“Okay, sounds good,” Phoebe agrees, and Gabe nods.
“I’ll come back with you,” I blurt, all eyes snapping to me. “In case anything comes up that needs an official capacity?”
“Are you asking or telling, Atkins?” Gabe sniggers and downs the rest of his scotch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pay the check and find a bar that serves good bacon cheeseburgers.”
“I’ll write down an address, it’s only a couple of blocks away,” Phoebe offers. “And Hamond Zane is paying for this dinner, it is a work meeting after all.”
“Much obliged.” Gabe makes a hat-tipping motion, then turns to me. “Don’t be an asshole while I’m gone.”
“I’m not coming with you?” I blink.
“No. I’m still pissed at you.” And with that, he stands, taking the napkin from Phoebe’s hand and walking away.
“He’s moody,” Phoebe observes.
“He doesn’t like the city,” I explain.
“Anything to do with that story you weren’t supposed to tell me about?”
“Everything to do with it.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin and stand. “Want ice cream?”
“Sure.” Phoebe smiles and retrieves her jacket. “A professional ice cream,” she clarifies.
“Can it be professional with a dash of friendly?” Phoebe throws her head back in laughter at my question, her curls bouncing over her back.
“I can manage a dash of friendly, yes,” she affirms, and my heart does a flip.
It’s a baby step, but it feels like a giant leap.
A dash of friendly. I can do that. Just a dash of friendly, I convince myself, opening the door and ignoring how all my senses jump to attention when she brushes past me, the faint scent of coconut wafting to my nose.
I can do just friends with Phoebe Jenkins.
Chapter Seven
Phoebe
“Welcome back, sugar!” Leanne throws her arms around me in a tight embrace when I walk into the office Monday morning. “How’d the weekend go over?”
“Surprisingly well.” I pull my shoulders and signal Leanne to follow me to my office.
“So, give me all the dirty details,” Leanne instructs once the door is closed and she’s comfortably seated on one of the guest chairs.
“There are none, I worked the entire weekend,” I reply, pulling a notebook out of my handbag and handing it to her. “Andy hovered around in silence ninety-nine percent of the time while Gabe and I scanned every corner of the inn and every letter in the ledgers.”
“How’d the reunion with the mother go?”
“It didn’t. She conveniently took a vacation from the day before our arrival until the day after.” I frown. “Seriously, the most exciting part was the inn itself. It’s so beautiful, Leanne. It has this rustic, homey feel to it that just makes you want to huddle in a fluffy blanket in front of the fireplace with a book.”
“Tell me more,” Leanne urges with a broad smile.
“The inn itself is all exposed red brick on the exterior with these beautiful vines climbing up the walls. It needs a major upgrade on the inside. The whole of the furniture and flooring need to be tossed out, and some walls need to be taken down or fortified, but the outdated interior design doesn’t take away from the appeal. The place just has this amazing vibe.” The more I talk about the inn, the more a sense of joy and freedom take over me. “And the garden, Leanne, the vegetable patch, and citrus trees, so much greenery and life.”
“Sounds amazing.” Leanne starts going over my notes with a glint in her eyes.
“Really?” I scoff. “When I tried telling the girls all this stuff at happy hour, Zoe got this far off look, and Trista kept nodding off.”
“I was a business major in college, was even going to buy an old lot down by my parents' ranch and open a riding resort,” Leanne explains absentmindedly, taking a red pen from my desk and scribbling something down on my notes. “That was until Torrance decided he wanted to move to the city and took me away from my family and everything I ever dreamed about, the cheating bastard.”
“Why didn’t you go back after the divorce?” I wonder.
“Didn’t have anything to go back to.” Leanne lifts her eyes, gazing at me with sadness. “Daddy passed, and Momma had to sell the ranch. She lived here with us for a while, but then she started getting forgetful. I had to put her in a home a couple of years back, and I used all the money left from selling the ranch to make sure she got the best care possible. Except for what she insisted I deposit into Bodie’s college fund, that is.”
“When did she pass?”
“A few months before I started working here. The day before it happened, Bodie and I went to visit her, and she was so lucid, she knew who we were and asked us all the right questions.”
“I’m sorry, cookie.” I grab her hand.
“It’s all right. I gave her everything I had to give, and she died happy, with humanity and dignity.” Leanne squeezes my hand. “Do you mind if I take this? I’ll type it up and make some spreadsheets you can show Mr. Hirsch and Mr. Zane.”
“Sounds perfect.” I smile.
“By the way, did you ever figure out what the story with Gabriel is?” Leanne’s dark green eyes twinkle with amusement when she mentions Gabe. “I still feel bad for the poor man.”
“No idea.” I pull my shoulders. “And he’s so different from the guy you described. He’s confident and articulate… He was kind of wound up, but I think that’s because Andy’s being extra intense with me around. I’d dare say Gabe could be laid back on normal occasions.”
“Now that guy I would have liked to meet,” Leanne muses with a chorus. “What about you and Andrew?”
“Nothing. We’re on professional-with-a-dash-of-friendly terms,” I maintain with more conviction than I feel.
Fake it ‘till you make it, Jenkins.
“That’s the biggest load of crap I have ever heard in my life,” Leanne declares and stands in defiance. “He came back with you to New York, didn’t he?”
“He did,” I affirm.
“Why?”
“I… I don’t know,” I admit, slumping back in my chair.
“Do you want to find out?” Leanne cocks her head to the side, waiting patiently while I mull over her question.
“I guess I’m a bit curious, yeah.” I sit up. “We’re going to work together, I need to know he can maintain his boundaries, right?”
“Sure, that seems a solid enough reason.” Leanne purses her lips in thought. “You should invite him over for dinner.”
“Wait, what?”
“Cook him his favorite dish, get him drunk, make him tell you all his secrets,” she continues.
“No!” I chide her, the thought of Andy being in my house sending panic through me. “And even if I was on board with that devious plan, Andy doesn’t drink.” The words to the song he told me about that night echo through my head, tears springing to my eyes when I think about Andy feeling that desperate and alone. An entire weekend of listening to it on loop, and I still can’t think about it without wanting to cry.