That made one of us. “Thanks.”
“Anyhow. Hope your mom is doing okay. She was always a nice lady.”
Yes, she was. And if ever I believed in divine intervention, this was it. I wouldn’t sit here and get drunk like my father would have. I’d man up and be there for my family. Face my screwup with Kendall. “My mom is all right. Thanks for asking.” I threw a hundred down on the bar and motioned to the barkeep. “Next drink for Chuck is on me. Keep the rest. Thanks.”
I walked into a darkened rental house, having come from my sister’s place. I’d gone straight there from the bar, spending the rest of the afternoon with both my sister and my mom. It was important for me to be there for the both of them.
Ally had asked Kendall to come over, but she’d opted instead to be dropped off at the rental. I couldn’t blame her. Not only had I made it awkward for her to be around my family, but I also doubted she wanted to see me.
It was after nine o’clock, and I wondered if she was already in bed. My question was answered when I walked down the hall and saw the light on under her bedroom door.
Part of me wanted to take the chickenshit route and just go upstairs, but there was too much at stake to avoid talking to her tonight. Deep breaths. Don’t apologize too quickly or come off as guilty. Feel her out and see where her head is first. If she hates me, then talk to her and try to fix this before it goes to HR.
I held up my hand to knock when the door opened to reveal her in a messy bun and dressed in only her Ram’s jersey—apparently fresh from the shower.
“Hi,” she greeted tentatively.
I tried unsuccessfully not to breathe in her fresh scent. Nothing like a distraction when my entire career was held in the balance. Named partners did not have flings with their assistants. “Hi.”
We both stood there, staring at one another. I was trying to work out what I would say when she beat me to it.
“I’m sorry about earlier. In the storage room. I didn’t mean to take advantage. I wasn’t thinking, and then I really wasn’t thinking. And I apologize.”
“What?” What in the hell was she saying? Why the hell was she apologizing?
“It was your father’s funeral and you were feeling vulnerable and having a tough time. It was supposed to be a fake kiss, then it— Well, you were there to know the rest. I’ve beaten myself up over and over about the timing. I know you had serious regret on your face, and I caused you to leave which—”
She could not be serious. “Stop.” I couldn’t let her continue to feel one ounce of responsibility in this. So much for proceeding with caution. Her candor took me completely off guard. “This was not you. It’s on me. I’m the one who screwed up. If you plan to go to HR about me, I wouldn’t blame you, but I’d like for you to give me the courtesy of discussing it first.”
She was shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”
The words were bitter on my tongue. “I crossed a line. A big one. It’s inexcusable.” She was twenty-four. I was her boss. I’d insisted she come here this week. I was in a position of power, and I’d abused it. I was unprepared for her temper.
“Is this because I reported my last boss? Am I now that girl? I know the damn difference between getting an unwanted grope of my ass at a Christmas party and taking part in a consensual kiss.”
“No. Jesus. I didn’t mean to imply you were. I have no clue where your head is regarding what happened.” If she wanted to, she could threaten everything I’d ever worked for.
“You think I’m trying to use this to—what? Get you fired?”
My temple throbbed. “You very well could if you wanted to.”
She studied me. “I’m trying to figure out if something happened to you to make you this cynical in general, or if this is personal towards me.”
“It’s not personal, Kendall; it’s just—” I was cynical. I took a deep breath. “I need to know that come tomorrow morning we can be back to normal. Can we do that?” What I wanted to say was could I trust her? Or would this end up being the worst mistake of my life?
“We can be normal tomorrow. You have my word on it.”
Here was hoping I could trust her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Liam
My alarm went off way too early. Not even the shower could make me feel human with the hangover I was sporting. After speaking with Kendall last night, I’d gone up to the office and polished off my bottle of bourbon. It hadn’t been my wisest decision. Chalk it up to a day full of bad ones. Since I was normally cautious about how much I drank, I was a serious lightweight when it came to paying for any overindulgence. I slurped water from the tap, took some Advil, and dressed slowly. Then I had to pack.
By the time I went downstairs, I could tell Kendall had been busy. The trash had been taken out. All of the files were packed. Her suitcases were already placed by the front door. She was currently wiping down the counters and table.
“What can I do?” I asked, my voice sounding rough.
She barely made eye contact. “Nothing, except take a shower and pack. There’s coffee in the pot if you want it. If not, then I’ll throw it out.”
She was almost cold. Efficient, but cold. She was acting as if it was before we’d sat in this living room over wine and spilled our guts.
“I’ll drink the coffee. Is everything all right?” I decided to put a toe in the water to see if she was still upset with me over yesterday.
Her expression softened. “Yes. Fine.”
“Anything else we need to do with the house?”
“Nope. You gave the wood to your mom, and the flights are on time.”
When I went outside to load the truck, I expected Kendall would already be sitting inside it, but instead she was in the yard, attempting to make a snowman with the four inches we’d gotten. She wasn’t having any luck getting it to form.
“Here, I’ll show you.” I made a ball and rolled it along by the illumination of the porch light.
She smiled and did the same. None of the balls we made were very big, but we soon had three of them on top of one another. She was beaming with pride, taking out her camera phone to snap a picture with the flash. “My first snowman.”
“It’s kind of sad,” I remarked wishing we had a chance to do the whole carrot nose and face for it.
She held up a snowball, grinning at me. “Take it back.”
I shook my head. “Nope. It’s sad and without a face.”
She let the ball fly. It did no damage since it basically fell apart.
Unable to resist, I reached down and formed a good one, pelting her on the chest of her coat with it.
She smiled, picking up more snow, pressing it into a ball, and chucking it at me. This one managed to hit me smack in the face.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aiming there.” But she was in a fit of giggles.
I took her down to the soft snow, holding up a snowball above her face.
“You sure about that?”
She was grinning. “Yes. Please spare me.”
“Mm. I don’t think so.” I only took a chunk off, but plunked it on her nose, causing her to squeal.
“Shh, too loud.” It was early morning on a Friday, and there were plenty of neighbors.
One moment we were both breathing hard and laughing, the next, my lips were on hers. I hadn’t meant it to happen, yet the kiss seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
Then her arms wound around my neck. Her tongue invaded my mouth, dueling with mine. Damn. This time we couldn’t excuse our behavior on a fake girlfriend act or my vulnerability over my father’s funeral. I could feel her shifting, almost as though she was trying to put her legs around me.
I wanted it, too. More than anything. But the puffy jacket was like a chastity coat, preventing either one of us from making a further mistake. Or making us miss our flight. I pulled away reluctantly, getting to my feet and helping her up beside me.
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
/>
She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Her apology once again took me off guard. She was so free with it.
Reaching out, I cupped her chin. “I’m sorry, too. I’ll get the bags loaded if you want to start the truck.”
She was probably freezing from having lain in the snow.
We drove in silence, only stopping for a coffee place when my stomach demanded I put some food in it. I settled for a latte and croissant while she passed.
Finally, unable to stand it anymore, I had to bring up the kiss. “Are you upset?”
She glanced over. “No, why would I be?”
“Because we crossed a line. Again.”
“We already both admitted it was a mistake. I’m not telling anyone. But I’d rather not talk about it, either.”
Okay. God, I wanted to believe her. I truly did. Deciding a change in subject was in order, I asked the question: “Did you upgrade your flights to first class?”
“No need. I’m good with coach.”
“When we get there, we’ll ask the agent.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What if I need you to work and be in first class with me?”
She sighed. “Then, by all means, upgrade me.”
There were no upgrades available. Despite the fact I’d used work as an excuse to try to get her into first class, the truth was I didn’t have anything for her to do during the flight.
As with our outgoing trip, we had a brief layover in Chicago, but we barely had time before boarding another plane. Once we landed in LAX, I waited for her to come down the sky ramp.
“Do you need a ride home?” Since we both lived in South Bay, I figured I could give her a lift.
Although she seemed surprised by my offer, she simply replied with, “No, thanks.”
“I’m in Manhattan Beach, so Torrance isn’t far from me.”
“It’s okay, but thanks. Have a good weekend, Mr. Davenport. I’ll see you Monday in the office.”
I was being dismissed. She sped up and went into the ladies’ room. I briefly spotted her at baggage claim, but she didn’t so much as glance my direction. Instead, she took her suitcases up the escalator to where she was probably catching an Uber home.
Stepping into my empty house after the forty-minute drive in traffic, I waited for the relief over being home to hit me. I’d bought this place as my first major purchase. Three point five million. A view of the beach from the top floor, three bedrooms, three baths. Ultra modern. Just like the Tesla I used to commute to the office every day. Yet neither the vehicle nor the house was giving me the pleasure they normally did upon returning home to them.
I took a hot shower, a short nap, and then ordered in takeout Chinese food while looking at the clock. It was eight in the evening. I imagined Kendall was getting ready for work about now. I should probably put in a couple billable hours to make up for losing so many yesterday, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat there sipping water, trying to talk myself out of what I was about to do.
But considering I was already up and getting dressed, it was clear I wouldn’t be talked out of this. I texted Chance Maxwell, an occasional client, to ask to be put on the list for tonight. Chance was the owner of the Cheetah Club and others like it. I was sure not all of them were above board, especially in the foreign locations, but I didn’t ask, and he certainly didn’t tell me.
His text back came almost immediately. “Consider it done, my friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kendall
After I arrived home from the airport and took a much-needed nap, I felt like a brand-new person. I hadn’t slept well last night, thinking way too much about Liam and our kiss. Then this morning’s snow-time activity hadn’t exactly inspired sleep on the plane, either. Instead, I’d been thinking about my newfound attraction to my boss. What was most disconcerting was the fact it was more than a physical thing. I was finding myself emotionally invested, too. So when he’d suggested I might go to HR to report him, I felt both a simmering anger and a healthy dose of hurt.
Then again, he was a man who seemed to have a single focus. To become a named partner. Any possible threat toward that aspiration would cause him to panic. This was exactly what he’d done. Ugh. I needed to stop obsessing and get my butt in the shower so I could get to work.
I only wished my roommate, Chloe, was around to go into the club tonight, too. Being without her made it lonely. But she deserved a weekend at home with her family. At least I’d be so busy tonight, it would go by quickly. It always did.
Dressing carefully, I chose my favorite pair of Daisy Duke denim shorts, fishnet nylons and a crop top. Although I’d never wear these clothes out in my normal daily life, they definitely fit in with the club. I capped the look off with a smoky eye and red lip.
The club was already filling up when I took my place behind the bar. Jose, the other bartender, whistled. “Damn, girl, you’re fire tonight.”
I smiled. Jose might be gay, but I’d take any male attention I could get right now. My self-esteem evidently needed it. “Thanks, Jose. Are we fully stocked?”
“Yep. I don’t think we’re out of anything.”
That was good news. There was nothing more frustrating than being down someone’s favorite liquor. Since this was a busy club, top shelf went quickly. I couldn’t see paying five hundred dollars for a bottle of Patron and some juices to go with it, but people did it every night using our bottle service.
An hour later I was into my rhythm. The club was set up with five bars. The one upstairs catered to the VIPs with the private rooms while the four down here were on all the corners of the large space. We were two bartenders to a bar, filling everything from the individual orders of people who came up to the bar to the group orders from waitresses serving the majority of patrons who didn’t want to get up out of their seats.
As far as dance clubs went, this one was upscale. Not that I had a lot of knowledge of nightclubs, but the people I worked with definitely did, and everyone said this one was classy.
“Your girl not here tonight?” Jose asked over the loud music.
“Nope. Chloe is up in Canada visiting her family this weekend.”
“She missed you last weekend. Hey, suit at the end of the bar is staring at you.”
I turned only to have my breath catch.
Liam.
What the hell was he doing here? And why did he have to look so handsome in a white button-down shirt with a charcoal gray sport jacket? He was without a tie, his shirt unbuttoned enough to show the barest hint of skin at his neck.
“I, um, I got him.”
I walked over to where Liam had positioned himself at the last stool. Unlike the other men waiting on drinks, who were staring up at the stages where beautiful women in very little clothing danced to the music, his gaze was completely transfixed on me.
“What are you doing here?” I had to shout over the loud music.
“I wanted to see what this place was about.”
Oh. I scanned the place, trying to guess what he was thinking. Currently, it was nuts. And totally not his scene. At least I wouldn’t think so. “Do you want something to drink?”
He hesitated. “Yeah. I’ll do a beer.”
“What kind?”
“Amber lager or something.”
I poured our amber on draft and handed it to him. “It’s ten dollars,” I said, rattling off the price as I normally would.
He handed me a twenty. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.” His intense eyes were still on mine, but I had a full bar of customers. I couldn’t linger.
I worked the bar the next half an hour, but every time I glanced at the end of the bar, Liam was still there. Still watching me.
Noticing he was getting low on his beer, I used it as an excuse to go back down there. “You want another?”
“No. But when do you get a break?”
My heart beat harder. “Why?”
“Because I want to talk to
you.”
“I don’t get breaks where I can talk to customers.” I’d have to go to the private employee area, and there was no way I could take him back there. “I’m off at two thirty. We could talk then?”
He glanced at his watch, frowning and probably realizing that was four hours away.
“I’ve gotta get back. Sorry.”
I stepped away to help two college guys ordering Flaming Doctor Peppers, and when I turned back, Liam was gone. I fought my disappointment. What did I expect? Him to sit there and watch me all night?
Jose sidled up next to me. “The suit is talking to the floor manager.”
My gaze tracked to where my boss was, in fact, talking to my boss before heading upstairs to the VIP rooms.
“You two a thing?” Jose asked.
“Nope.” The p popped on the response as if it would hurt less.
“Then, why do you look like someone kicked your puppy, beautiful?”
I didn’t bother to try to mask my disappointment with a smile, knowing all too well some of the upstairs activities included strippers for paying guests. “Because I’m a stupid girl.” I took a deep breath. “Who needs to get back to work.”
I shook martinis, I poured whiskey, I fixed shots. I was trying to get back into my groove, so when the floor manager came behind the bar to tap me on the shoulder five minutes later, I startled.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve got someone in room four upstairs who wants ten minutes with you. He said his name is Liam.”
I opened my mouth, but the floor manager interrupted.
“It’s not to strip. He said he just wants to talk? The owner verified him.”
I sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by the lengths he’d gone to. “But what about the bar?”
“I’ll cover. If you don’t feel comfortable, then you don’t have to go—that’s straight from the owner, Mr. Maxwell himself. Remember, there are cameras, and you only need to give the peace sign to signal someone to come in if you’re in trouble.”
Miss Understanding (The Miss Series Book 1) Page 14