Boss Next Door

by Beverly Evans

Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. “Are you serious? That’s all you have to say to me?”

  “And what is it you want me to say? Do you expect me to throw myself at your feet and beg your forgiveness?” I grumble. “For what? What do I have to beg your forgiveness for? I told you I thought I saw an old friend. If you can’t accept that, then that’s on you. Not me. Don’t put your fucking issues on me.”

  “You arrogant son of a bitch,” she spits. “How dare you.”

  And because his timing is impeccable, Jake arrives at the table at that exact moment. As if sensing the tension in the air between us, he stands there tentatively for a moment. Megan and I sit there staring at each other in silence for a long moment, neither of us giving an inch, the feeling of anger ratcheting up ever higher.

  Jake clears this throat. “May I show you to your table?”

  I finally break eye contact with her and look over to Jake. “Thank you, Jake.” I shake my head. “But I don’t believe that will be necessary. I think we’re done here.”

  Megan makes a choking sound as I get to my feet and dig some cash out of my pocket then toss it onto the table. I clap Jake on the shoulder and give him a grim smile.

  “Get her whatever she’d like,” I instruct him.

  “A – absolutely, sir.”

  I turn to Megan. “I apologize for having wasted your time,” I tell her. “You should try the veal piccata as long as you’re here, though. It’s to die for.”

  Without another word, I turn and walk out of the restaurant, hooking a quick left and stride down the street in the direction Chloe’s doppelganger was headed when I caught sight of her. My brain is telling me that it can’t possibly be her. What would be the odds of her not only being in Vegas but being in the same off-Strip part of Vegas I’m in? Not very good, right?

  I think my odds of holding a winning lottery ticket and being struck by lightning while I’m being eaten by a shark are better by comparison. And yet, I can’t seem to snuff out that flicker of hope that against all odds, I’m somehow in the exact same place on this planet at the exact same time as Chloe Dixon. It’d be like fate intervening or something.

  I peer at the shops that line the street as I walk, trying to figure out where four women who looked to be dressed up and out for a good time might go. I pass a couple of clothing stores and a sports bar that’s loud and raucous. I peer through the front window but don’t see the group of women among the throng of rowdy people who are all watching a UFC fight on the big screen.

  A little further on, I find myself standing before an Irish pub called Cork’s. Figuring it’s the best option, I step inside and look around. The place is dimly lit and done in dark wood paneling and subdued colors. A large Irish flag hangs on the back wall and snugs line two of the walls inside the place. A long polished oak bar lines a third wall with a massive mirror on the wall behind it. Having been to Ireland a number of times, I’d have to say they recreated a traditional Irish pub perfectly.

  The place is only half full, and they’re not at the tables, so I scan the snugs. One of the women I saw on the street with Chloe’s doppelganger steps into the doorway of one of the snugs, grinning like mad as she signals for one of the waitresses. The waitress hustles over and stands just inside the doorway, talking animatedly with the occupants.

  As I stand there watching for a moment, I hear a ring of laughter which is unmistakable to me. I’d know it anywhere. A small smile touches my lips as I cross the pub. I wait just outside until the waitress leaves and then step into the doorway, my eyes immediately finding her. And when I see her, my heart damn near stops in my chest.

  From her raven black hair to those blue eyes that look like chips of ice, there is no doubt in my mind and no chance of mistaken identity. Sitting at the far end of the small table is none other than Chloe Dixon.

  She’s so wrapped up in conversation with her friend; she doesn’t see me standing there at first. It’s not until the conversation stops and all eyes turn to me that she looks up. I see her eyes grow wider than dinner plates and a deep flush creep into her cheeks.

  “Hiya Chloe,” I greet sheepishly.

  Her friends turn and look at her, their eyes as wide as hers before turning back to me. The woman sitting next to her, a shapely woman with auburn hair and green eyes, looks me up and down appraisingly, a smile curling her lips upward.

  “Who ordered the stripper?” she chuckles.

  Chloe slaps her on the arm but can’t stop the laughter that bursts from her throat. But when she turns her eyes back to me, her laughter fades, and she clears her throat.

  “Braxton,” she stammers. “W – what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been following you around the last couple of years,” I respond with a grin. “Decided it was time to pop in and say hi.”

  Her mouth falls open. “You what? You’re not serious.”

  “Of course I’m not serious,” I deadpan. “It’s just dumb luck. I was having a drink and saw you walk by. It’s been a while, so I wanted to say hello.”

  Her friends exchange glances, and I can’t help but see the knowing look in their eyes. They all look at Chloe again and can’t quite control their giggling. They’re like a pack of teenage girls. Chloe looks down but can’t hide the color deepening in her cheeks.

  “Braxton Voight,” I introduce myself even though I have a feeling they already know who I am. “Chloe and I are old friends.”

  She rolls her eyes as she gets to her feet, and I take her in from head to toe for the first time in what feels like forever. And as I do, that familiar hunger I have for her churns my insides once more, every bit as hard today as it did back then.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says to her friends.

  She grabs my wrist as she pushes her way past me and out of the snug, taking me with her. I chuckle as Chloe pulls me across the pub and out onto the sidewalk, rounding on me with an inscrutable expression on her face.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.

  “It’s good to see you again, too,” I laugh.

  Her cheeks flush, and she looks down at the ground for a moment before raising her eyes to me again. She’s trying to fight it, but there’s a smile pulling the corners of her mouth upward and a bright light shining behind her eyes.

  “It’s good to see you too, Braxton,” she chirps. “Now, what in the hell are you doing here? How in the hell did you find me?”

  “Like I said, just dumb luck,” I insist. “Or perhaps just serendipity.”

  She laughs softly. “Let’s not romanticize this too much. It’s a chance meeting –”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s what serendipity means.”

  “Oh shut up,” she laughs. “Nobody likes a smartass.”

  I take a step closer to her, standing within a couple of feet. Our eyes are locked onto each other, and a heavy weight of anticipation saturates the air between us. Chloe clears her throat and takes half a step back, her cheeks flushing.

  “I’m pretty sure some people do,” I say.

  I watch her full lips part, the pink tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth. She’s trembling slightly, as if she’s nervous. She bites her bottom lip, and that veiled, guarded look in her eyes I know so well from our days out by the river returns.

  “But I mean, what are you doing in Vegas?” she asks again.

  I tilt my head and frown. “I live here, remember?”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, we talked about it on that night that we, uh…” I trail off, not sure how to put it into words. Silence descends over us, our memories settling in like a fog.

  “Listen, it was great seeing you again,” she stammers. “But I’m out here celebrating my girlfriend’s birthday –”

  I hold my hand up. “I get it. And I don’t want to get in your way,” I cut her off. “I want to see you, though.”

  “You’re seeing me now,” she quips.

  “Wasn’t it you who just s
aid nobody likes a smartass?”

  She laughs again and shakes her head. I can see that she’s torn, though – part of her wants to go back inside, and the other wants to stay here with me. I want to think what I see in her eyes are all of those old feelings blossoming inside of her again. It’s possible I’m only seeing what I want to see, but hey, nothing wrong with relying on the power of positive thinking, right?

  “Come on,” I press. “Have dinner with me.”

  “Braxton, I’d love to, but I can’t,” she tells me. “I’m only in town for a couple more days.”

  “That’s plenty of time,” I point out. “I mean, you have to eat, right?”

  She can’t hide her smile but says nothing for a long moment as I watch her weighing out the pros and cons.

  “It’s one meal. For old time’s sake,” I go on. “What can it hurt?”

  A slow smile slips across her face as she looks up at me again, a gleam in her eye. “Fine. One meal,” she relents. “For old time’s sake.”

  “Excellent.” I smile wide. “Tomorrow at seven. Where should I pick you up?”

  “I’m staying at the Cosmopolitan,” she tells me. “Room 4203.”

  “Nice place,” I remark as I hand her my phone. “Just put your number in. I’ll call you when I’m in the lobby.”

  She takes my phone and adds her number then gives it back to me. We stand there for a moment, our gazes locked, and the weight of our history pressing down on us. She finally looks away, breaking that moment between us.

  “I – I should probably get back,” she stutters. “My friends are waiting.”

  “Yeah, um, sure,” I nod, holding her gaze again. “It really is good to see you again, Chloe.”

  “I – it’s good to see you again too,” she sputters. “It’s shocking as hell but good to see you.”

  Reaching out, I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She gives me a nod and turns. I watch her walk back into the pub, my eyes unconsciously drifting down to her shapely ass, admiring the way her slacks cling to it as she moves. I can’t help it. My pull to her is as strong today as it was all those years ago.

  With a smile on my face, I walk back to my car, feeling an extra spring in my step.

  Chapter Five

  Chloe

  I fight the urge to turn around and look at Braxton again as I walk back into the pub, feeling like I’ve been kicked in the gut. My heart is hammering, and my stomach is churning. As I slide back into the snug, my head still spinning with disbelief. It’s like seeing a ghost that’s risen from the grave.

  “So is that the Braxton Voight?”

  Amber is giving me a wolfish grin. Stacy and Melody are listening, though they’re less interested. Amber and I have been friends for a long time, but I don’t know the other two very well – they’re Amber’s friends. Amber knows all my secrets, and she’s had to listen to me talk about Braxton for years now.

  “Yes, it’s the Braxton Voight,” I confirm. “But, let’s not talk about him. This is your birthday, and we should be focusing on –”

  “That’s right, it’s my birthday, and we should be talking about whatever I want to talk about,” she chirps. “And right now, I want to talk about Braxton Voight.”

  Stacy and Melody, clearly uninterested in the conversation, turn to each other and start talking amongst themselves. Which is fine. I don’t necessarily want to open up and share my life with everybody and their uncle. I barely know these two women.

  “That’s a boring topic,” I laugh. “An old, boring topic –”

  She laughs. “Hey, for as many years as I’ve had to listen to you go on about this man, I deserve some answers to questions I have, now that he’s suddenly reappeared in your life.”

  “He didn’t reappear in my life,” I reply. “We just happened to run into each other. Total coincidence.”

  “Running into each other out of the blue like that is what some people might call reappearing in your life.” She grins.

  I shake my head but can’t stop the grin from touching my lips. “What is it with everybody being so damn literal today?”

  Amber takes a drink and sets her glass back down, never taking her eyes off me the entire time. I roll my eyes at her and laugh.

  “What?” I demand.

  “You’re glowing.”

  “You are so full of crap,” I screech, unable to stop laughing.

  She gives me a slight shrug. “There’s a little sparkle in your eyes that wasn’t there before Mr. Braxton Voight stepped in here.”

  “There is not.”

  I pick up my glass and take a long drink to cover the smile on my face. Seeing Braxton again after so long was shocking – to say the least. He’s every bit as beautiful now as he was the last time I saw him. But it’s the fact that he still has the power to make my pulse race and my head spin that I find most disconcerting.

  “I have to say; he’s even more gorgeous in person than he is in pictures, girl,” Amber notes.

  “Yeah, he’s okay,” I shrug, not wanting to add fuel to that particular fire.

  “Please, he’s far better than just okay,” she says. “So when are you banging him?”

  I laugh and slap her on the arm and glance over at Stacy and Melody. If they’d heard what she said, they were giving no indication of it.

  “Oh my God, shut up,” I laugh. “You are terrible.”

  “I’m sorry, let me put it in more genteel terms for you,” she giggles. “When will you be seeing that nice young man again?”

  “We’re having dinner tomorrow night,” I say softly.

  Amber claps her hands and squeals in excitement. “Oh, somebody’s finally gonna get some.”

  My face feels like it’s on fire, and I’m sure it’s an unnatural shade of red. I put my hands over my face, laughing so hard my entire body is shaking, and I’m having trouble catching my breath. Amber leans forward and grabs hold of my hands, laughing along with me.

  “It’s not like that,” I finally manage to gasp.

  “No? Then what’s it like?” she teases. “Enlighten me.”

  “We’re just friends. Kind of. And we haven’t seen each other in a couple of years,” I explain. “We’re just catching up. That’s all.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “Of course he does,” I say.

  “You sure, girl? I saw the way he was looking at you.”

  “Oh my God, you’re being ridiculous,” I tell her. “You’re just imagining things.”

  She takes a drink and shrugs. “You sure about that?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Mmmm hmmmmm.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” she teases. “I’m just saying; there’s no shame in letting him break that seal. It’s not like you’re saving it for marriage or anything.”

  “Moving on,” I laugh and take a long drink.

  Thankfully, Stacy and Melody finally join in and change the subject, and we spend the next couple of hours drinking and having a good time, all conversation about Braxton left behind. Eventually, the evening wound down, and it was time to call it a night. Stacy and Melody had come together, so they said their goodbyes and headed off for their car, leaving Amber and I standing outside the pub together as I waited for my Uber to come pick me up.

  Amber looks over at me with a smile but a serious gleam in her eye. “You know it’s okay to like him, don’t you?”

  I give her a rueful smile. “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s only as complicated as you make it.”

  I shrug. “There’s no point to it anyway,” I tell her. “I have to go back to London in a couple of days anyway.”

  “Nothing wrong with enjoying a couple of days with him.”

  I purse my lips and look away. “It’s not like that. I can’t.”

  She nods as if she expected nothing less. “I’m not saying you should do anything you don’t want to do. But I k
now what he meant to you,” she says. “And maybe this is a good time to work on being more open with your feelings.”

  “Sometimes I hate the fact that I tell you everything.”

  She shrugs and smiles. “The perils of having a best friend, I fear,” she winks, and then her expression grows serious. “Listen, I can tell you like him – have liked him for a long time. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t close the door entirely. Nothing has to happen tomorrow or even a month from now. But leave that door open a crack.”

  I laugh softly. “Leave it open a crack, huh?”

  She nods. “Yeah. You never know what might happen a month or two down the road.”

  My Uber pulls to a stop at the curb. I climb in and give her a wave as I take off, thinking about everything we talked about. Thinking about what she said and dwelling on the twisting and churning in my stomach the moment I saw Braxton in the pub.

  My thoughts then turn to my father, and the fact that I’m stuck overseas, far away from where I want to be. I started seeing a therapist shortly after my father exiled me to the London office. He saw it as a great opportunity for me, of course. He called it a stepping stone to eventually taking over the European branch of operations as he groomed me to take over the entire company one day. And maybe it would have been a great opportunity, had I been passionate – or even mildly interested – in the financial industry. Trading stocks, building portfolios, and financial planning holds about as much interest for me as watching mold grow.

  It’s not that I don’t appreciate the opportunities my father has given me. I won’t deny that he’s done a lot for me in terms of setting me up for the future. My material needs will be met ten times over. But he’s done nothing to set me up to have my other needs met – my emotional and spiritual needs.

  I know he was only doing what he thought was best for me in preparing me for life. But the thing that burns my ass is that he never asked me what I wanted out of my life. He never considered what I might want to do or what fired me up. He’s the one who set my path and demanded that I walk it without any input from me at all.

  That was why I started seeing my therapist in the first place – I’d hoped to learn how to better stand up to my father. I’ve never had a problem standing up for myself with other people. I’m not the kind of woman who backs down from a challenge or lets people walk all over me.