Page 47 of Let Me Say It Again

Maria:Where are you, by the way? I walked to your office, and you’re not there.

Jade:Blame Red.

Bianca:You have a blaming problem. Is nothing your fault?

Jade:Not really, no.

Jade:I’m waiting for his chauffeur to pick me up and take me to some ridiculously expensive store so we can go shopping.

Bianca:I’m sorry. And you didn’t invite us? Rude.

Allegra:Call Knox if you want attention.

Bianca:Bite me, Allie. Jade, you’re so lucky.

Maria:It’s not Rodeo Drive.

Allegra:Oooh! Dom kisses that mouth?

Jade:Alistair just pulled up. I really have to go now. Bye.

I shoved my phone in my purse and walked to the back of the car. Alistair promptly got out, startling me as he practically rushed to my side to open my door. Naturally, his rushed walking was much more poised and sophisticated—you could describe walking as that, right?—than if I were to do it. “You already have more manners than most of the men I’ve been out with,” I told him as I nodded and slid into the car. Only, I tried to be as graceful as a swan, and it went all wrong.

I didn’t judge right and hit my head on the roof.

The back of my heel (Maria had insisted I start wearing the torture devices to work) got caught on the step, and it fell off my foot and onto the ground outside.

“How is it that you can’t get in a car?” Red asked, startling me and making me jump, so I basically flopped sideways onto the seat.

He looked like the ultimate businessman in a blue suit that brought out the color of his eyes. Damn him for always looking delicious.

I could come back from the head bump and the flop, right? Who was I kidding? Of course I could. I was Jade Logan. Probably didn’t mean much, but it sounded a lot cooler and a ton more inspirational in my head. Just go with it.

I cleared my throat and took my heel from Alistair, since he was holding it out for me. “Thank you, Alistair. I feel like a princess. You’re a special man.”

Red rubbed his forehead. “Oh, man,” he mumbled. “Alistair, we have an appointment. At this rate, we’re never going to make it.”

Alistair gave him a curt nod and closed the door.

I clacked my tongue on the roof of my mouth and swatted his arm. “Be nice to him. He works very hard.”

“How do you know that?”

“The way he opened the door for me and passed me my shoe?” I exhaled. “That’s a man who was raised right by his mother.” Some people might even call him husband material. Not me, but other people.

“Alistair was a foster kid. So, sorry to say this, but you’re wrong. What that is can only be attributed to a paycheck that’s nearly triple what you were making when you worked for me.”

I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it to one side and getting comfortable in my seat now that I had both shoes on and the pounding in my head had subsided. Speaking of. . . I gently rubbed my head. “Is it true what they say that if you don’t rub it, it’ll leave a bruise?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know. Your hair will cover it anyway.”

“Nice.” I rolled my eyes and brought my attention to Alistair. “Alistair, what do you say we bring you back a sandwich, hmm? What do you like?”

Red pinched the bridge of his nose. “He can get his own lunch.”

“Lunch is on Red today,” I further told Alistair. “Anything you want. Just name it.”

A grin crossed Alistair’s face, but it was gone seconds later. “Thank you, but the wife packs me lunch. Today is roast beef.”

---