“Ah, the brains. That makes sense. Let me guess, you guys got in a lot of trouble?”
I shake my head. “No, we just had fun. Too much fun, but never got into trouble.” I lean back in my chair and stare at the crowd, unable to look Charlee in the eye when I talk about my personal life. Her reactions are so potent I get caught up in them. “We have a fantasy football league. Every year we make a bet, a big one, not monetary, but dares. Bram lost last year and that was the beginning of his pursuit of my sister. He says he lost on purpose, but we don’t entirely believe him.”
Then again, no one benches Russell Wilson on purpose.
“Really? That’s actually really sweet. So, what’s the bet this year?”
I shrug. “Don’t know yet, probably something stupid that we’ll come up with and regret later. We always do, but we sign contracts so we have to adhere to the bet.”
“That’s”—she laughs—“really intense, but I guess I wouldn’t expect anything else from you and Mr. Scott. I’m unfamiliar with Mr. McCool but I will say this, his Irish accent is quite lovely to listen to on the phone.”
“It’s worse when he’s drunk. You can’t understand a thing he says.”
“And he’s dating one of his client’s daughters, right?”
I nod. “Yup.”
“So, you’re the single one out of the threesome. Unless— Oh, that was a horrible assumption. I just figured you were single since I haven’t heard you making time for a girlfriend or anything. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Single,” I say, not wanting her to ramble on any longer. “Easier that way.”
“Tell me about it. Single is so much easier than having your heart broken.” She nervously laughs and looks away as my gut churns.
Heartbroken?
Did someone break her heart? I couldn’t imagine someone coming into her life, receiving her heart, and intentionally tearing it in two. Then again, there are horrible people out there in the world.
I glance at her, taking in the small slump in her demeanor, the way she’s looking at her hands rather than at me. There’s something she’s not telling me. Not that she has to since it’s her personal life, but oddly, I want to know about it. After a week of being bombarded with hellos, of being proven wrong every afternoon with a completed list, with being fed like a goddamn king, I want to know what makes this woman tick.
“What—”
“Oh look, there’s Mr. Flanderson. You wanted to speak with him and he seems to have lost his crowd. We should go.”
She stands, and I watch as she straps on a figurative shield of armor, showing me right then and there that talking about her love life is not going to happen.
That’s fine—I guess—because I’m sure if she shared about hers, she’d ask about mine and my personal life is the last thing I want to talk about.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Good eye.” I stand and button my suit jacket. “Let’s go.”
And just like that, we’re back to boss man and assistant. And that’s how it will stay.
“Thank you so much,” Charlee says, biting into a veggie burger and then stuffing a fry in her mouth. “I needed food. Those appetizers barely did anything.”
I take a bite of my own burger and dab my face with my napkin, observing her. Her lipstick has faded, her hair has fallen slightly, and there’s a subtle glow on her face that women often cover with powder. It’s a two in the morning look that I’ve seen on many women, but Charlee wears it well. She still looks radiant. It must be her personality and the way she carries herself.
“What a great event, right?” she asks. “I really think we made some groundwork, some beneficial networking. People want to know more about your foundation, which is amazing, and Mr. Flanderson seemed to be quite impressed with you.”
“He did, didn’t he?” I ask, popping a fry in my mouth. “He is a good man, one of few.”
“I really enjoyed speaking with his wife. She was wonderful and I know you wanted me to stay silent, but she was asking me questions, so I thought it would be rude not to answer.”
“No, you handled the situation well. Thank you for talking to her.”
Charlee’s face blushes. “Is that a compliment, Mr. Westin?”
“Rath,” I say. “Just call me Rath.”
Her eyes widen and then she starts to fan herself while looking around the empty dining area. Here we go . . .
“Be still my heart, did I just earn first-name privileges? First-name privileges and a compliment . . . my diary won’t know what to do with herself tonight.”
“Are you always this . . . flamboyant?”
“Yes, get used to it.” She winks. “Gosh, what a great trip, and here I thought going to Miami was going to throw off my weekend. But it’s like we took a giant step forward and we’ll still be home by nine, right?”
I nod. “Yes, we will. We have to wake up in a few hours to make it happen.”
“We should have left straight after the event.”
“Pilot wasn’t available, or else we would have.”
“You’re rich. Throw money at people to make it happen.”
I shake my head. “I don’t work that way. I respect people’s schedules. Technically we were supposed to go golfing with Mr. Flanderson and associates tomorrow, or I guess today since it’s two in the morning, but I respectfully declined because you need to get home.” I take a sip of my water.
“Wait.” She sets her food down. “You changed your schedule for me?”
“I’m not the bastard you think I am, Charlee.”
“I never thought you were a bastard, Mr. Westin. Um . . . Rath. I just . . . I guess I don’t know what I thought.”
I toss my napkin on my food and stand from my chair. It makes sense that she thinks I’m a bastard. I haven’t made her first week easy. And yet, she has been incredible today. Her ability to predict my every need has been uncanny, as if we’ve worked together for years. Even though I’ve been . . . I’ve been me. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not nice. That’s how it will stay. You were excellent today. I’ll see you in a few hours. Don’t be late.”
I give her a parting nod and head to my room, pulling on the back of my neck the whole time.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Why did I tell her that? Why couldn’t you stay aloof? Impenetrable?
Maybe because I don’t want someone like Charlee to think I’m an asshole. I want her to think I’m a nice man.
Maybe because I want her to not hate coming to work. Because then she’ll hate me.
Maybe because deep down, I want her to see the real me.
Except last time I did that—with Vanessa—I watched my heart be taken as she left.
Chapter Ten
CHARLEE
The only thing that’s sustaining me right now is the gum cleansing toothpaste I brought with me that has awoken my mouth, and the gift I slipped into Rath’s briefcase this morning when he wasn’t looking.