“Buy her something expensive,” Maylee began.
“Darling,” Griffin said. “Let’s not encourage him into more bad ideas? I still think the entire thing is a ticking time bomb of poor choices.”
Maylee raised a blonde brow at her fiancé, then looked over at Loch. “Take her on a vacation. Change up the scenery.”
Now that idea had merit. Get Taylor away from her laptop and her endless barrage of text messages and emails that she had to answer at all hours from both guild-mates and work? Get her some time to unwind and relax, seduce her—that was his favorite part of the idea—and then mention making things permanent. Somewhere tropical would be nice. He raised his glass to Maylee. “I can see why my cousin’s marrying you.”
“Back off, Casanova,” Griffin said. “She’s mine. Find yourself another American girl to woo.”
Maylee just grinned and linked her fingers in Griffin’s.
***
After the dinner with his cousin and Maylee, Loch headed down to a bakery a few blocks away from the hotel and got a few sweets for Taylor. She’d eaten all the marshmallows out of the cereal he’d gotten her and all of the candy out of the minibar. His American had a bit of a sweet tooth, so he picked up several different confections that were lavished in frosting and coated with candy bits, sure they would please her.
When he got back to his hotel room, though, Taylor was curled up on the couch in a ball, tears streaking down her face. He set down the baked goods and dashed across the room to her side. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? Is it your ankle? Your head?” He touched a hand to her brow, where the stitches still peeked out from her hairline.
She sat up slowly, miserable tears streaking down her face. “I got fired.”
“You what?” Loch sat down on the couch next to her and pulled her into his arms. She went, burying her face against his chest and starting to cry anew. He felt . . . fuck, he felt helpless in the face of her unhappiness. He was a good-time guy, and his friends were easygoing wealthy types. He didn’t know how to comfort someone who’d just lost a job. He stroked her hair, letting her cry for a minute. “What happened?”
Taylor sniffed, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “My boss said they wanted to have a call to discuss some departmental changes with me. So I logged on to the conference call and it was him . . . and someone from Human Resources. He said my performance had been slipping and that I was late all the time, and I called in a lot. So they decided to let me go.” Her voice broke.
“Those bastards.” His grip tightened around her. “They’re just being pricks.”
“The worst part about it is that they’re not.” She sat up and swiped at her face with the back of a hand. “Everything they said? They’re right. I have called in a lot. I am late all the time.”
“Recently it’s been because of your head—”
“But that wasn’t the only instance, and I’ve been late several times this week with no excuse.” She gave him a sad look. “Other than spending time with you. And I’ve missed lots of days from needing to be online for stupid guild stuff.” She looked miserable at the thought.
“So don’t play that silly game so much,” he said gently. “You don’t enjoy it anyhow.”
To his chagrin, her face crumpled and she started to cry even harder. “You don’t understand. It’s not that I want to, I just . . . It’s complicated.”
Because of this Sigmund guy that harasses you? he wanted to ask, but if she wasn’t comfortable sharing, he wouldn’t pry. He stroked her shoulder. “What can I do to help?”
“There’s nothing you can do,” she wept. “I just have to try and find another job somehow. I should go back to my apartment and dig out my old résumé and—”
“Stay here,” he said swiftly. The thought of her going home and his hotel room returning to its empty loneliness bothered him. Even when she was working, it was nice to have her presence here. They chatted even as she typed, and he was probably part of the reason she’d been fired, because he liked to distract her. “I’ll miss you if you leave.”
She sniffed and gave him a sad look. “I can’t just hang out with you all day, Loch. I need to find another job—”
“I’ll hire you,” he volunteered. “How much do you want to make?”
Her sniffles changed to confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’ll hire you. You can be my assistant while I’m here.”
“Do . . . do you need an assistant? I thought you said you were going to try and be more independent?”
Funny how any thoughts of being independent went out the window the moment she started crying. “I’m sure there’s things you can do for me. You can . . . you can get my laundry for me.”
“There’s maids that bring it to the room.”
Oh. He cast around for another idea. “You can help me pick out an apartment if I’m going to be staying here long-term.”
“You hire a Realtor to do that.”
“Taylor,” he chided. He took her hands in his. “Trust me when I say I have lots of need for an assistant, all right? If it’ll make you happier, think of it as a paid companion. I get bored easily and need entertainment, and you can help me with that.”
Her brows furrowed. “Are we still going to be sleeping together?”
“God, yes.”
“Then doesn’t that make me a hooker?”
He groaned. “Can you stop overanalyzing things? I’ll come up with something for you to do, all right? You need a job, I can give you a job. Do we need to look beyond that?”
She thought for a moment, then gave him a worried look. “I’d need to make at least twenty an hour to cover my rent and expenses. That’s how much I made at my old job.”
Yeah, and he’d seen her tiny, ridiculous apartment. “Then I will pay you twenty-five dollars an hour.”
She gasped, her eyes lighting up. “For just being your friend?”
“That’s right.”
“Loch.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “You realize I’d be your friend for free, right?”
“Taylor,” he said in the same gentle voice. “You realize I’d give you barrels of money if you’d just stop crying?”
Her soft chuckle made him feel better. “Can you afford an employee?”
“Oh, I’m certain of it. I have several of them back home.”