. Great. See you in a bit.”
Maybe I’d underestimated Bennett. Just because he was good looking, I had assumed he would be an egomaniac, and I’d never live down my moment of insanity. When I reached my supply closet office, I jiggled the key in the lock. It was stuck, but eventually it clanked and the door opened. The smell of cleaning supplies immediately permeated my nose. At least I understood why he’d stuck me in here now. Sighing, I flicked on the light and was surprised to find someone had left a bag on my desk.
Assuming it was probably the janitor, I picked it up to move it to where the other chemicals were piled and spotted a handwritten note on top.
You’ll be needing this. —Bennett
A gift for me?
Setting my laptop and purse down, I dug inside the bag. It was light—definitely not cleaning chemicals—and the contents were wrapped in tissue paper.
Curious, I unwrapped it.
A cowboy hat?
What?
You’ll be needing this.
Hmm…
You’ll be needing this.
As in, for my job.
In Texas.
Maybe Bennett wasn’t that mature after all.