Page 34 of Without Apology

“Yeah. Okay.” Sarcasm dripped on each word. He’d been adamant any relationship outside of the working boundaries was impossible.

“He’d kill me if he knew I was talking about it, but he really does care.”

“He said that?” I wasn’t playing it cool at all. Instead, I wanted more information.

“No. But he wouldn’t. I’ve known him long enough, however, and this is different.”

It felt as though I was back in eighth grade finding out a boy might like me. It was disappointing I was so easily excited to discover a shred of hope. But since she was sharing, I had to ask. “Does he ever apologize?”

“No. Not to me, not to anyone. He has a hard time with it.”

“Why?”

“You should ask him, but please understand it’s nothing personal.”

It sure as hell felt personal. “I think perhaps you’re wrong about what you think you’re seeing regarding Simon’s feelings toward me. He isn’t used to having things disrupted. That’s all I am. Simply a momentary blip in the plan.”

She contemplated before responding. “What if I told you he’s been uncharacteristically distracted on this job? More than I’ve ever seen. And on the few occasions—and I do mean few—where I’ve known him to send flowers, he’s always had me do it as an afterthought or with me prompting. But with you, he asked what color he should send and insisted on ordering them himself.”

“That was before.”

“The flowers, yes, the distraction, no.”

“Maybe that’s all it is, then. A distraction.”

She pursed her lips. “He doesn’t do distractions. It’s more.”

I wanted to believe her, which annoyed me to no end. It felt as if I was on a roller coaster I couldn’t get off, ready for my next rush of adrenaline. “Why are you telling me this?”

For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know exactly. Maybe because I hate seeing him miserable. Maybe because I knew I liked you the moment you told Tom off.”

And now I liked her better for appreciating that I had. “I can’t imagine having to work with that guy all of the time.”

She didn’t bother to hide her cringe. “I won’t lie. I hate it. Then again, you have Jeff, who seems to be a twat, too.”

Didn’t need a translation for that. “He really is.”

We clinked our glasses together in girl solidarity. Then she glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “Right on time.”

“What is?” I turned my head to see Simon walking straight for us. He seemed as shocked to see me as I was to see him.

His gaze flicked from me to her before settling on me. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Why was one word from this man ratcheting up my nerves? Perhaps it was because, despite the long day and still wearing the same suit, he looked devastatingly handsome.

“Here, Simon, take my chair. I’m calling it a night. Thanks for agreeing to drinks with me, Peyton. I’ll see you in the office on Monday.”

Wait. What?

His lips twitched as his assistant vacated her seat and set down money on the bar for the bartender.

“Why do I feel like this was a setup?” I quipped as Simon took her chair.

He flashed me his phone, showing the text from her.

“Meet me in the bar. Something you need to see.”

“Probably because it was.”

---