“Should things change, you know where to find me.” He winks and Chelsea’s eyes follow him for a moment. Since the booth behind me doesn’t shift, I assume he’s moved on to make the people on the other side of the room miserable with his presence.
Usually, I’d resort to curse words and another drink or two after reliving my divorce with the man who facilitated it, but the ladies need to trust that their boss can handle an egotistical male who’s trying to be the white knight galloping in to save the day.
“Holy shit,” Chelsea says, her hands clutching her stomach like she’s about to vomit. “I thought Dean and I were intense. You two.”
“Chels.” My tone holds a warning.
“Good for you, Hannah. He can go suck it.” Victoria downs the rest of her Vesper.
I smile politely at Victoria. Chelsea’s still awestruck, her eyes having a hard time not veering over to Roarke.
“He’s just so…” Chelsea never learning her lesson continues to ramble. “Commanding.” Her eyes sweep over ours. “Like he’d do nasty stuff to you, but you’d enjoy every minute and then end up begging for more.”
I don’t disagree with Chelsea. Roarke Baldwin screams ‘strap me to a bed and show me how a real man does it.’ Not that I would say that. Ever.
No, I’d fall to my knees and show him exactly how a woman can transform him into making her breakfast the next morning. But if I let one toe dip in that water, I’m sure he’ll swallow me up like a hungry crocodile. That’s why the electric fence is between us, so it can zap me every time my damn lady parts want to take a dip.
“Chels. Dean?” Victoria reminds her of her fiancé.
Chelsea waves her hand in the air and rolls her eyes. “Please, Dean knows he’s the only one for me. I’ll tell him all about Roarke Baldwin when I get home and he’ll probably be extra alpha tonight to prove he’s the real man.” She looks absolutely giddy thinking about it. A flush appears on her cheeks as though she’s imagining what he’ll do to her. “I give Hannah credit though. I would’ve crumbled and I’m a hard case to break.”
“Chelsea, all Dean had to do was get you alone in his office,” Victoria says.
Her cheeks redden even more.
Sometimes I wonder what if? What if I wouldn’t have settled with Todd? What would fate have brought my way if I’d stayed single?
Roarke Baldwin?
My subconscious needs a real talking to.
“Chelsea, I don’t care what you have to do. I’ll pay whatever the cost. Find me a venue,” I say, shifting the conversation back to business.
She nods, knowing we’re shifting into go time.
I hired her because I saw her capability of turning no’s into yes’s so I feel assured that she won’t fail me now. There’s no way I can go to Roarke Baldwin and let the man have one up on me. At least not without losing my dignity.
Chapter Three
When I arrive at the office the following morning, Chelsea’s in her office carrying on and on to Victoria.
Usually, I’d be happy to listen, but I need her on her A-game this morning. I don’t need to hear about the mind-blowing sex performance of Dean last night.
Dropping my bags on the chair in front of Victoria’s desk, I make my way down the short hallway to join them.
“Look at me. I can’t stop.” I hear Chelsea chuckle.
“You’re glowing,” Victoria says.
“You can’t what? Stop smiling. Enough with the—” My heels stop on the carpet and my arms land on the sides of the doorway.
Chelsea’s red and bloodshot eyes greet me. Oh no. Please say no.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Victoria smiles softly at me indicating it’s not the conclusion I’m drawing.
“Chelsea is experiencing first trimester pregnancy, that’s all. When your hormones are zooming all over your body like little space cadets.”
“Can’t I shoot them down like Centipede?” Chelsea grabs a tissue and blows her nose.
Man, I thought PMS days were bad around here.
“First of all, Centipede is a bug. Maybe you’re talking about the Space Invaders game?” Victoria always has the mom wisdom around here.
Chelsea completely disregards Victoria’s response. “Dean thinks there’s something wrong. He says I shouldn’t be crying so much.”
“How much are you crying?” I ask, sitting and crossing my legs in the chair in front of her desk.
As always, Victoria hovers by the door in case someone calls.
“Well, I cried at a commercial the night before last and again as I was scrolling through Facebook. I never noticed how much sad stuff is on there. I mean a man surprising his son after coming home from the war? Come on. Who doesn’t cry at that?” She raises her hands in the air and shakes them as though asking for a prayer to be answered.
“That’s normal. I get teary-eyed with that kinda stuff, too.” Victoria attempts to be the consoling friend.
A hopeful look crosses Chelsea’s face for a second. “I cried thinking about Grover. Thinking how I barely know him and how he’ll never grow as close to me as he is Dean. That he’s going to die one day and I never knew him as a puppy.”
I glance at Victoria who returns my look of bewilderment.
“See? Look at you two exchanging looks like I’m a lunatic. Maybe Dean is right. What if this is some sign that my hormones are crashing?”
“It’s not.” Victoria walks over and props herself on the edge of the desk, placing her hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “This is all normal. With Jade, I cried because Pete brought me a banana milkshake instead of a strawberry one.”
“I’d be mad, too. These cravings are no joke. Dean went out last night at ten pm to get me Chick-Fil-A.”
“Were they open?” Victoria asks like she’s done a late night run before only to be disappointed.
“No. He got there right as they were locking the doors. The damn teenage manager couldn’t be bribed. And guess what?”
“You cried?” I ask.
Chelsea nods, tears welling in her eyes all over again.
Ding, ding, I got the answer right.
“You two are not making pregnancy sound appealing.” I stand smoothing out my skirt.
“Wait until you meet him or her. All these crazy emotions are all worth it. I promise.” Victoria kisses Chelsea’s forehead like the mom she is. “Tell Dean not to overreact. He’s in for a long ride.”
Chelsea laughs, her tears drying and I don’t want to be a jackass of a boss, but I really need her to secure us a new venue for the gala. Preferably today. I was up all night figuring out who owed me a favor. Since half of my contacts disappeared the minute I signed my divorce papers, the list has shrunk considerably.
“Oh, Hannah, I’m waiting for callbacks from a few venues. Don’t worry, I won’t cry to them on the phone.”
“Great, keep me posted.” I walk out of the office wondering how the next six or seven months of her pregnancy will pan out.
Victoria follows. “I put the messages on your desk this morning. Reed said he’ll call in some favors too and see if he can work anything out for us, but he’s in court most of today.”