Chapter 4

“Well, this is new.”

Emily’s words were in line with her eyebrows-low.

She scowled at Bernadette as her glance traced over Tyson with a lack of recognition that surprised Bernadette considering the damn man looked the same as he had when he’d left them behind all those years ago.

Well, he looked the same, but a thousand times hotter. And one problem Tyson had never had was a lack of 'hotness'.

He practically glowed with it, and she, fool that she was, had always been caught up in that heat. Jesus, she’d practically had goddamn tan lines simply from being around him.

“What are you doing here?” Bernadette demanded, scowling back at Emily - if her BFF couldn’t recognize Tyson then she sure as shit wasn’t going to point out who he was.

She’d intended on grabbing her laptop from the office then heading off with Tyson on a…

Bernadette wasn’t exactly sure what.

Dirty weekend had never been implied, not by words anyway. Not that it could be a dirty weekend considering the weekend was almost over. But from the way he’d been looking at her in the restaurant, it gave a girl hope but that was all.

It was more of a sampler, she was assuming.

A means for her to test the merchandise before she signed up for anything with Hedonist Central.

She could see why Tyson was one of, if not the, company’s best salesmen. He could probably sell ice to the Inuit, and they’d be giving him a tip too at the end in the form of their best seal skins or something like that.

Rolling her eyes at her own fancy, she pursed her lips at Emily’s sheepish expression.

“What’s going on?” Bernadette asked again when Emily didn't seem like she was going to reveal the reason for her being at the office on a Sunday evening.

“I had a backlog to catch up on.”

“Since when do you have a backlog?” It was a sign of how deeply she trusted Emily that she wasn’t suspicious over her friend’s presence at the office.

There’d be an explanation, one Bernadette probably wouldn’t like though.

Emily’s nose wrinkled and she breathed out a long sigh. “Since I got sick of holding Robert's hand as he worked on the proposal.”

Bernadette’s eyes widened - she’d been right. She hadn’t liked the explanation. “You mean to tell me he had three extra pairs of hands, and you’re still having to pull some overtime?”

Bernadette never liked it when Emily pulled heavy hours.

She expected them of herself because it was her company. No employee would ever work as hard as the boss - the math wouldn’t make sense. And though she paid Emily a King’s ransom, it still didn’t make up for her being here on a fucking Sunday evening.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Emily admitted. “I only got a call this afternoon. I’ve not been here long.”

Bernadette’s nostrils flared with outrage. “You do realize I’m going to find a way to fire him now, don’t you?”

Emily winced. “That’s why I didn’t want you getting involved. He's not that bad. Just made a major cock of himself at this time.”

“I know. But that’s exactly why it needs to happen. What the hell am I asking of him that’s so fucking hard for him to arrange?”

Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m three-quarters through the proposal as it stands, and it all seems pretty rudimentary to me.”

Tyson cleared his throat, reminding Bernadette he was there - only work would ever make her forget his presence.

She blinked at him. “What?” Wincing at her tone, because it was hard and totally un-Birdie-like, she watched his eyes flare wide in response. Then, they did the damnedest thing. The lids turned hooded. Heavy.

He looked at her like she was a decadent cream puff and he wanted to lick her up.

He liked that side of her?

The 'Bosszilla' as Emily called her when Bernadette was in full swing?

Gulping at the sight, she waited for him to speak; “This is why incentives work, Bernadette.”

She snorted. “You already sold me. Don’t overkill. The man’s job is on the line. That should be incentive enough.”

Tyson’s grin flashed, making her heart beat like mad. “True. But still, people work better when they’re in a positive environment. Fearing for your job… well, that’s not the best way to motivate someone.”

“Though he’s right, who the hell is this guy?”

Tyson grinned again. “Now I know the rumors were true.”

Emily blinked. “Excuse me.”

“You were gay.”

Bernadette’s mouth dropped open. “Are you seriously telling me you know she’s gay because she doesn’t remember you? Jesus, how big is your ego?”

He snorted, then chuckled - more at himself, than the situation she figured. “It’s actually pretty healthy. Not totally overblown.”

Emily frowned and stacked her hands on her hips. “What does my sexuality have to do with anything?”

“The inference is that you’d remember him if you were straight, Em,” Bernadette said with a huff of disgust. “It’s Tyson Andrews.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Bernadette retorted wryly.

“Hey Em. It’s great to see you,” Tyson told her as he strode toward her, then wrapped her up in a hug.

He’d not done that to her, and Bernadette was jealous as hell about that. He'd just shaken her hand. Not dragged her against his chest, hauled her into his arms. Not like she'd always dreamed of…

“Tyson, you son of a bitch!” Emily whacked him on the back even as she squeezed him in a genuine embrace. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Here and there,” was all he said with a wink.

“You always did have way too much confidence,” Emily told him with a snort as she looked him over. “And yeah, I’m gay, but I’m not blind. You’re still as magnificent as ever.”

Though he preened, it didn’t irritate Bernadette. If anything, it made her laugh.

“She compliments everyone. Don’t let her get to your head.”

Emily shot her a glare. “I have to, don’t I? What with you scaring the shit out of everyone on a regular basis.”

Tyson laughed. “You two always did balance each other out. I’m glad to see you’re working together.”

“As if we wouldn’t,” Emily retorted. “Thick as thieves.”

“You went to college together?”

“Yep. Roomed with one another too.”

“What did you major in?”

“Corporate law and administration. It came in handy for working with Miss Bossypants over there.”

Bernadette bit her lip, because Emily’s faith in her always had the power to sock her in the gut.

Emily’s degrees had been selected to complement Bernadette’s dreams of the future. Emily had known that Bernadette would make her mark in the world of graphics and had chosen an educational path that would help them both when it came to the future.

Emily had stock in the company, but when Bernadette had tried to split it 50-50 with her all those years ago, Emily had refused, saying she was happy with twenty-five percent, and that the other investors would have to battle over the remaining chunk.

Bernadette’s lips twitched at the memory even as she watched Emily and Tyson interact.

It was good for them all to be together again. Too good.

It felt right.

Fuck.

The ache that blossomed in her chest was enough to make her want to cry, and Bernadette hadn’t cried since her grandfather’s funeral.

Tears meant weakness, and in a company like hers, weakness was… well, it wasn’t allowed.

Simple. Complicated.

“What brings you back to Seattle?” Emily was asking, making Bernadette tune in.

“I moved back five years ago,” Tyson confessed.

“And you didn’t look us up?” Emily hit him again on the shoulder. “Jerk.”

The ache deepened.

He’d been here five years, and hadn’t tried to contact them?

Why not? They’d always been so close, dammit. What had changed that? It wasn't like he'd wanted to move away; his father was in the military and had been stationed elsewhere.

Tyson sighed. “I came back under a cloud. I guess I wanted to reinvent myself in a place that I've always considered home from home.”

“Sounds intriguing. Spill,” Bernadette retorted, curious and cool with it. Her voice was like the Arctic, because it had to be. If she didn’t keep it so cold, he’d know exactly how his admission hurt her.

She took a seat on the sofa in Em’s office.

Emily was like Cerberus. The gatekeeper. Her office was just as large as Bernadette’s, but entrance to Bernadette’s could only be gained through Emily’s.

Which was why they’d found her working, because Bernadette’s laptop was in her office.

Unlike Bernadette’s comfortable study, Emily’s was cold. White, minimalist. Just as Em preferred.

She had a white desk with simple clean lines, a white chair that near as dammit blended into the table. On the floor, there was a spark of color in the form of an emerald rug that covered three-quarters of the black tile. A white sofa and set of club chairs took up one corner, and a partition wall was sectioned off in glass blocks which was where they housed a small kitchen and separate bathroom area.

All in all, it was cold and clinical, but some of Bernadette’s early designs decorated the wall.

Back in the days when she’d loved art for art and hadn’t been a sellout, that is.

Wincing at the thought, Bernadette watched as Tyson took a seat beside her, and Emily propped herself on the coffee table opposite the sofa. Tyson’s thighs strained in his expensive suit as he seated himself, and she was hard-pressed not to notice the pull of the seams in his shoulders as his muscles made themselves known.

Jesus, he was hot.

“You know how rocky my relationship was with my father,” he said softly.

“Yeah. How could we forget?” came Em’s rueful retort.

“Well, he kind of died,” Tyson replied, rubbing a finger down his nose. “It was out of the blue. Totally unexpected. His last transfer was the one that moved me away from here, and I stayed in North Carolina ever since. But his death… it dragged up a lot of shit, and I wanted to come back to the one place that had felt like home, you know?”

“What kind of shit?” Bernadette asked softly.

Tyson let out an almost sad sigh. “He’d been having an affair with this woman for like fifteen years. It was why he’d transferred in the first place. She was a civilian. Had moved to Seattle for work, but when her mother got sick, went home to NC. Dad moved us all, so he could stay with her. He wasn't forced to relocate, damn him.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open, and Bernadette’s was equally as agape. They stared at each other, then turned to stare at him.

He let out another sigh. “I know,” he said grimly. “It’s like something from Oprah.”

Bernadette cleared her throat. “Kind of,” she admitted sheepishly, but reached forward to press her hand to his knee. The tension that came as he flexed his muscles didn’t escape her, but she didn’t think it was in rejection.

More like the touch was unexpected.

His hand came down to rest atop hers.

“Mom was devastated, of course. She threw herself into another marriage though; like that would pay my father back. I just wanted to come here. Get away from it all. So, I did.”

“Wow,” Emily murmured. “That’s intense.” She shot Bernadette a look. “Makes our lives look boring, huh?”

Tyson sniggered. “I doubt that. Look at this place. Jesus, you two. Please tell me you were voted ‘Most Likely to Succeed’ in your class?”

Emily snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“We proved them wrong though, huh?” Bernadette retorted, winking at Em.

“We fucking did.” Emily pursed her lips. “So, what are you guys doing here anyway?”

“That travel agency you sent me to?” Bernadette prompted. “Tyson works there. His boss obviously wants our contract for work though.”

She couldn’t help but add that and enjoyed Tyson’s wince. Laughing at the sight, she turned and saw Emily was scowling.

“But I didn’t send you there for business.”

“I know, babe. But they didn’t get that particular memo - more like they completely ignored it.”

Emily huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I told him, specifically, that I wanted you to look at their getaways for some RnR. What more of a fucking memo does the man need?”

Tyson grimaced. “Don’t be mad at Gill. Seriously, he just has dollar signs for eyes. And hey, you’re in admin. You should appreciate this…”

She scowled at him. Still mad. “Appreciate what?”

“I can take Bernadette away for a few days, totally RnR her, but put it on expenses.”

“What? Make your boss think you’re showing her what Hedonist Central can offer, and free for us?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

Bernadette rolled her eyes. “Since when were you both teaming up against me to make me have some time off? And since when did I need a handout?”

Tyson shrugged. “Since I saw you nearly explode at the mention of that Robert dude. You’re on the edge, Birdie.”

She grimaced at the nickname. “You do know I hate being called that, right?”

“Not by me,” he said softly, and damn him, he was fucking right.

Bernadette changed the subject. “I think it might be a good idea to do business with Hedonist Central anyway, Em. Maybe my Bosszilla act is why Robert can’t get his fucking act together? If I, as Tyson put it, ‘incentivize’ him, things might be different?”

Emily glowered at her.

“You do realize you’re talking business?”

Bernadette sighed. “Yes. I know. But it's not like it's not relevant, Em.”

“Relevant? When you’re supposed to be talking about vacations?” She shot Tyson a look then compounded it by pointing a finger at him. “You…” Point, point. “I’m leaving her in your hands. She’s to rest and relax, and actually do something that isn’t work for a while. Do you got me?”

Tyson grinned. “Capiche.”

Emily ignored his megawatt grin as only a gay woman could. “Do you got me too, Bernadette?”

Bernadette grumbled and staying true to the little saying they’d always had, mumbled, “Capiche.”

“Good. Now, I don’t know what you were doing at the office, and I’m not sure I want to know. But get out of here. I can control everything for the next couple of days.”

Bernadette bit her lip. “The shareholders won’t be happy.”

“No. Well, they never are, are they? That’s what shareholders do. But at least we can report a fabulous rate of return. I’m sure that will more than make up for my holding the meeting instead of you.”

“I’m sure that goes against the laws.”

“I’m a major shareholder, Bernadette,” Emily pointed out softly. “Plus, I’m not above lying, and telling the old bastards you’re at death’s door, and that if they want you to keep on making them ridiculously rich then you need to recuperate first. After all, you're no use to them if you're six feet under.”

Bernadette blinked, unsurprised by the fact her friend was willing to lie her ass off for her, but shocked at the urgency in Em’s tone.

She really believed Bernadette was making herself ill with all this work.

It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that she allowed herself to be shuffled out of the office.

After a hug from Em, of course.

A hug, and a whispered order to screw Tyson until neither of them knew where the other began and ended.

Though the notion filled her with nerves, she’d never been one to bow down to a challenge. And Em, damn her, had couched it as a dare, hadn’t she?

The bitch knew her too well.