by Kayla Oliver
The woman—Amelia, I assumed—leaned back in the car for a second and shared a few words with whoever else was in the car dropping her off.
I wasn’t all that invested and really felt more impatient. I wanted to get food already, plus I was basically set up to hate this woman, so I was fairly certain anything she said or did was going to piss me off.
But as she leaned into the car, the other person leaned toward her just enough that I caught a glimpse of his face.
I froze.
It was Callum Reid.
Amelia kissed the corner of his mouth, then did a little finger waggle wave. My eyes felt like they were the size of saucers.
I did not just see Callum’s other girlfriend… did I?
Chapter Fourteen
Trent
Sarah leaned against the doorjamb, staring into the kitchen as I made a sandwich. Mayo. Then mustard. Then roast beef and cheese. Tomato, lettuce, onion. A couple of hot peppers—
“You’re disgusting, you know that, right?” Sarah told me mildly with a smile on her face.
I waved her off. “You’re just jealous of my awesome sandwich.”
“Sandwich, heartburn, yeah, it’s definitely one of those things.”
Smashing everything together, I slapped my sandwich on a plate and grabbed chips. I poured those liberally next to the sandwich. I grabbed some milk—because healthy eating was important to me, obviously—and walked my lovely meal toward the dining room.
Sarah followed me.
“Who eats a sandwich for dinner anyway?” she asked mildly.
I ignored her and sat down at the table, settling myself in for the meal. Just because she had no imagination on the obvious pros of eating sandwiches for dinner, didn’t mean I was equally as oblivious to the truth. I took that first, glorious bite. Food was food for the soul, I decided as I munched. But it was hard to eat in peace with Sarah just sitting there watching me.
I attempted to ignore her, because I felt a deep, serious conversation on the horizon, and I didn’t think I was going to like it. So as I chewed, I tried to think of other things.
Like my manuscript, except that was a horrible idea.
The damn thing was nowhere near done. I wasn’t making any progress, and my editor was breathing down my neck. Where was the inspiration supposed to be coming from? Maybe if the deadlines weren’t so close, or if I’d just had some damn time to really do my work… well, then I could work through this block and finally figure out just what it was that my story needed.
Novel concept.
But I doubted I was going to get much more in the way of extensions.
Suddenly, I was regretting thinking of the manuscript. It was making my sandwich taste like ash. Though in the end it was better than thinking of Amelia—or Courtney.
Amelia was in town.
Courtney refused to speak to me.
I tried to force thoughts of both girls from my mind. This was not what I needed to be thinking about right then.
“Have you told Courtney how you feel yet?”
And so much for not thinking about her. I dropped my sandwich down on my plate, because I really wasn’t hungry anymore. Sarah was looking at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for an answer to her question, and for a moment I wanted to strangle her.
Did she have to ask? Really?
I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest, pouting like a petulant child, but I really didn’t care. “Yes,” I told her.
When she lifted a thick eyebrow skeptically, I uncrossed my arms.
“What? I did!”
“Okay.” She carefully pulled out a chair from the table and sat down across from me. She laid her elbows on the table and waited. “And?”
“And nothing,” I muttered.
“What do you mean nothing?”
“I mean nothing. That was what I got as an answer. Nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge it.”
Sarah’s face scrunched up into a frown. She wiggled her nose. “What? How could she not even acknowledge it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I never got a text back.”
Her face went blank, and then it shifted to one of annoyance, her lips mashed together and her eyebrows almost straight over her eyes.
“What?” I demanded.
“Are you telling me you texted her that you loved her?”
I hesitated. Although it didn’t sound bad, I had the feeling that there was something bad in her words. I suddenly didn’t want to tell her that that was exactly how I’d done it, but I had a feeling I’d already shot myself in the foot there.
“Um, maybe?”
She groaned. “Jesus, Trent! No wonder she hasn’t gotten back to you!”
“Jesus, what did I do? Girls make no fucking sense.”
She waved me off impatiently, wafting away my words as though they were a bad smell. “You’re an idiot and girls are not complicated. But no one wants to hear that someone loves them through a text message.”
“I text my grandmother that I love her all the time,” I pointed out. “She doesn’t mind.”
“You’re an idiot,” she deadpanned. “Your grandmother doesn’t mind because she already knows you love her. Genius. No girl wants to hear it for the first time via text message. ‘Luv ya, babe’ is not high on any girls’ list of romantic fantasy.”
The corners of my mouth turned down into a frown as a cold feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. Had I fucked this up already? It was sure starting to sound that way.
“What are you saying, then? That I need to tell her in person? ’Cause I’m pretty sure if I showed up at her apartment—which I have no idea where that is—she would freak out and get a restraining order against me for stalking.”
Sighing, Sarah shook her head. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not telling you to say it in person, but I’m telling you you’re going to have to show her one way or another.”
“And by show, you mean…?” I prompted, motioning with my hand for her to continue.
“I’m saying big gesture it.”
I snorted. “I don’t do big gestures.”
She laughed at me, shaking her head at what she clearly thought was my ignorance. “Jesus, you are an idiot, aren’t you?”
I stuck out my tongue at her, just to prove her wrong.
Ignoring that, she said, “It’s your only hope at winning her over, so you should probably get with the program.”
I was not going to do a big gesture. Fuck that. I didn’t need to do something like that. People were either in love or they weren’t, right? Who needed all the bullshit that came with a grand gesture?
Of course, then I thought about it and realized I probably needed it.
“What kind of gesture?” I finally asked, not caring how much like a pansy I looked.
She grinned at me. “I don’t know. Climb the fire escape with roses.”
“No,” I told her flatly. “This is not Pretty Woman, and I feel like she’d take offense, considering the main girl in that was a prostitute.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe try tickets to her favorite show or, ooh, you could sing to her! A serenade. Chicks dig that.”
I groaned loudly and obnoxiously. “I am not serenading her! Are you crazy?”
“Fine. I really thought that one was good, but okay.” She thought about it for a moment before finally just shrugging. “I don’t know. Maybe you should just write her a book.”
She pushed up out of her chair then and wished me luck, out of ideas. I watched her go, and it wasn’t until she was out of the room that it hit me.
A gesture.
A really big one.
One that was going to take some serious time.
“Sarah!” I called after her, shoving my chair back from the table and standing fast enough that it wobbled.
She came running back, startled. “What? What? What’s wrong?”
I grinned at her. “Go meet with Marnie and tell her that I’ll have the novel done in a month.”
>
Her mouth dropped open. “Uh, no. As in, no way in hell. I am not—”
But I ignored her protests. I was already halfway up the stairs. Inspiration had finally hit me, and I wasn’t going to waste a drop of it. This was my chance to make things come together, and maybe, it would save whatever was between myself and Courtney.
Chapter Fifteen
Marnie
I tapped my heel impatiently as I waited for Trent to show up—or to not, as he seemed to prefer these days. He was a thorn in my side, and if I hadn’t been made partner over him, I’d have tossed him to the curb already.
“He’s a best-selling author, Marnie. Get a grip,” I told myself, but it was difficult. I was frazzled more than usual these days. Between Trent’s complete lack of manuscript and Courtney’s… well, everything with Courtney, I was about losing my mind.
I thought of her words from the other day. Horrible. Mean. Deliberately targeted to hurt me. At least, that was what it felt like. And it was so unlike Courtney. We’d been friends since college, and when that friendship had transferred to the workplace, it had been seamless. We didn’t miss a beat.
But I was beginning to wonder if that had been more about a lack of romance in our lives rather than any special bond between us.
Courtney was a certified man hater, and all of a sudden she was moping excessively over some asshole that she knew was a player—not to mention the fact that he was my client.
And I was involved with Callum, a man whom I hated upon first meeting him. He also happened to be the owner of a rival company that my boss absolutely fucking hated.
Where the hell had we gone wrong?
I glanced at my wristwatch, and when I saw that Harvey was already five minutes late, I decided I would call him and wring his neck over the phone.
What a pain in my ass.
But before I’d completed dialing, there was a knock at my door.
I sighed. “Finally. C’mon in, Harvey. Let’s talk about your manuscript, which I still have not seen any of.”
“And you’re not going to.”
I looked up at the sound of a young woman’s voice. It wasn’t Trent Harvey standing in my office, but a young woman who was around my age, maybe a little younger, with thick hair and pale skin. She didn’t do much in the way of makeup, but she was pretty enough. A little plain, but attractive.
“I’m sorry, but this is a private office, and unless you have an appointment…”
She shook her head. “I’m here on behalf of Trent Harvey.”
My eyebrows tugged low over my eyes. Why was I not surprised? He sent some floozy to tell me he wouldn’t be here. How charming. I had half a thought to call Courtney and tell her that some woman was running errands for Harvey, but I didn’t think that was fair. I was out to hurt Courtney right now, emotionally anyway, because I felt slighted. But in a day or so, I might feel differently.
“Who the hell are you?” I asked flatly.
“I’m Sarah, Trent’s friend and unofficial secretary.”
My eyebrows shot up. I hadn’t heard anything about her… had I? Now that I thought about it, I was pretty sure I had heard some mention about a Sarah. From Callum. Something about a young woman the equivalent of a little sister.
My stance relaxed slightly when I considered her in those terms. “Okay, and in that capacity, what are you doing here?”
“I’m just here to let you know that Trent won’t be here for the meeting—”
“You don’t say,” I interjected dryly. I couldn’t say I was even slightly surprised by that, even if I hadn’t expected this Sarah lady.
She continued without pausing to acknowledge my quip. “—but that you’ll have the manuscript next month.”
Now that actually was surprising. My eyebrows shot up high on my head, and I thought they might permanently disappear into my hair somewhere, that was how shocked I was by this.
“I was starting to think I’d never actually get a manuscript,” I told her, half-honestly.
She pursed her lips together, her eyes narrowing at me. Despite having never met the woman, there was no question in her stance or expression that she did not like me. I wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t. “Trent told you you’d have it. You’ll have it. He’s a man of his word.”
I snorted indelicately at that. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Sarah looked like she was about to puff up and say something about my tone, but before she got the chance, the door opened. Dorian poked his head in, grabbing the attention of both of us.
“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting.” His eyes darted to Sarah and lingered there, his gaze slipping over the whole of her before returning to her face. He stepped farther into the room and offered his hand and a smile to her. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Dorian Leeson.”
Sarah’s sour expression shifted almost instantly, and her voice warmed as she laughed a little. Her hand slipped into his, and they shook as she said, “For just a second I was sure you were going to say Dorian Gray.”
He laughed, too. “No such luck. I’m afraid I’m only mortal.”
“But you could be the model for his portrait,” she cooed, her cheeks reddening.
I rolled my eyes. Seriously? They were flirting in my office. Honest to God, I’m not even here, flirting in my office. Talk about disgusting. Folding my arms across my chest, I tapped the toe of my shoes against the floor as I waited for them to finish their ridiculous flirting and get them both out of my office.
“You flatter me,” he answered her. They were still shaking hands. “And who would want to paint me if they caught even a glimpse of you.”
I wanted to gag. Partially because Dorian was a flirt and this was par for the course as far as he was concerned, but also because, really? Her? She wasn’t ugly, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call her beautiful. Definitely not prettier than Dorian. He’d always been on the beautifully masculine side and everyone knew it. This woman? She was the picture the dictionary used to define Plain Jane.
But the woman ate it up. She laughed and her blush deepened, which actually worked in her favor. I had half an interest in telling her to wear a little blush, it looked so attractive on her, but I held my tongue. Last thing I wanted to do was get mixed up in their silliness.
“I appreciate the compliment, but I highly doubt that’s true,” Sarah said, batting her eyelashes girlishly.
I doubted it also but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
“Don’t doubt it for a second,” Dorian told her seriously. And then he actually fucking winked.
I wanted to die. Deciding I’d had enough, I cleared my throat. Both Dorian and Sarah looked startled, as though they’d completely forgotten I was even there. Even though this was my goddamn office. “Thank you for letting me know Mr. Harvey’s revised timeline,” I said diplomatically to Sarah. “I appreciate the effort, but as you can see, I do have other business to attend to.”
Sarah blinked her large eyes at me, a deer caught in the headlights. She coughed awkwardly, then pulled her hand away from Dorian’s. Finally. “Um, it was a pleasure to meet you,” she told him stiffly.
Dorian was unfazed by my interruption and her embarrassment both. “The pleasure, I assure you, was definitely all mine.”
She giggled, then coughed again to try to cover it. She smiled at Dorian and glared at me, then left my office. I’d never been so relieved to see a woman go before.
Dorian watched her until she was most definitely down the hall and in the elevator. He seemed unusually smitten with her.
“Not really your type, is she?” I asked pointedly when he was still staring after her, even when the elevator went down.
He finally turned back to look at me and grinned. “You don’t think so?”
I shrugged mildly. “I always pictured you with someone more high maintenance.”
He laughed. “I’m not sure that’s a vote of confidence for me.”
“We all have our weaknesses,” I told him pr
ettily.
Shaking his head but still smiling, he propped his hip on the edge of my desk. “I have those papers for you. The ones for Odessa.” He offered them to me.
I took them gratefully and flipped idly through them. I’d wait until I was home before taking a closer look at them. “Thanks, I’ve been waiting on these.”
He nodded, pausing. “Was she a new client?” he asked casually.
I didn’t even look up at him from the papers, smirking at the documents. “No, she’s not. She’s Trent Harvey’s secretary.”
“A secretary?” He sounded surprised. “She’s got to be more than a secretary.”
I shook my head. “Secretary. That’s what she told me. Sure she’s still your type?”
He was pouting slightly, an amusing expression on his handsome face. He was older than me by several years—I’d never asked how many—but he looked about nineteen sometimes. Pouting like this? He could have passed for a high schooler.
“Jesus, wipe that pitiful look off your face,” I told him with a laugh. “Maybe she’s got more ambitious dreams.”
He nodded. “Maybe.” Shoving off from my desk, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He was such a kid sometimes. “Regardless. Let me know what’s going on with Harvey, and let me know if there are any more issues with the Odessa project.”
I thanked him and he left. I thought I was in the clear, but then I received a call at my desk. So much for getting out of there. I answered it and was surprised to hear the same cool voice of Sarah from earlier. “Sarah?”
“Sorry. I forgot to tell you that Trent or I will give you a firm date for final delivery in the next day or two,” she explained professionally, really sounding like a secretary. She reminded me of Courtney, which hurt a little bit, to be honest. “Other than that, you’re not going to hear from him. He won’t take your calls. He won’t answer emails. And he’s not going to show up for meetings.”