Running the Numbers

by Roxanne Smith

  It wasn’t a bad tradition. When Sadie was chief accountant next year, she’d keep it going. An homage to Duncan.

  “No,” Amanda said, “I’m flying to Boise to see family.”

  Sadie’s shoulders fell. Geez. Give people a four-day weekend, and they disappeared like doughnuts in the breakroom. Kennedy, Wes, and Nina were all leaving to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with relatives. “Maybe his son can come visit him.”

  Amanda shook her head. “Seth is spending the holiday in London. Blake called to invite him but was too late. It was sort of crushing to watch Blake’s face. Of course, directly after I had to inform him of my plans.”

  “Oh, wow. Poor guy.” Sadie didn’t think it was right for anyone to spend the holidays alone. She should know, having spent most of her adult life on her own. “I think I’ll go mingle, if you don’t mind.”

  Amanda glanced at her watch. “I’m leaving, actually. Mother’s plane takes off in two hours. I’d like to go over what I’ve packed a final time.”

  “You’re not staying for the party? Why’d you bother to come?”

  Amanda gestured toward her dish. “It’s my obligation to bring something. The stuffing is cornbread, with apples and sausage. I hope everyone likes it.”

  Seriously? Sometimes, being friends with Amanda wasn’t all that great for Sadie’s self-esteem. She glanced at the bowl of mostly broken potato chips and tried not to cringe. “I’m sure everyone will love it. I’ll make sure they know you made it.”

  A flush of pleasure blossomed on Amanda’s cheeks, and she smiled as she collected her purse from a nearby chair. “Thank you, Sadie. You’re a very good friend.”

  Sadie watched Amanda disappear into the lobby and chewed the inside of her cheek. Let’s see if you still think that after this weekend.

  Besides, what kind of friend would she be if she let Blake spend the holiday alone? A bad one, if Amanda suspected Sadie of moving in on her territory. Or a great one, if Blake appreciated having company on the holidays.

  Sadie found Blake talking with Catalina.

  Catalina was pretty amazing, as far as humans in general went. She was a consummate professional at all times and carried herself with an import and grace Sadie envied. She’d taken the Castley account in stride and thanked Sadie for not begrudging her the opportunity to prove herself.

  Sadie wedged herself in between the two of them. “Say, Blake, got a sec? Duncan’s fidgeting with his tie, which means he’s getting hungry. I think we’re only waiting on Reba to show up with the glazed ham he ordered from Smith’s, but he won’t wait much longer.”

  Blake smiled politely at Catalina, who smoothly moved on to the next cluster of chatting coworkers. He sipped his cider. “How have you been, Sadie?”

  “Oh, fine. You know. Making new friends and stuff.”

  “So I noticed. Wednesday nights are off limits because it’s best friend night.”

  “Don’t begrudge me my visitation rights.”

  “I don’t unless it’s brownie day. I hate it when you get brownie day. There are never any leftover.”

  Sadie grinned. Ah, the kicker—she really liked Blake. He made her smile. “Listen, I heard your holiday plans sort of fell through. Amanda just bailed to reorganize her color-coded luggage”—or so Sadie imagined—“and she told me Seth couldn’t make it.”

  Blake shrugged, but the thin line of his mouth gave away his displeasure. “I’m low on the totem pole. Unless I ask months and months in advance, Seth defaults to spending holidays with Jack and Quinn. By the time I thought to ask, he was already telling me Madeline plans to cook for all of them. That’s Jack’s mother. She’s Irish, but since she’s married to Quinn’s dad, who’s obviously American, she gets stuck celebrating all our holidays. It’ll be her first time cooking, though. I mean, the whole Thanksgiving setup. I ramble when I’m upset. Sorry.”

  Sadie didn’t mind his chatter but frowned anyway. “Your family background is like something out of a Georgette Heyer novel. Cousins marrying cousins. It’s weird, Blake.”

  A smile threatened in the curve of his lips. He scratched his temple. “As convoluted as it seems, it’s all above-board. Douglas and Madeline were dating before Jack and Quinn got it together.”

  She shook her head. “Still weird.”

  “Yeah.” Blake almost laughed. “I can’t wait to see Amanda’s face when I attempt to explain it.”

  Something occurred to Sadie. “Is there a reason Amanda would leave without saying good-bye to you?” She hooked a thumb toward the lobby. “She was here and left without a word. Is that normal?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, we spoke yesterday. She told me she had to drop off stuffing, and I’d see her Monday. Not much more to say.” He looked away.

  Sadie nodded and patted Blake’s shoulder. “Well, it’s okay. I’ve decided you’re going to spend Thanksgiving with me.”

  He started to protest.

  She held up her hands to stop him. “I don’t have family here, and all my friends leave town anytime we get this many free days. I don’t do anything major—I definitely don’t cook like Amanda. She goes all out for a normal dinner. I’d hate to imagine the spread she’d work up for a holiday. The pile of dishes a meal like that would produce is enough to convince me to keep it simple. Canned cranberry sauce, a turkey sandwich, and some pie from the reduced-price section of the deli. Sparkling wine if I’m in the mood. Oh, but also, there’s this silent auction at the Elk’s Club on Friday. You can be my plus one. Unless, of course, you’ve got plans.”

  He smiled, and Sadie’s stomach did that thing again. He’d shaved his face to perfect smoothness that made her itch to run her finger along the square line of his jaw. “You’re perfectly aware that I don’t. So, sure. Why not. Better than moping in my cabin for four days.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I bet it’ll smell better, too.”

  He was on the verge of responding when Duncan called him from across the parlor. Reba had finally arrived, and Duncan wanted to give Blake the honor of slicing.

  Sadie grinned after him. A date for Thanksgiving, and she didn’t even have to cook. Her thoughts turned to the pile of laundry on her sofa. Was Blake worth folding laundry for? She hated laundry, nearly as much as she hated putting copious amounts of effort into preparing food when there were so many shortcuts.

  A second later, she turned toward the food table and caught Kennedy’s glare from across the room.

  * * * *

  Sadie’s apartment was a rundown unit, part of a community of duplexes. Blake supposed the location made up for what it lacked in fresh paint and even sidewalks, as Flat Creek ran directly behind the complex.

  Then he saw the interior. A huge stone fireplace faced the living room front and center, demanding attention the way a big-screen television would. The inside had a cabin-like feel, with warm tones and wood paneling. Sadie had a penchant for fluffy, overstuffed furniture. Two recliners and a light blue sofa crowded around the fireplace, above which Sadie had mounted a small television. Easy to see what her priorities were.

  A fire blazed, washing the room, which opened seamlessly into a small kitchen, in the dancing light of the flames. Two rugs, one crisscrossing over the other, were by the door. Sadie’s boots were kicked off to one side. Blankets of all sizes, shapes, colors, and materials were either tossed over the arms of the sofas and chairs or folded and stacked nearby on the floor. This was a place he could put his feet up or forget to use a coaster without feeling like he’d committed a cardinal sin. Cozy and warm, Blake was filled with a sudden sense of comfort he’d never once felt walking into Amanda’s perfect condo.

  Overall, he appreciated the classy elegance of Amanda’s home, but he also struggled with making certain he didn’t use the incorrect hand towel or forget to remove his shoes. Sadie’s house seemed the exact opposite.

  Sadie busied herself in the kitchen. She turned and smiled when he stepped inside. “Come on in
. I could use your help.” She pointed to a bottle and two mismatched wineglasses, one abnormally large, sitting on a butcher block table on the far side of the tiny round dining table with only two chairs—which, unsurprisingly, didn’t match. “Fill ’em up.”

  The kitchen looked like a thrift store display gone wrong. No matching dishes, no design theme, no coordination to speak of. Three hand towels were squeezed together over the oven handle, none the same color. Oven mitts mounted over the stove clashed horribly.

  Sadie wasn’t much better. She wore plaid pajama pants with holey socks and a tank top. Fresh-faced, same as the day they’d met at the airport. Somehow, the lack of eyeliner made her muted silvery eyes stand out more than ever, like little moons fixed to her face, utterly compelling.

  Blake inhaled deeply. “You’re the living, breathing opposite of Amanda Avery.”

  Sadie tossed her head to the side and grinned. “My house dresses like she used to.” Her pearly gaze swept from the open collar of his button-up to the polished loafers on his feet. “I should’ve warned you I don’t dress up on holidays. I figure, I dress up more than I dress down, with work. Might as well make the most of a freebie day to ditch the get-up.”

  “My fault for not asking.” He shrugged. “It’s habit to dress for an occasion. The last several years, out of some sense of duty, Quinn and Jack made sure they were in L.A. for most holidays. They always tried to say they did it for Seth, because he wanted to see his old friends, but I think they felt sorry for me and wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone. They must be really happy to finally be able to stay in London instead of traveling half the globe on my account.” He untucked his shirt and held out his arms for inspection. “Better?”

  Sadie nodded resolutely. “Loads. We’re practically identical now.”

  Blake laughed and opened the bottle of low-alcohol sparkling grape juice. That was probably for the best.

  Though Amanda had the whole blond-haired, green-eyed Quinn thing going on, it was difficult for him to ignore his inclination to find Sadie attractive and alluring. Amanda’s grace was often rigid, and Sadie’s loose, languid way of moving and speaking put him at ease.

  He rolled his shoulders, unsure of when he’d become so tense, and set the modestly filled wineglasses on the table.

  Sadie glanced over, cocked an eyebrow, and frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “I was going to set the table.”

  “Remember that time you said I was Amanda’s living, breathing opposite? Yeah, we’re eating on the sofa. Don’t you know there’s a game today?” She checked her watch and picked up speed, haphazardly dropping fat slices of tomato on each sandwich and applying the bread topper. She pressed it down and dusted her hands together with a satisfied inspection. “Excellent. Last year, I forgot the tomato and I was out of mayo. It was awful. To top it off, we lost to the Seahawks, nineteen to three. Worst Thanksgiving ever. Hands down.” She left the sandwiches to set up T.V. trays in front of the sofa. “We can let the fire burn down some if it gets too toasty in here.”

  “I think it’s nice.” Blake set a wineglass on each tray, hoping Sadie would choose the weirdly large one. He’d feel ridiculous drinking out of something as wide as his face.

  She returned with a sandwich plate in each hand, set them down, and left again, this time returning with a small bowl of cranberry sauce, which she proceeded to spoon onto the plates. “I’ve got pie for dessert. Pumpkin and day-old reduced-price Dutch apple if you’re feeling brave.”

  She switched on the game and, for the next four hours, Blake forgot to think about anything beyond the score. He even found himself rooting for her team, even though he’d never been much of a sports guy. Her passion was contagious. She shouted and cheered, yelled and cursed at the referees. She clapped and hooted when her team scored and covered her face with her hands when they made a mistake. She had nicknames for the players, depending on their performance. Words like pecker were tossed around, and a few Blake was pretty sure she’d made up on the spot.

  By the time the game was over, darkness had fallen, Blake’s stomach hurt from overeating, and Sadie had come down from her maniacal high after her team won the game.

  “I thought we were going to be screwed since so many of our playmakers retired last season.” She muttered as she collected their plates. “They were the heart of the team. I was devastated. But we have a few promising rookies.” She shrugged at her own assessment and headed for the kitchen.

  Blake settled back into the ridiculously comfortable sofa. His shoes were off, in a messy pile near the door. He’d taken off his button-up at some point, and the light gray T-shirt he had on underneath was almost the exact shade of Sadie’s eyes. He was about to suggest a movie when it hit him.

  He shouldn’t be here.

  Keeping Sadie off his mind had become a daily battle. He thought about her all the time. What did she make of Amanda’s new fashion choices? Had she liked the pecan pie better than the cheesecake Amanda made last week? Wherever his thoughts went, there Sadie popped up to snag his attention. It was too easy to laugh along with her, get caught up in her energy, and let Amanda slip his mind entirely.

  The way Quinn had slipped his mind all those years ago.

  He didn’t know what was the bigger joke—that he thought he could be friends with a woman he was clearly attracted to or that he thought himself capable of monogamy. He stood and grabbed for his shoes, searching the sofa for his shirt.

  Sadie returned, her eyebrows drawn in concern. “You all right? Lose something?”

  Blake found his shirt, wedged in between the cushions. He yanked it out and laid it over his arm. “I think I should go.”

  “Sure. Game’s over. Are you okay to drive? The wine was pretty weak.”

  He ignored her and sat again to shove his feet into his loafers.

  She let out a small breathy laugh. “I guess it was too much to ask to have a nice, normal Thanksgiving. For whatever it’s worth, regardless of whatever put that awful pinched look on your face, I had a good time. And I’m glad you came.”

  She was killing him. She was so human, compared to Amanda, who was always proper and always said exactly the right words and would never dream of calling his face awful. At least, not to his face. That was a purely Sadie thing to do. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Look at me. I’m repeating old habits. Girlfriend leaves town, and I’m hanging out drinking with another woman, laughing, and forgetting I even have a girlfriend. I’m asking for it.”

  Sadie dipped her chin and batted her eyelashes. “So, you like me, huh?”

  He took a deep breath and made himself look away. Would she ever stop reminding him of Kira? “You’re easy to be around. Amanda is more of a challenge.” His shoes finally back on his feet where they belonged, Blake stood and straightened, prepared to leave. “But anything that’s worth having is worth fighting for, right?”

  “Huh.” Sadie licked her lips and crossed her arms. “You see the irony here? You judge me for my ambition, yet I don’t believe my desire to become chief accountant is any different from your bulldog approach to earning Amanda’s love. Because I’ll tell you one thing, Blake, my career isn’t a decision I made in a glance, which is exactly how you came to your twisted conclusions about Amanda. And you know what else? I’ve finally figured it out. She reminds you of Quinn. And I remind you of Kira.”

  Stunned by her deduction, Blake swallowed and blinked, unsure of how to explain, or if it was even possible. “No, you—I didn’t mean—”

  “I can tell by the disdainful, disgusted looks you throw my way from time to time. What is it? My height? My hair? My ambition?” Sadie turned her shoulders, cocked her head, and twisted her hips like a model on a runway. “Or is it the whole package?”

  Blake sputtered. He’d never meant Sadie to know how he compared the two of them. Kira had been so manipulative and cruel, which wasn’t like Sadie at all. “Sadie, I’m sorry, I—”

&
nbsp; “Go home, Blake. In case it flew over your sloping forehead, you’ve insulted me twice tonight. For the record, it takes more than a cozy atmosphere to get me into bed. You’re so concerned with what you might do, it completely slipped your mind that it takes two, babe. And while your track record sucks mightily, I have a little more class. I’d never fool around with you behind Amanda’s back.”

  He deserved the sharp rebuke and the resulting shame that seared him from the inside out. He opened the door, turning back only to thank her for dinner, but she had a palm out and a look on her face that dared him to speak.

  “I already have your ticket for the auction tomorrow night,” she said. “Since it’s for a local charity, I expect you won’t let me waste it. Be ready at six.”

  * * * *

  If Blake ever bought a cabin like Fox Watch, he’d name it Dog House.

  Because apparently, that was where he lived.

  He sat alone at their table and watched Sadie make the rounds. She had on a thick, black sweater dress, with a wide neck that showed off her collarbones and came up to mid-thigh, and furry black boots that laced up the back and had soles like a hiking boot. Fashion and function. She broke up the monotony of head-to-toe black with a thick cobalt blue belt high on her waist, which cast a spotlight on her petite hourglass figure to the point Blake kept having to remind himself to look away.

  She seemed to know everyone in the club. From table to table, she shook hands, hugged, laughed, and joked. He’d probably be at her side if he hadn’t been such an ass last night.

  He moped and tried to figure out exactly where he’d screwed up. Should he have stayed at Sadie’s and tempted fate? Ultimately, he’d made a choice and picked Amanda over Sadie. It didn’t explain the guilt lapping at his conscience. After all, he was dating Amanda. Of course, he owed her his loyalty.