Without Apology (Without Series Book 1)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  Without Apology

  By Aubrey Bondurant

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is for mature audiences only.

  Cover by: Rebecca @ The Final Wrap

  Text copyright © 2018 by Aubrey Bondurant

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Peyton

  I was running late. Not that my older sister would be surprised by that fact. I almost always ran late. This Friday, I was cutting out of work earlier than usual in order to babysit her three kids overnight while she and her husband made a romantic night of their ten-year anniversary. I now faced the time challenge of leaving the office, running home to change and get my dog, and then dropping by the grocery store—all while trying to arrive at my sister’s by six.

  I’d shut down my computer and was gathering my stuff when Jeff, the director of payroll, invited himself into my office. I cringed, not wanting to deal with him today. Or any day, for that matter.

  “You’re leaving early, Peyton.”

  As the accounting director of Maddox Consulting, I typically put in fifty-hour weeks. Since I’d been here since seven this morning and was only leaving at four—dammit, now four-fifteen—I didn’t feel one ounce of guilt in doing so. Besides, I didn’t have to justify myself to a fellow director.

  “Actually, I’m leaving on time for a change. What did you need?”

  I couldn’t help my cool tone. The guy was hardly ever in the office, spent company money on anything he could get away with, and basically forwarded any actionable email for me to take care of. Despite the fact we were peers, he always treated me like I should be fetching his coffee. It had been like that all through the three years he’d worked here. I suppose some women might find him attractive with his newscaster hair and insincere smile, but he’d always rubbed me the wrong way. Even before he ever opened his mouth to prove he was a dick.

  “I was dropping by to tell you George called. He’ll be here Monday.”

  George was the owner of the company. He often said I was his ‘key’ person, so I was surprised he’d informed Jeff rather than me that he was coming in.

  “Did he say why?”

  “Word is he’ll be here to announce the new CFO position.”

  With our former boss, the CFO, retiring, the position required a replacement, and the opening had been posted a week ago. I knew without a doubt Jeff had applied. Of course, I’d been mulling it over myself as it was the next logical career move for me. However, the title had its drawbacks.

  “I hadn’t heard the posting had closed.” Most had to stay open for two weeks, especially if they were being offered externally, as this one was.

  Jeff scoffed. “I think we both know that the best candidate has already applied. HR is only going through the motions by keeping it posted for a minimum amount of days.”

  I had to grit my teeth. The last thing anyone wanted was for the lazy bastard in front of me to become boss over the entire accounting department.

  My worry over reporting to him made me miss his next words.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said he could be coming in to lay off staff.”

  Considering the owner could fire Jeff tomorrow, save one hundred and fifty thousand, and not see one dip in productivity, I had to bite my tongue. Despite the growth of the company and that we handled all of the accounting needs from this office, we maintained a slim staff. “That would be a shame.” I slung my computer bag over my shoulder along with my purse, hoping he’d get the hint I was done with the conversation and needed to go.

  “Not always. Sometimes it’s good to keep staff on their toes. Make sure they understand they need to be productive or else.”

  Clearly, we had a different view regarding how to motivate the people who worked here. “Yes, well, we’ll have to agree to disagree. I need to go. Have a nice weekend.”

  He turned red at the fact I was dismissing him, but instead of storming out the way he normally did, he decided to throw his weight in my face. “I realize you’ve been here a long time, but I’d watch your tone with me. After all, I could end up your boss.”

  He was a completely useless figurehead who did absolutely no work. All doubts over whether or not I would apply for the position went out the window. Pride was tricky that way. “Or I could end up yours. See you Monday.”

  I literally had to walk around him to get through the door. It was annoying how he remained standing in the way. As though he enjoyed trying to intimidate me by not moving.

  At least I had the satisfaction of the surprise registering on his face with my words. Obviously, he’d assumed I wouldn’t apply, which pissed me off even further.

  On my way out, I caught the eye of my accounting manager, Megan.

  She and her very pregnant belly got up from inside her cubicle, and she fell into step with me. “I’ll walk you out.”

  As soon as we were in the elevator alone heading down, I muttered, “Asshole.”

  Megan laughed. “You can say that again. Fucker doesn’t do a damn thing.”

  I smiled at her description. Megan was a curvy redhead who was all of five foot nothing and had a foul mouth that would cause a sailor to blush. She was also seven months pregnant with her first child. Since she and her husband had been trying for years with a history of miscarriage, I knew how much apprehension she felt regarding this baby and how anxious she was to deliver.

  She sighed. “Sorry, I forgot the rule. F words are for behind closed doors only. Although, technically, the elevator is private, so in that case I can say he’s a fucking fucker.”

  I chuckled, loving her spunk. She also happened to be the most capable manager ever, dealing with customer service, working hard, and always maintaining a positive attitude.

  “He’s something, all right.” Megan was the only person at work to whom I would ever confide my true feelings as I didn’t want to act unprofessional around my staff in talking about my peer. Not that anyone in the department liked him.

  “Please tell me you’re planning to apply for the CFO job.”

  “I haven’t yet.”

  Although I would most likely apply and the position was a logical career move, truth be told, I wasn’t sure I actually wanted the nex
t rung on the ladder. I already worked enough hours that I had to fight to maintain my work/life balance. I was aware I wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed spending every minute with my job, either. Someday, I hoped to have a family, and in that case, I wouldn’t want to compromise my time with them.

  Megan expelled a long breath as the doors opened to the lobby. “At least submit your résumé. Otherwise, that dipshit may get the job. Then you’ll have to report to him.”

  Ugh. The mere thought of Jeff as my boss made my skin crawl. “I’d probably have to quit.”

  “You and me both, sister. He treats everyone horribly. Especially his own staff. And I heard he’s sleeping with the new girl in HR. She’s, like, twelve.”

  I frowned, not believing in workplace romance or understanding it, for that matter. For me, work and romance could not have been at further ends of the spectrum. “That would be illegal. She’s at least twenty, but yeah, she looks twelve.”

  “Will you please consider the job? You’re definitely more qualified, and everybody is really hoping.”

  No pressure. I blew out a breath as she walked me over the footbridge to my car in the garage next door. “The CFO travels. And not just local where I can drive.”

  “Oh.” She frowned, well aware how I felt about flying.

  “Yeah. Oh.”

  Her expression was sympathetic. “Maybe you can simply explain to George. Don’t you see him sometimes in your town?”

  The owner of the company lived a few miles away—albeit in a gated community—so I sometimes ran into him and his wife at the grocery store or bank. But I doubted he could be flexible on my inability to fly. He might be a nice man, but he had to be practical.

  “I don’t think this is a conversation for the grocery store, but perhaps he’d consider it if I bring it up while he’s here on Monday. Have a great weekend.”

  “You, too.” She gave me a quick hug before looking at her watch.

  “You’d better hurry. You’re late.”

  When wasn’t I?

  ***

  Luckily, traffic cooperated, something unusual during a Friday night commute home. After stopping at my house to change into comfortable clothes, grab my overnight bag and my dog, I then raced to the grocery store. Since my three nieces loved to cook with their Aunt Peyton, I didn’t dare show up without baking ingredients. My hope was we’d all have a ball, and by the time we’d made the kitchen a disaster, the girls would be exhausted enough to fall into bed without protest. After that, I’d pour a glass of wine and clean up the mess.

  At this point, thoughts of my family were a welcome distraction from the stress at work and the worry over Jeff becoming my boss. The last thing I wanted was to let my staff down by allowing that to happen.

  Attempting to put those thoughts aside, I ran into the local market. There were bigger stores on the outside of town, but I knew this store like the back of my hand. I grabbed the last of the ingredients on my list for snickerdoodles and then counted my blessings when there was only one person with a single item in front of me at the checkout counter. Maybe I wouldn’t be so late, after all.

  As I unloaded my full carry basket onto the belt, I couldn’t help noticing the man in front me who was wearing a charcoal gray suit. He was attractive, but what instantly perked up my ears was his British accent. That wasn’t something one often heard in this suburban town outside of Dallas, Texas.

  He was talking to the elderly cashier, who I knew as Laverne, about lacking the identification necessary to buy the bottle of champagne she was holding in her hand.

  “You have my word I’m over the legal drinking age, whatever that may be here in Texas.”

  Laverne adjusted her thick glasses and shook her head. “Unless you have some sort of identification proving it, honey, I can’t sell it to you.”

  He searched the inside pocket of his suit. “Unfortunately, my passport is back in my hotel room. Is there any chance you could give me the bottle now, and I could return tomorrow with my ID?”

  Nice try, I thought, but then realized the words had inadvertently slipped out loud. When his ice-blue eyes focused on me, my body immediately responded. Because the eyes were only part of what made up his gorgeous face, now turned in my direction.

  Damn, David Gandy had nothing on his younger version, for sure. The man’s mouth turned up in a slight smile towards me before he sighed at Laverne, seemingly recognizing that her cataracts and sour expression made any use of his charms a wasted effort.

  Taking pity, I stepped up. “Hey, Laverne, how about I pay for the bottle? I have my ID if you need it.”

  She hesitated and then glared when Brexy, my new mingled word for British and sexy, pulled out his wallet, probably to front me the money.

  “You keep your wallet and your cash where it is, honey. What you two do in private ain’t none of my business, but don’t be doing it in front of me. Rules are rules.”

  Brexy and I exchanged arched brows at Laverne’s suggestive way of putting it, but he stowed his wallet and said, “Understood. I promise to, uh, finish this transaction in private.”

  Now he was smirking. The expression suited his handsome features very well. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Good.”

  As Laverne scanned my items, she started chatting. “Making snickerdoodles with the girls tonight?” She directed the question towards me.

  “Yes. Sure am.” I noticed the man’s gaze flick over to my left hand. Subtle he was not. Then again, neither was I. “My three nieces,” I offered, feeling like an idiot for needing to clarify that point.

  “You don’t need her identification, I take it?” he inquired, making room for me to slide my credit card at the terminal in front of us.

  Laverne tsked “I’ve known Peyton here for nearly the twenty-nine years she’s been on this earth, so I’m quite aware of her age without needing proper identification.” She handed me the receipt after bagging everything and added, “She’s also quite single.”

  And with that, she was moving on to the next customer.

  I shook my head over her use of the word ‘quite’ in front of single. Because ‘single’ wasn’t enough, she had to add the word ‘quite,’ making it sound as if I couldn’t possibly be more single.

  Small towns. Gotta love ‘em.

  Brexy-could-pass-for-David-Gandy’s younger brother walked with me out the door and then fixed his smirk back on me. Suddenly I wished my unruly brown hair was in something other than a messy bun and my makeup wasn’t ten hours old.

  Even if I’d been made up, I certainly wasn’t winning any beauty contests today with my tattered jeans and Mickey Mouse T-shirt putting me over the edge of casual into the land of lazy. Wasn’t that just the way of it, though? During the week, when I dressed in suits and heels, I saw nobody worth getting dressed up for. But when I changed into comfy clothes, I met the sexiest man alive. Oh well.

  “So now that you’re quite aware of not only my age, but also my status and name, would it be too forward to ask for yours?”

  “Simon. Thirty years old and quite single, as well,” he offered, pulling out his wallet. He then cursed at the fact he didn’t appear to have any cash.

  I grinned. “I only meant your name, but I appreciate the even playing field. There’s an ATM next door at the bank if you want to walk over.”

  “Thank you, by the way, for the rescue of the champagne.” He fell into step with me during the short walk down the sidewalk.

  “You’re welcome.” The sound of a horn startled me. I immediately scanned the parking lot, looking for my SUV, and cursed at what I saw. “Shit. I’ll be right back.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before sprinting across the lot to my white Chevy Tahoe. It was a large car for a single woman, but considering the big guy currently in the driver’s seat lying on the horn, I certainly needed one.

  “Cooper, bad dog. No. Get off the horn.” I unlocked the doors, set my bags on t
he seat, and then shoved my humongous, black Great Dane off the driver’s side. “Get back where you belong, you big oaf.” I petted his adorable face and allowed him to nuzzle me, giggling in response as I always did.

  “Ah, beauty and the beast, I see.” Simon’s voice came from behind me.

  I loved the way his sexy British accent sounded. “Aww, did you hear that, Cooper? I was nice enough to buy the man a bottle of champagne, and he goes and calls me a beast.” I rubbed my dog’s ears and was amazed when Simon reached out his hand to let Cooper sniff him.

  “I meant beast in the truest of compliments and obviously for him. He’s gorgeous. Yours?”

  I tried not to swoon over him scratching the biggest love of my life without a care in the world about the dog hair quickly getting all over his expensive-looking suit jacket. “He is. Cooper, this is Simon, who’s quite single, thirty, and likes champagne. Cooper is also single, five years old, and is known for his discerning taste in dog treats, although drinking out of the toilet bowl may negate that touch of class.”

  Simon full on smiled, and boy, was it even better than the smirk. “He’s a lucky lad. I take it he enjoys spending time with your nieces?”

  I laughed. “Definitely. He’s like a big bean bag chair to them. They adore him, and he’s very patient with them. By nine o’clock tonight, they’ll all be passed out.”

  Cooper whined, and I took pity, getting into the driver’s seat to start the car so he could get some AC. It was an overcast day in March, and although all the windows had been down, he preferred the cooler air blowing on him because he was spoiled.

  “Does that mean you’d be available after nine o’clock this evening for a drink?”

  God, I wished. To be honest, there was a moment I was tempted to be selfish and say yes, but I couldn’t do that to my sister. Not only was she the most important person in my life, but she’d also sacrificed a great deal for me over the years. And tonight was an important occasion for her.

  “Not this evening, I’m afraid. I’m staying overnight because it’s my sister’s anniversary.” Taking my buzzing phone out of my pocket, I apologized towards Simon. “Sorry. Speak of the devil.” I answered quickly with my excuse, “I have the stuff and am on my way.”