Page 21 of Without Regret

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Emma

When I first walked in and discovered Trevor was here already at the office, I thought he might be playing some sort of game. I was apprehensive it was another angle to try to get to spend time with me alone. That idea went out the window, however, when he didn’t bother to engage me all morning. Then, once I went into his office around lunch, there was no doubt he was fully immersed in his work. In fact, his hair was all messed up from putting his hands through it while he reviewed whatever it was he’d been reading most of the morning.

So, come lunch time I took pity when he didn’t come out of his office. I told myself it was only a professional courtesy, the same thing I’d do for Simon, but the truth was I wondered what he’d been up to.

He surprised me by telling me about the company he was working on. Often Simon would bounce ideas off of me, but I’d wondered if Trevor would see me as simply an assistant to make his copies and get him coffee. I was pleased that he was treating me as a member of the team.

After picking up food from a sub place a couple miles away, I came back to the office and saw his phone light was on. I went in with his lunch anyhow. And, yes. Maybe I listened to a little of his conversation. Because despite the warning bells telling me not to become friends with him, I felt drawn.

“Sure, Dad. I get it. Okay, then. Talk to you later.”

He hung up and fixed his gaze on me as I was about to back out of the room. Then, smiling, he picked up the bag. “Thanks for this. What do I owe you?”

Huh. Simon was the only one who ever asked me that. Every other rich guy assumed I’d bill it to the firm, or who knows what they thought? They certainly weren’t ever concerned about paying me back.

“My treat,” I said hastily, wanting to leave all of a sudden.

“Wait. Did you get lunch, too?”

“A wrap. Why?”

I got the impression he’d been about to invite me to eat with him. “Nothing. Have a good lunch.”

I intended to stay quiet and turn around in order eat at my desk alone. But he had a certain puppy-dog sincerity, as if he simply wanted company. I was also very curious about how things were going with his presentation, so I said, “I could eat in here with you if you want.”

It wasn’t like I didn’t eat lunch plenty of times with Simon. That was what you did with coworkers. And despite telling myself I didn’t want a friendship with him, I did wish to know more about him. I reasoned it was because we’d be traveling and working together. I ignored the inner voice calling me a liar.

“If you want.” He seemed unsure, which was my fault. I needed to clear the air.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He was halfway through his sandwich, obviously starving, when I returned with my wrap. He grinned sheepishly after swallowing. “Sorry. Guess I was hungry.”

Bloody adorable. And the warning bells were back. “Guess you were. Look, did you mean what you said the other day about being okay with a friendship?” I was acting a bit like a bull in a china shop because I wanted to get this conversation out of the way.

He stopped mid-chew and then proceeded, holding up a finger until he took a drink of his water, so he could swallow before speaking. “Yes, definitely okay with friendship. And I apologize if I came on too strong in the beginning.”

His agreement didn’t give me the relief I’d thought it would. “I take a while to warm up to people. But if the offer for friendship is there, then I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Might make things easier in working together.”

I’d thought he might be disappointed since most men I knew didn’t like having their ego checked. But he only grinned. “Good. As with any relationship, whether it’s professional or not, we’ll go slow. Trust takes time to build up, and I’m the new guy coming in after years of you and Simon alone together.”

Truer words couldn’t have been spoken. I did have a tough time with trust. “Good. Glad that’s settled. How’s it going so far with fantasy sports? Is it a yea or nay for the investment?” I was surprised he wasn’t more into this transaction. He had jock written all over him with his athletic build.

“Straight to the verdict, huh?”

“Sort of cuts through the bullshit.”

He laughed. “True, but I have seven pages of analysis. Not that it matters because I can’t seem to get the damn thing to print.”

“I can certainly help with that. Email it to me, and I’ll print it.”

He looked skeptical.

“What? I won’t look at it if it’s confidential. Although you probably shouldn’t have told me because now I’ll have to sneak a peek.”

He chuckled. I found myself enjoying the way he did so, as though he couldn’t help himself. “I hesitated because I didn’t want to bother you with it. You work for Simon, not me.”

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