Page 169 of Unspoken Rules

I’m starving by the time I get back to my apartment and get food delivered, which I devour. I also shoot Westley a text to let him know I’m home but beat and will be in the office tomorrow. He texts me back almost immediately, letting me know we can head to work together in the morning.

Since I’m still not tired, I unpack all my stuff and take a shower. I get into bed and play around on my phone for a bit. Realizing I forgot to text Chris and Mila that I landed, I do that now. They’d both told me to do so, and I should have the moment we dropped down, but I was in a daze. I’ll probably be up all night from how heavily I slept on that plane.

Neither of them answers me. Chris has been going to sleep pretty early, and that’s what Mila typically does anyway.

Around two, I put my phone to charge and roll over to sleep. Even though I hadn’t felt tired, I fall asleep almost right away.

Chapter Seventy-One

Bryson

Three months later…

I fall into the empty seat across from Westley in the lunchroom and drop my head to the table.

“Rough day?” he asks, reaching for his can of soda.

I groan, lifting my head.

“I really wish clients wouldn’t hire us and then tell us how to do our jobs. Don’t they realize it’s why they’re hiring us in the first place?”

He shrugs. “May as well let them do both. If they’re going to pay you and do your job, that’s like free money.”

I glare. “You’re joking.”

He scoffs. “Of course I’m joking.”

I blow out a breath. “Good, because I was getting worried.”

“Come on. Me? Who is picky as all hell?”

I grin and open my lunch bag to pull out my salad and yogurt.

“You eat like a bird,” Westley adds, picking up his cheeseburger.

“What’s wrong with birds?”

“They’re… birdy.”

I choke out a laugh, shaking my head.

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not.”

His response is to grin.

His phone buzzes, and he picks it up, smiling at whatever he sees. Since he’s occupied, I focus on eating my food and space out for a bit. I need to stop dealing with terrible clients before lunch; I swear it gives me indigestion.

“You coming out with us tomorrow?” Westley asks after a few moments of silence.

I shrug a shoulder. “Probably. Unless I have an aneurysm by then.”

“Why in the hell do you say shit like that?” Westley crumples his cheeseburger wrapper and stuffs it inside the fry cup.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say about me?” I question.

He looks me up and down. “Nice tie?”

I roll my eyes. “That isn’t even about me. It’s my clothes.”

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