knew that.
But after seeing Weston around so often during my first two weeks at Andes, I supposed I had developed false expectations. This week was a different story. I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him in the elevator.
That was why I smiled so big when I arrived at my desk on Thursday and a Post-it was waiting for me.
Alfred Hitchcock was frightened of eggs.
I sputtered a laugh. Now that I knew these were from Weston, though he hadn’t admitted it explicitly, I looked forward to receiving them. He’d left me one each day this week, each with a random fact that had nothing to do with elephants.
Miles strolled by, whistling softly. He stopped in front of me, rapping his knuckles on my desk. “What’s that little smile about?”
I crinkled my nose. I’d forgiven him, sure, but we weren’t friends. I wasn’t certain I even wanted to be friends with him.
“Nothing.” I tried to hide the Post-it under my hands, but he spotted it.
His brow lifted. “I didn’t leave that one.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Who did?”
I shrugged. I was working on regaining my ability to trust people but really doubted I’d ever trust Miles Aldrich. If I did, it would certainly take more than a few days to happen.
He clutched his heart. “I’m wounded you’re keeping secrets from me, Lisie.”
“Maybe I don’t know who left them. They are anonymous.”
He staggered back, drama king that he was. “You’re killing me here. I feel the pain from your withholding deep in my bones.”
“I hope you’re not hanging around for an apology.”
“I’m not.” He straightened his tie. It was a skinny one, straight from the nineteen-sixties. “How are you settling in?”
“I like Andes very much.”
He grinned, twinkling his eyes at me. “My brother gave me the third degree about what we were talking about in the stairwell. I told him I didn’t even realize this building had stairs.”
Despite myself, I sputtered a laugh. “Did he take that well?”
“He did not, which made it even more fun.”
I found myself grinning back. “Call me crazy, but I think he watched the security feed. He’s that nosy.”
“A control freak is what he is. That’s why he’s always working on different floors, keeping watch over everyone. Does Elliot hang out with his employees?”
My eyes bulged at the preposterous idea. “I can’t imagine that he does. That doesn’t mean he’s not just as much of a control freak as Weston. He just doesn’t care about his employees’ personal lives. They could be banging in the stairwell and Elliot wouldn’t blink as long as they were doing their jobs.”
Miles shook his head, murmuring, “Banging in the stairwell…” Then he perched his butt on the edge of my desk. “I suppose Westie isn’t a complete carbon copy of Elliot after all. I’m shocked.”
I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair. “Did you think they were?”
He rolled his eyes. “Weston has been obsessed with the Levy family since the moment he met Elliot. He’s always wanted to be like him. I was honestly astounded they didn’t go into business together.”
“Or do you think it’s possible they were always similar and that’s why they became such good friends?”
“Sure, anything’s possible.” He scrubbed his scruffy jaw. “Did Weston ask you about the stairwell?”
I nodded. “He did. I saw him over the weekend when I was out to brunch with Elliot. I didn’t give him a straight answer because it wasn’t really his business.”
He clicked his fingers. “That’s why he accosted me first thing Monday morning. Nosy bastard.”
I moved my mouse around to turn on my computer screen. As Miles and I had been talking, other employees had filled up the surrounding desks, starting their workday. Miles seemed to be in no hurry to leave, but I had a list of tasks a mile long.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I asked as sweetly as I could.
He grinned at me and ignored my question. “We should have been friends back in the day. I always liked you. I should have tried harder to make you like me.” Shrugging, he hopped up. “Good thing I have a second chance to lure you into a lifetime of friendship. How am I doing so far?”
“Subpar.”
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “Well, don’t worry, Lisie. I’m in it for the long haul.”
Then he wandered away, whistling as he went.
I worked without a break until my stomach started to growl. My eye caught on the yellow sticky note still sitting on my desk, then my thoughts drifted to Weston’s lunch invitation during my first week.
If he could invite me to lunch, I could invite him.
I picked up the phone and dialed his assistant. I didn’t have his direct phone number and we weren’t quite in the place to text each other. At least, I didn’t think so.
“Weston Aldrich’s office. This is Renata, how can I help you?”
I cleared my throat. “Hi, Renata. This is Elise Levy. I work on seven. Anyway, I’m calling to see if Weston would like to join me for lunch today.”
A long pause.
So long, I thought she hung up.
Finally, she spoke. “He’s incredibly busy this week.”
“Doesn’t he have to eat?”
“Well…”
“Can you ask him? I can grab something for him and bring it up there if that’s easier.”
She sighed. “Hold on, Elise. I’ll check.” She didn’t sound too optimistic.
I clicked around on my computer while I waited. It didn’t take long for her to come back.
“Elise?”
“Yes. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry, but Weston isn’t open for lunch this week.”
“Oh.” My stomach dropped with disappointment. “Did you tell him it was me?”
“I did. The answer is the same. Mr. Aldrich doesn’t normally take a formal lunch break. If you have something you’d like to speak with him about, I suggest email.”
The sting of rejection smarted. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”
I hung up, embarrassed for thinking I could just call up the CEO and invite him to lunch. Weston obviously didn’t see me as anything other than an employee and his friend’s sister. I didn’t know why I’d thought anything had changed.
The workweek that never ended finally did. Simon, Rebecca, and I were out for drinks with Saoirse, whose office was nearby. This week it was, anyway. She was a temp for now, not ready to settle down and choose one job.
Rebecca glanced around the bar brimming with office workers looking to put a cap on their week.
“There are some tasty men here tonight,” she remarked.
Saoirse giggled. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you married?”
Rebecca arched a brow. “Married, not dead. It’s not like Sam doesn’t check out tits and asses on a regular basis. I’d be worried if he didn’t. He’s good at doing it subtly when I’m around, just as I eye up all the suit porn in my proximity.”
“It’s a shame they’re all chronically straight.” Simon leaned forward in his club chair to pick up his drink from the small round table in the center of our group.
Rebecca elbowed him. “We can be wingwomen tonight. Let’s find boys for Saoirse and Lise.”
I held up my hands. “I don’t want a boy. I’m still mangled from the last one.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes as if I was saying stupid things. “Obviously, the next one will be purely physical while you unmangle your poor heart. No need to wear out your batteries while you’re healing.”
Saoirse nodded. “There is an awful lot of buzzing coming from your room at all hours. It’s distracting if you must know.”
A surprised laugh burst out of me. “Oh, shut up. That isn’t true and you know it.”
She shrugged, her eyes darting to the side. “I’m not judging. I’m just saying, the real thing might be more satisfying than silicone.”
As the three of them plotted to find me a real-life man to get the job done, a group of suited men entering the bar distracted me. Weston was surrounded by some of the suits who’d been visiting Andes headquarters this week. As he took a seat, his eyes flicked up, searching. They landed on me and flared.
I nodded. He nodded back, his full lips tipping into a small smile. I took a long pull from my drink, attempting to pay attention to my friends, not Weston Aldrich. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, anyway. The men had pulled him into conversation.
Rebecca leaned into me, tipping her drink toward a group of men standing together at the bar. “What about that one? He keeps looking over here.”
I glanced that way. “Which one?”
“The tallest one, with the beard. He’s cute.”
Saoirse twisted around to check out the guys, not even trying to be subtle about it. “Oooh, yes. He’s a little bit ginger, Lisie. Have you had a ginger before?” She turned back in her seat, her pretty face alight with excitement.
“You know every guy I’ve been with,” I reminded her.
She nodded. “True. No gingers in the bunch.”
Simon angled toward her. “How big of a bunch are we talking here?”
I pointed at Saoirse. “If you tell him my number, I’ll cut off your hair in your sleep.”
She grabbed the end of her blonde ponytail protectively. “Wow, living in Chicago made you ruthless. I wasn’t going to tell him about the seventeen guys you’ve slept with.”
Simon’s jaw went slack. “Seventeen? And that was all before you got with the douchelord. By the age of twenty-two, you’d had seventeen? Why you little hussy!”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s pulling your leg. My number’s nowhere near that. It takes me much too long to be comfortable enough with a man to get naked in front of him to have that many notches.”
“Damn,” Rebecca cursed. “I was about to high-five you.”
Saoirse waved them off. “Let’s get back to the cute ginger at the bar. Is he looking this way?”
I lifted my eyes and was met with a friendly gaze and a soft smile. The ginger businessman was watching me. Feeling brazen for no particular reason, I lifted my drink to him, and his smile widened.
Then I realized I had no idea what to do next and had no game at all.
“Oh my god, he’s staring hard at you,” Simon cooed. “Get it, girl.”
“I have no clue how to get it. I’ve been out of the flirting game for too long.” I kept my eyes down so I didn’t accidentally clash with the ginger again.
Rebecca plucked my drink from my hand, tipped it back, and swallowed it down before handing me my empty glass.
“Oh dear, you need a new drink. Our waitress is dismally slow. You should probably go to the bar and order one before you get too thirsty.”
I stared at her, blinking slowly. “You’re maniacal.”
“That’s what Sam says.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulders. “That’s why he loves me so. Now, get to the bar and let ginger make his move.”
Nerves were tossing the contents of my stomach around in wild waves. But I told myself all I was doing was walking to the bar. If this man was actually attracted to me and interested in knowing me, he could come talk to me. Otherwise, I was just buying myself a new drink. No harm, no foul.
Of course, I nearly stumbled on my way there. I righted myself, finding Weston looking at me again. Biting down on my bottom lip, I carried on my mission, finding an empty spot at the bar.
The bartender took my order, and I waited, butterflies committing violence in my stomach. They had to be swashbuckling in there. There was no other explanation.
“Hello.”
I looked at the man who’d stepped up beside me. Tall was my first thought. Lovely beard was my second.
“Hi. Your beard is lovely.” Oh Jesus. Who’d allowed me to speak?
He grinned. “Thank you. You’re lovely overall.”
I couldn’t hold back a smile. “Thank you.” I held my hand out, confidence blooming. “I’m Elise.”
“Thomas. Can I buy your drink?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’d like to. That way, when I ask for your number, you feel obligated to throw me a bone.”
He took me off guard, making me laugh. “That is quite the plan. And since you’re being so honest, I may feel obligated to give it to you.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, the usual getting-to-know-you things. When he took his phone out, I happily gave him my number. Aside from his height, there was nothing intimidating about Thomas. He seemed nice and wasn’t overly handsome or buff, which for me, was a plus. In fact, he was a little soft around the middle, which I found attractive on him.
I wasn’t in any way ready for something serious, but if Thomas contacted me, I would go on a date with him. He had a really great beard and a charming smile. Deeper qualifications weren’t required.
We parted, and I started to go back to my group when the hair on the back of my neck rose. I turned my head, finding Weston glaring at the men, his jaw clenched. Poor guy. He couldn’t even have a relaxing evening out. Though I wondered if he ever truly relaxed.
Probably not.
When I sat back down with my friends, they played it cool, but I could tell they were bursting with giddiness for me. Rebecca made a few fire engine jokes, and Simon told us about the one redhead he’d dated. Saoirse grabbed my hand and gave it a hard squeeze. More than anyone, she knew what a big deal it was for me to open myself up to possibly moving on.
We were all a little bit tipsy when we left the bar. Rebecca had big plans of going home and seducing Sam. Simon’s night was just getting started. He was meeting his real-life friends. Work wasn’t real life, and I wasn’t even a little insulted. Saoirse and I waited by the curb for our Uber.
Behind us, bar noises grew louder as someone exited. Boisterous voices carried loudly through the night. Saoirse and I huddled closer.
“Elise.” A bark so commanding, both Saoirse and I immediately twisted around to see the source. Weston had parted from his group and was striding toward us. “I’ll drive you home.”
Saoirse’s hand tightened on my waist. I shook my head just as a car pulled up in front of us.
“No thank you. Our Uber is here.” My gaze lingered on his. He seemed angry. His week had probably felt much, much longer than mine. “Have a good weekend, Weston.”
His head dipped, and he stayed planted there on the sidewalk as we climbed into the back of our ride. I waved as we drove away.
Saoirse let out a whoosh. “That man is so frigging intense.”
I giggled. “I know, right? He’s always been that way.”
“Hot, though.”
“Yeah.” He’d always been that way too, even as a lanky teen.
“Let’s talk about Thomas.” She took my hand, wrapping both of hers around it. “How did it feel to be hit on by a cute guy?”
“It felt…like maybe Patrick’s opinion of me isn’t the end all be all.”
Her face went soft. She pressed my hand to her cheek. “It isn’t. Remember how sexy you felt in Aruba? That’s what matters. Patrick couldn’t handle you feeling yourself that way. He was a small man with a small mind and a small prick.”
I snorted a laugh. “Unfortunately, his prick isn’t small.”
She snapped her fingers. “Drats. Well, I hope he and his big dick are enjoying all the time they’re spending with his right hand. He’s never going to find a woman sexier, funnier, or more wonderful than you. And I am one-hundred-percent certain he knows that and it’s killing him.”
“I don’t know if that’s true, but honestly? I don’t really want to think about him anymore.”
“You’re right.”
My phone lit up in my lap. I had a new text. Saoirse and I both read the screen.
“Thomas,” she whispered.
Hi, Elise. Sorry I’m not playing it cool, but I really enjoyed meeting you and would love to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Are you available?
I gasped. Saoirse squealed.
I was going on a date. With a man.
Holy frigging crap.
