Peyton

By Friday, I was exhausted. It had been another long week, with Russ asking a lot of questions and taking even more notes about dozens of spreadsheets. I’d answered all of his inquiries, knowing there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Luckily, I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told Simon Russ was smart and was catching onto to our business quickly. Turned out he was quite funny, too, which didn’t make the days quite so dreadful.

When he’d asked me what I was doing for dinner tonight, I’d politely told him I was busy with other plans. Before meeting Simon, I would’ve at least entertained the idea of a meal with the guy. We had things in common, he was handsome and easy to get along with, but I simply wasn’t into him. For some inexplicable reason, my attraction to Brexy muddled my ability to see anyone else. It was unfair to be this affected by a man who was off limits.

As far as Simon was concerned, I’d had glimpses of him during the week. Each time, my body practically buzzed as if it could sense his energy floating by. But he hadn’t bothered to stop by. Hadn’t engaged other than to come in to ask Russ for a few things from time to time.

It bothered me at first that he’d brought up my father the way he had. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the insinuation I’d gotten my job because of my dad’s status. Jeff had the nerve to say as much to my face when he’d first started to work here. But what hurt was the way Simon had reacted after discovering the truth. As if he would have chosen torture over apologizing for the way he’d asked about my dad’s influence. He wouldn’t even say he was sorry for finding out my father had passed away. What halfway decent person didn’t say, ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ as an automatic response to finding out someone had died?

Ready to call it a day, I looked up at a knock to see Emma at my office door. Did the woman have to look stunning ten hours into a Friday? But seeing as she’d been nothing but nice and helpful all week, I couldn’t justify an ounce of jealousy about Simon spending most of his time with her. Hadn’t he said he thought of her as a sister?

Not that I cared. Liar.

“Hi, Emma,” I greeted never having seen her down on our floors before.

“Hello. Um, any chance I could interest you in drinks tonight? I don’t know anyone in the city and thought maybe we could grab some.”

Her invitation was awkward at best, but it was sincere. “Sure. I need to go home first, though, to feed my dog.”

“How about eight o’clock? Maybe at my hotel? I’ll text you the address.”

Her hotel. Which meant it was Simon’s hotel, too. “Okay. Are you changing clothes?”

“God, yes. Jeans.”

“Great. See you there.”

Call it morbid curiosity, but I simply couldn’t say no.

***

I was late. But at least only by five minutes. I felt guilty about all of my extended nights and now leaving Cooper at home. But considering that on most Fridays I was in bed by now, he couldn’t have expected a whole lot more than sleeping anyhow. Still, I planned to take him to the dog park tomorrow to make up for it.

As I walked into the bar at the Four Seasons, I could see it was already filling up, but I spotted Emma straight away. With her jet-black hair down her back and killer-red lipstick, she perched on a stool at the end, talking with the bartender. Leave it to her to rock a pair of jeans as if she was modeling them later. Not that I was a slouch in my dark-wash skinny jeans paired with my gray sweater, but Emma was stunning.

“Hi,” I greeted.

“Hi, yourself. Love your jumper.”

I cocked my head to the side. “Jumper?”

“Sorry, your sweater.”

“Ah.” And who said English was the same everywhere? “Thanks. In Texas you have only a short window to wear them before it gets hot again. It’s been a cooler-than-usual March.”

“What’s your pleasure?” she queried, with a martini in front of her.

“I’ll take whiskey on the rocks with a splash of sours, please.”

“Simon is a whisky man, too.”

If I’d wondered if his name would come up tonight, the question was answered within the first minute. I simply concentrated on my hands, not knowing how to maneuver the proverbial land mine.

The bartender, who was quite handsome, came over to deliver my drink. He only had eyes for Emma. Couldn’t blame the guy. “Anything else, love?”

Huh, and he was Irish.

She gave him a flirty look. “Not for now, Sean. Thanks.”

“I take it you must come here often?”

She turned her full attention to me. “Only a couple times. I actually prefer corporate housing which we’re moving into soon.”

My eyes flicked to the younger guy. “He’s cute.”

She frowned. “Who?”

I laughed, thinking it funny she didn’t realize who I was talking about despite his obvious interest. “Sean. The bartender.”

“He is, but he’s not my type.”

I was curious and had to ask, “What is?” I imagined her type would be a guy in a suit like her boss.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

I half expected she was about to confide she was into girls. “Promise.”

“I prefer them tattooed, pierced, and for one night only.”

I would’ve been less shocked to find out she was a lesbian. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. A man in a suit. Turn off. Clean-cut Sean, nope, doesn’t do it for me. But put a man on a motorcycle, with tattoos and piercings, and I’m a goner.”

I was shocked. Then, looking around the bar, I grinned. “I don’t see anyone fitting that type at the Four Seasons.”

“Nope. It’s why I miss New York. There you can find a club with plenty of men fitting my description. Minus the motorcycle though as most don’t drive in the city.”

“This is quite the change, isn’t it?”

She grinned. “That’s putting it mildly. Although I do really enjoy traveling. Have you lived here your entire life?”

“Born and raised. Tell me about the most exciting place you’ve ever been.”

She went on to tell me about Australia while I sat in awe. I’d only dreamed of traveling the world while she’d actually been brave enough to do it.

“So how is the audit going so far?” she asked, talking about work for the first time. We were now on our second round of drinks.

“Okay. Russ is catching on quickly.”

“He seems into you.”

“He’s sweet, but I’m not interested.”

“I’m sure Simon would be relieved to know it.”

I sucked in a breath, trying to steady my heartbeat with her declaration. I decided to play dumb. “I don’t think he’d care either way.”

She leveled me with a look which conveyed she knew more than she’d let on.

“If he told you something, I may have to kill him,” I muttered, downing my second glass.

“In his defense, it was before he knew you worked at Maddox. He was looking forward to your second date.”

I sighed deeply with regret. “Well, we all know how that turned out.”

“Peyton. He really likes you.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Sarcasm dripped on each word. He’d been adamant any relationship outside of the working boundaries was impossible.

“He’d kill me if he knew I was talking about it, but he really does care.”

“He said that?” I wasn’t playing it cool at all. Instead, I wanted more information.

“No. But he wouldn’t. I’ve known him long enough, however, and this is different.”

It felt as though I was back in eighth grade finding out a boy might like me. It was disappointing I was so easily excited to discover a shred of hope. But since she was sharing, I had to ask. “Does he ever apologize?”

“No. Not to me, not to anyone. He has a hard time with it.”

“Why?”

“You should ask him, but please understand it’s nothing personal.”

It sure as hell felt personal. “I think perhaps you’re wrong about what you think you’re seeing regarding Simon’s feelings toward me. He isn’t used to having things disrupted. That’s all I am. Simply a momentary blip in the plan.”

She contemplated before responding. “What if I told you he’s been uncharacteristically distracted on this job? More than I’ve ever seen. And on the few occasions—and I do mean few—where I’ve known him to send flowers, he’s always had me do it as an afterthought or with me prompting. But with you, he asked what color he should send and insisted on ordering them himself.”

“That was before.”

“The flowers, yes, the distraction, no.”

“Maybe that’s all it is, then. A distraction.”

She pursed her lips. “He doesn’t do distractions. It’s more.”

I wanted to believe her, which annoyed me to no end. It felt as if I was on a roller coaster I couldn’t get off, ready for my next rush of adrenaline. “Why are you telling me this?”

For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe because I hate seeing him miserable. Maybe because I knew I liked you the moment you told Tom off.”

And now I liked her better for appreciating that I had. “I can’t imagine having to work with that guy all of the time.”

She didn’t bother to hide her cringe. “I won’t lie. I hate it. Then again, you have Jeff, who seems to be a twat, too.”

Didn’t need a translation for that. “He really is.”

We clinked our glasses together in girl solidarity. Then she glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “Right on time.”

“What is?” I turned my head to see Simon walking straight for us. He seemed as shocked to see me as I was to see him.

His gaze flicked from me to her before settling on me. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Why was one word from this man ratcheting up my nerves? Perhaps it was because, despite the long day and still wearing the same suit, he looked devastatingly handsome.

“Here, Simon, take my chair. I’m calling it a night. Thanks for agreeing to drinks with me, Peyton. I’ll see you in the office on Monday.”

Wait. What?

His lips twitched as his assistant vacated her seat and set down money on the bar for the bartender.

“Why do I feel like this was a setup?” I quipped as Simon took her chair.

He flashed me his phone, showing the text from her.

“Meet me in the bar. Something you need to see.”

“Probably because it was.”

Since it was now clear he’d walked in thinking he would be meeting Emma, I reached into my purse to grab my cash. “I didn’t realize. I’ll leave you to your evening.”

“Wait. Stay.” He settled his fingers over my wrist.

The touch of his skin on mine caused a tingle through my entire body.

He didn’t look unaffected himself.

“Okay. But isn’t Tom at this hotel, too? Won’t he wonder why we’re having drinks?”

“He’s out of town.”

“Oh.”

“Will you stay?”

He’d been such an asshole the last time we’d spoken, I was on the fence. But I was also curious for answers. Not to mention my body was holding a mutiny by refusing to budge from the stool.

“Okay. Maybe for a few minutes longer.”