Page 65 of The Confidentiality Clause
He drags his girlfriend away to the bar.
When he’s out of earshot, Ariel throws her arms around me. “Thank you. Just thank you.”
I hug her back and breathe in the soft, sweet scent of her hair. “It wasn’t a big deal. I have to deal with guys like him all the time. That conversation was a dime a dozen.”
She tips her head back. Relief is written all over her expression. “You don’t understand. He’s been tormenting me ever since he overheard me talking to a friend about my dating struggles. Between this and the gala, I can probably buy myself a couple months of peace.”
I frown and brush a strand of hair away from her face. Her deep blue eyes meet mine. It’s as though I’m staring at a clear blue sky after a hundred days of rain.
“That sounds like harassment. Have you complained about it?”
She nods. “I tried, but the new boss loves him.”
“Now I wish I would have punched him.”
She laughs. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. That sounds like the sort of thing you tell your clients not to do.”
“Would be worth it. I haven’t punched anyone in a while. I bet it would feel good.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”
I smile. “And you’re way too intelligent and talented to deal with that kind of thing at work.” She blushes and tips her head down. “Have you thought about going somewhere else? Or maybe starting up your own business?”
“This company is one of the best in Charlotte.” She toys with my tie. “I’ve thought about venturing out on my own, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“I could help you,” I say, and she looks up again.
“You barely have time for your own business.”
I cringe. She has a point. “Marie could help you. She handles most of my paperwork and knows a lot about business.”
An uncomfortable feeling pinches in my chest. For the first time in a while, the idea of work keeping me from doing something doesn’t sit right. But that’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t feel bad for being busy. The words of my friends and family start to swirl around in my head, muddying my thoughts.
“I’ll…think about it.” Ariel’s voice rips me from my spiral.
I nod. “Good, just let me know.”
“I will. And Brock? I really can’t thank you enough.”
I pull her against my chest for another hug and drop an unplanned kiss on the crown of her head.
“Anytime, Duke,” I say into her hair.
She squeezes me tight in response. I pull back before I can’t resist the temptation of more.
“Now, back to the start of your losing streak…”
She rolls her eyes. “That win doesn’t count. Seeing Houston freaked me out.”
I shrug. “Fine by me, there are plenty more losses where that came from.”
We head toward the next game, trash-talking each other the entire way. And if I keep Ariel close the rest of the night, well, it’s easy to blame it on Houston being there.
Chapter twenty-nine
Brock Jones
Ariel should be in her car right now. She should be driving home, probably while listening to some awful pop song about how guys suck. Instead, she’s asleep in my passenger seat. I drive past the restaurant and, consequently, her car parked nearby. I’ll call someone to handle it. Even if I have to hire a tow truck to get it to my place, it’ll be worth it.
