I watch the numbers slowly change from one floor to the next. To make things better, I’m stuck with an older woman wearing enough perfume to choke a horse. I hope the freesia scent doesn’t cling to my clothes.
Arriving in the lobby, I barely give the concierge time to open the door as I rush out to the street in hopes of catching a cab. I wave my hand at one passing by, calling out, “Taxi!” and it rolls to a stop.
Perfect timing for once.
I make it four steps when a shoulder slams into me out of nowhere. My folder flies through the air. The papers explode like a flock of pigeons and float down to the sidewalk. Catching my balance after managing not to snap a heel, I watch in horror as my hard work scatters itself along the sidewalk.
I throw my hands up. “Really?”
What are the chances?
I shake my head. It’ll be a miracle if the wind doesn’t carry my papers off to the suburbs of Chicago. I let out an annoyed huff and glance to the perpetrator who caused this misfortune. My eyes start at his Berluti shoes and work their way up a Burberry three-piece that’s tailored perfectly to his frame. Icy blue eyes meet my gaze paired with a mischievous smirk. A smirk that would no doubt be sexy under different circumstances. Damn, he’s hot. His smoldering stare is something out of the movies.
“You could have said excuse me, or sorry at least.” I narrow my eyes on him then drop down to gather my papers. His cologne lands in my nose and smells so good it should be banned. Warmth spreads through my veins as I inhale the intoxicating scent.
A low snicker passes between his perfectly sculpted lips. “You bumped into me, sweetheart.” His voice is low and comes out like a primal growl that would make me weak in the knees if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.
I suck in a breath and get a grip on myself, shaking off the sexual thoughts rushing to the forefront of my mind. It’s just that I have a thing for sexy voices. Sure, I love a good-looking man as much as the next single woman, but give me a deep voice that vibrates down to my core and it does something to me. This jerk has the voice and the looks that go with it. I bet that neatly trimmed beard would work wonders against my thighs.
Regardless of my impure thoughts, he picked the wrong woman to mess with.
“Sweetheart?” I roll my eyes. “No. I recall the moment perfectly. You barreled into me and nearly knocked me to the ground.” I glance to the sidewalk. “Look at my papers.”
I watch his eyes flit from my cleavage to the strewn papers on the ground and back to my breasts. He makes no attempt to hide the fact he’s ogling the twins.
I point two fingers at him then at my face as I speak. “My eyes are right here, buddy.”
He stares like I’m on a display, put there solely for his amusement. Those blue eyes cut into me like glaciers. “Buddy.” He snorts. “Have to admit, I like the view of you on your knees in front of me.”
“In your dreams, pal.”
“Highly doubtful.” He rubs his jaw, still smirking. Those blue eyes pierce straight through me once more.
He must see I’m thinking about what he said, me on my knees in front of him. I bet he’s hung like a damn horse. Jerks usually are, in my experience anyway. I mentally smack myself. I need to snap out of it.
Sneering, I move to gather my papers.
The hottie in the suit bends down to help. He reaches for my folder, and I smack his large hand.
“I’ve got it.” Cute or not, this guy is an ass and gets on my last nerve. Not to mention nobody touches my work. Nobody!
“Have a nice evening.” He huffs out a breath and has the nerve to climb into my cab.
“What the hell?” I yell at him and throw my hand up. “That’s my cab. I’m in a hurry.”
He shoots me a sly wink. A grin spreads across his smug face and his pearly whites flash. “I’m in a hurry too, sweetheart.” He smacks the door of the cab twice. “Spoils of war.”
“Asshole!”
The cab speeds off.
I grind my teeth and continue trying to make heads or tails of the mess he’s left me in. This is just great. Now, I have to go back into the hotel and fix everything. All my hard work is ruined. The papers are all out of order. Hours of my life wasted.
My phone pings, and I know it’s Weston ready to chew my ass out for not being there. It’s not like I’m wasting his time on purpose. Rain drops plop on my head and thrum on the ground, and at this moment, I don’t know how things could get any worse. I clutch everything under my arm and run as fast as my heels allow back into the hotel lobby before the rain ruins my hair.
Shaking my head, I hop back in the elevator and make it to my room. One glance in the mirror and rage consumes me. I look like a wet rat with smudged makeup. Grabbing a towel, I wrap my hair up and hustle to get organized once more. If I ever see that bastard again, he’s a dead man.
Walking into the bar thirty minutes late, I’m surprised to find Weston still there. I square my shoulders and approach. He’s perched on a stool nursing a tumbler of whiskey. I lay the files on the stained oak bar top and situate myself on the stool next to him.
He rubs his chin. His eyes are two dark slits and burn a hole into me. I know I messed up, but it wasn’t my fault.
“Where the hell have you been?” His voice is low but lethal. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?” He grips the glass and taps the side for the bartender to pour him a refill.
“You done?”
Weston doesn’t respond. He simply takes a long swig of the dark brown liquid.
“I would’ve been here half an hour ago if some jerk didn’t knock my papers everywhere and steal my cab. Then came the damn rain.” I huff out a breath and that stupid curl springs to my forehead. I blow it out of my eyes and wait for Weston to respond. I’m sure he’s going to rip my ass and threaten to fire me, but with the mood I’m in, I almost welcome it so I can argue with him. We both know he won’t follow through on any threats and I need to let off some steam.
Weston halfway laughs to himself.
“What?” I shoot a glare in his direction.
“Nothing, that’s just how I met Brooke. Stole her cab. Granted I didn’t knock her on her ass.”
I narrow my eyes and try to reclaim some amount of dignity. Through gritted teeth I say, “He didn’t knock me on my ass.”
Weston sighs. “Whatever, Decker left already. Got tired of waiting. You made me look incompetent.”
“I’m not a miracle worker. I warned you I didn’t have enough time to get everything ready. I’d barely checked in when you demanded this shit.” I pat the folder I carried in. “Did you want half-assed work? Because that’s not what you pay me for, and you know it.”
“Whatever. You win.” He shakes his head and orders me a drink. “You look like you need one. Just make sure you’re prepared for the meeting tomorrow.”
I smirk. “I always am, when given an appropriate amount of time.” I knock back the drink. I deserve it after the day I’ve had. Weston settles the bill.
“Tate?”
“Yeah?”
He grins and nods at my head. “Do something about that hair.”
I scowl back at him. Asshole.
He snickers.