Page 15 of Dropping Like Flies

There was a slight hesitation, long enough for me to think Asher might argue, but then the next voice was Cade’s. “Speaking.”

“It’s me. Apparently, you’re busy.”

“I was.” So diplomatic. Cade wouldn’t hear a word said against his PA. Well, he’d hear it, but he wouldn’t agree to it. It was a peculiar relationship. One that even as a long-term friend of Cade’s, I didn’t understand. “What happened today?” he asked.

The conversation was a long one, continuing way after the point I’d reached home as I detailed everything that had occurred that afternoon, and tore an absolute strip off Cade for being so adamant that my path wouldn’t cross with Ben’s, only to discover he was who I’d been partnered with.

Cade took it well, letting me call him every name under the sun until I felt better. “I’ll get someone else,” he finally offered as I switched the kettle on and watched it boil.

I pulled a mug out of the cupboard, but aborted spooning coffee into it at the last moment in favor of opening a fresh bottle of whiskey. I didn’t bother with a glass, drinking straight from the bottle. “No need,” I said as the alcohol blazed a path down my throat. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” There was shock in Cade’s voice. “I can—”

“I said I’ll do it.” My phone beeped, and I was glad of an excuse to end the call. “Someone else is trying to get through. I’ll keep you updated and let you know when I’ll be back at work.”

I took another swallow of whiskey before switching the call, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Griffin?”

Flynn. We hadn’t spoken since I’d ditched him at the club. “That’s me.”

“I just wanted to say I was sorry. Whatever I did, whatever I said, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Apology accepted.”

“So we’re still friends?”

“Sure.” Why not? It wasn’t like I had them coming out of the woodwork. With the exception of Cade, and that was mainly because he was my boss, I’d pushed them all away three years ago. Some of them, to their credit, had made attempts at rekindling the relationship, but I’d been a tough nut to crack.

“Come to the bar tonight?”

Five simple words when taken at face value, but there was nothing simple about the way Flynn had said them, flirtation and promise bleeding into them. Friends with benefits. Right. “Not tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

“All the more reason to talk to someone about it rather than stay home alone.”

“Not tonight,” I repeated. Flynn and I wouldn’t stay friends long if he got pushy.

“Okay. Well… take care of yourself, and you know where I am if you change your mind.”

I did, flirting up a storm behind the bar of Purple Paradise. How many friends with benefits did he have?

After hanging up, I made it as far as my sofa with the bottle of whiskey before it rang again. For fuck’s sake! Why, when I was the world’s most unpleasant person to talk to, did everyone still want to talk to me? “Griffin Caldwell,” I said, irritation leaching into my words.

“It’s me,” said the quiet but immediately recognizable voice. I sat bolt upright. “Don’t tell me there’s been another one already?”

“No,” Ben said, “there hasn’t.” I collapsed back against the cushions. “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me you’d jump to that conclusion. I just wanted you to know that I unblocked you. Well, obviously I did or I wouldn’t be talking to you. I thought I’d better check it worked. Which it has, so I’m going to go now. Enjoy your whiskey.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why say it?”

“Not all words are weapons,” Ben said with a sigh. “Sometimes it’s just making conversation.”

Don’t, hovered on my tongue. I congratulated myself for having enormous willpower when I held it back. I’d told him I could work with him, so that’s what I was going to do. We didn’t need to be friends. We didn’t even need to get along. We just needed to stay civil until Satanic Romeo was behind bars where he belonged. My silence earned another sigh, Ben seeming to find this entire conversation incredibly tiresome despite being the one to instigate it.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he finally said. “It would be nice not to wake to the taste of whiskey in my mouth that I haven’t drunk, but I guess that’s too big an ask.”

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