Zoey, my best friend since grade school, pops into my office, beaming and laughing.

“Drew,” she yelps as she rushes over to me, throwing her arms around my neck. “He asked me to marry him, and I said yes!”

“I’m so happy for you.” I smile and place a kiss on her cheek. “Though I still don’t believe he’s worthy of you, I'm happy you’re happy. We should celebrate soon.”

“You don’t think anyone is worthy of me.” She points her finger into my chest with her brow arched, as if daring me to argue the point. “Now, first things first. We need to discuss a little something I saw a few nights ago when I was at Alinea with George.”

It’s now my turn to give her a questioning stare as I watch her smug smile reach her eyes. “And what’s that?”

“I saw you and my adorable godson dining with an absolutely gorgeous woman. So, please feel free to give me all the details. And, when I say feel free, I do mean, tell me now.”

“It was nothing.”

“Lies.” She props herself on my desk and waves her legs back and forth while knowingly looking at me.

Zoey has always been able to see through me.

“I’ve known you for over twenty years, Drew love, so don’t think it’s best to lie to me. You should know by now that you’re unable to fool me. I can sense your lies, hesitation, and need to brush things off. Now, spill.”

“I’m not lying,” I mutter as I turn to focus on an email that came in.

Reagan Halloway

Meeting Request—RE: Stintson and Powel

I hover my mouse over the meeting invitation and feel Zoey’s chin rest on my shoulder.

“Is her name Reagan? Pretty name for a very pretty girl.”

“Go away, Zoey.” I use my shoulder to nudge her and gain some space. “Now, I don’t want to celebrate with you if you’re going to be a pain in my ass about this. It’s nothing,” I slowly say, hoping that she understands to leave it alone this time.

“Bullshit.”

She grabs me up from my office chair and drags me out of my office with her arm wrapped through mine. Remy’s in the hall with Reagan, and I let him know I’ll be out with Zoey. He nods, and I don’t miss the way Reagan’s looking at me and Zoey, trying to weigh the interaction between us.

* * *

Two days have passed since my lunch with Zoey, and I haven’t seen Reagan in the office, which has made my mood unpredictable. I’ve been snapping at my staff, and I didn’t keep track of what was said during an important meeting. Luckily, Remy covered for me, and we were able to secure the Stintson and Powel Corporation account, financing their employees’ 401(k) and retirement accounts.

The dinner Reagan and I shared with Dawson plays heavy in my head. I can’t stop thinking about her and the way she was with him. Normally, I don’t bring him around the women in my life. I don’t want to confuse him or have to explain as to why, on most occasions, he’ll never see them again after one or two nights at most. The casual women I see from time to time don’t know about him. He’s the part of my life I’m very private about. I don’t want him to get any ideas or expose him to my dating world. Although the dinner we had wasn’t a date, and Reagan’s an employee, so it shouldn’t matter.

But it fucking does.

Everything that’s happened since the day I met her until now has been fucking with my head. The longer we’re apart, the more I think about her and want her. I miss her feisty mouth and her attitude.

I’ve been working from the early morning until late at night. I’ve been burying myself in work since Jennifer has Dawson, and I haven’t seen him since the night she brought him to the restaurant. We don’t have a solid custody agreement. We share our time with him, and if either of us is out of town, the other one has Dawson. It works this way.

As hard as I’ve been working, busying myself with each account I’m handling, everything reminds me of Reagan. Whenever I see her name on an email or on messenger, I want to say something smart and piss her off.

The door to my office swings open, and Zoey walks in and sits on the chair in front of my desk.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? I’ve seen you twice in one week. I’m so lucky.”

“Cut the shit. I just talked to Remy, and he said you’re being an asshat again, so it’s my best friend duty to bring you out of this mood and rescue the rest of the staff from your inability to be cordial. So, pack it up, and come on. You’re coming with me, so I can feed you and be the pacifying best buddy you’re in need of. I will say, you look like shit, and I think you kinda smell, too. So, get your ass up, and let’s go.”

“I have meetings, Zoey,” I bite out, annoyed she thinks it’s okay to come into my office and tell me what to do. Actually, I think what annoys me more is that she’s calling me out on my shit. “I’m fine. I’m behind with work, and I need to get this done.”

“No,” she tells me, “you don’t. You work twenty-four/seven. It’s noon, and I’m sure you haven’t had anything to eat. Coffee doesn’t count, so let’s go. I’m starving, and there’s Thai takeout with our names on it.”

She claps twice, and when I don’t move, she pokes her head out of my office door and calls for Remy.

“Zoey!” I shout, getting up from my chair, and moving around my desk to bring her back inside my office. “What the hell are you doing? People are working, and there are clients in the office today. I don’t need this right now.”

She narrows her eyes at me due to the harsh tone I used on her. I'm normally not this complicated or stubborn, but I’m too frustrated to deal with her today.

“Let’s go then, or I will make a scene.”

“Fine.”

I shut off my computer and bring the files I need to review tonight before the meeting next week.

* * *

When we get to Zoey’s apartment, we sit on her living room floor with beer and Thai food scattered around.

I should’ve known better than to agree to lunch with her. Other than Remy, she’s the only person who knows me and everything I’m feeling. She can get me to admit and confess the things I’d rather keep bottled up inside.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I lean my head against the couch cushion and place the white take-out container on the ground before lifting my head again to answer. “My mother’s newest assistant, Reagan, has got this damn attitude and thinks she’s a godsend to the company. Everyone adores her, yet she rolls her eyes at me whenever I’m near her. She does her best to come nowhere near me.”

Zoey’s eyes widen, and she nods while eating her chicken pad Thai.

“I don’t know what it is about her. I can’t stop thinking about her, and that night George saw us, I watched how she was with Dawson. It felt good, seeing him laugh, and how she treated him was something I’ve never seen from his own mother.”

I don’t go on. As little as I’ve said, when I turn to Zoey, I know she knows exactly what I’m feeling. She’s notorious for reading me like an open book, and she knows what to do to get me to open up. The look on her face tells me she knows everything she needs to know. She’s processing my words, allowing them to set her mind into overdrive. That look she has on her face is going to get me in trouble; I just know it.

“You need to ask her to dinner. Be nice to her, and stop barking at her every chance you get. I know you, Drew. It’s been a few years since your divorce, and you’re still letting that bitch hold you back. I get that Dawson is your world, but when are you going to take the time to be happy? Dawson and the company aren’t going to make you complete—not fully at least. I’ve seen you with so many different women over the years that I’ve lost count. No one’s gotten to you like this, not even Jennifer.”

“I don’t know how to approach Reagan. She’s so shielded and restrained. I don’t think one date will be enough to show her how I feel.”

“Then, try for one, and see where it leads you.”

* * *

The next morning, when I get into the office, I place a venti latte on Reagan’s desk and leave her a note, wishing her a good day.

I take off my suit jacket and power on my computer before tackling my eight-thirty conference call. Before I make the call, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” I tell whoever’s at the door.

I don’t look up until I’m connected with the call and let them know I’m present for the meeting. When I press mute, I look up and see Reagan. She’s wearing a slimming black dress with capped sleeves. Her toned and tan arms look smooth, and the way she has her hair tied to one side, cascading past her shoulder—

Damn, she looks beautiful.

She points to her ear, and I nod.

“Just wanted to be sure you were on mute before I said anything.”

“It’s okay. What’s up?”

“Thank you for the coffee this morning. It wasn’t necessary, and honestly, you don’t have to do that. You owe me nothing. I appreciate it—truly, I do—but please, let’s keep this professional.”

I questionably look at her and try to figure out what’s wrong with getting her coffee. “I was there anyway, Reagan. It’s not a big deal.”

She remains silent for a moment, just staring at me, as if she has so much to say but is unsure of how to actually speak the words. “But you got me coffee—a latte to be exact—and you knew exactly what I wanted. How?”

I shrug. “I overheard you telling my mother what kind you liked, so I remembered. It’s fine.”

“Well, it’s not fine,” she barks before suddenly clearing her throat, as if attempting to calm herself. “Please don’t do it anymore.”

Before I’m able to say anything, she quickly turns and walks out of my office, leaving me stunned and confused.

“What the fuck just happened?”

My phone conference lasts for fifteen minutes before I’m out of my office, walking toward Reagan’s desk, when I hear her voice spilling out from Remy’s office. I’m just outside the door, and I can see and hear what’s going on without them knowing I’m here like a creeper.

“Thanks for the muffin.” Her tone’s light and carefree, unlike how she was with me earlier.

“I was at the bakery across the street and got a few, so I thought you’d like one. It’s not a problem, so there’s no need for thanks.”

They’re smiling at one another. Remy reaches over and places his hand on her forearm, and she doesn’t jerk away.

Like she has with me.

It’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to walk in and demand answers from her. Why’s Remy allowed to be nice when she unleashes hell on me when I do it?

But that’s something I’m not going to do. Quietly, I head back to my office and bury myself back in work.

I know I’m a damn asshole with walls built up around my life. This is how it’s been since the divorce. There’s too much of my life I need to protect, so getting attached to some woman I don’t know needs to end. The company and Dawson are my priorities. Everything else can wait.