Page 32 of Without Apology
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Peyton
By Friday, I was exhausted. It had been another long week, with Russ asking a lot of questions and taking even more notes about dozens of spreadsheets. I’d answered all of his inquiries, knowing there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Luckily, I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d told Simon Russ was smart and was catching onto to our business quickly. Turned out he was quite funny, too, which didn’t make the days quite so dreadful.
When he’d asked me what I was doing for dinner tonight, I’d politely told him I was busy with other plans. Before meeting Simon, I would’ve at least entertained the idea of a meal with the guy. We had things in common, he was handsome and easy to get along with, but I simply wasn’t into him. For some inexplicable reason, my attraction to Brexy muddled my ability to see anyone else. It was unfair to be this affected by a man who was off limits.
As far as Simon was concerned, I’d had glimpses of him during the week. Each time, my body practically buzzed as if it could sense his energy floating by. But he hadn’t bothered to stop by. Hadn’t engaged other than to come in to ask Russ for a few things from time to time.
It bothered me at first that he’d brought up my father the way he had. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the insinuation I’d gotten my job because of my dad’s status. Jeff had the nerve to say as much to my face when he’d first started to work here. But what hurt was the way Simon had reacted after discovering the truth. As if he would have chosen torture over apologizing for the way he’d asked about my dad’s influence. He wouldn’t even say he was sorry for finding out my father had passed away. What halfway decent person didn’t say, ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ as an automatic response to finding out someone had died?
Ready to call it a day, I looked up at a knock to see Emma at my office door. Did the woman have to look stunning ten hours into a Friday? But seeing as she’d been nothing but nice and helpful all week, I couldn’t justify an ounce of jealousy about Simon spending most of his time with her. Hadn’t he said he thought of her as a sister?
Not that I cared. Liar.
“Hi, Emma,” I greeted never having seen her down on our floors before.
“Hello. Um, any chance I could interest you in drinks tonight? I don’t know anyone in the city and thought maybe we could grab some.”
Her invitation was awkward at best, but it was sincere. “Sure. I need to go home first, though, to feed my dog.”
“How about eight o’clock? Maybe at my hotel? I’ll text you the address.”
Her hotel. Which meant it was Simon’s hotel, too. “Okay. Are you changing clothes?”
“God, yes. Jeans.”
“Great. See you there.”
Call it morbid curiosity, but I simply couldn’t say no.
***
I was late. But at least only by five minutes. I felt guilty about all of my extended nights and now leaving Cooper at home. But considering that on most Fridays I was in bed by now, he couldn’t have expected a whole lot more than sleeping anyhow. Still, I planned to take him to the dog park tomorrow to make up for it.
As I walked into the bar at the Four Seasons, I could see it was already filling up, but I spotted Emma straight away. With her jet-black hair down her back and killer-red lipstick, she perched on a stool at the end, talking with the bartender. Leave it to her to rock a pair of jeans as if she was modeling them later. Not that I was a slouch in my dark-wash skinny jeans paired with my gray sweater, but Emma was stunning.
“Hi,” I greeted.
“Hi, yourself. Love your jumper.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Jumper?”
“Sorry, your sweater.”
“Ah.” And who said English was the same everywhere? “Thanks. In Texas you have only a short window to wear them before it gets hot again. It’s been a cooler-than-usual March.”
“What’s your pleasure?” she queried, with a martini in front of her.
“I’ll take whiskey on the rocks with a splash of sours, please.”
“Simon is a whisky man, too.”
If I’d wondered if his name would come up tonight, the question was answered within the first minute. I simply concentrated on my hands, not knowing how to maneuver the proverbial land mine.
The bartender, who was quite handsome, came over to deliver my drink. He only had eyes for Emma. Couldn’t blame the guy. “Anything else, love?”
Huh, and he was Irish.