Page 36 of Whiskey Darling
Chapter Fourteen
Allie
“Doyou know you frown in your sleep?”
Flynn’s soft question drags me awake. Opening my eyes, I find him watching me, his head propped in one hand.
I smile, turning more onto my side until I face him. “Do I?”
“I wonder what bothers you so deeply.” His fingers idly trace an invisible pattern on the bare skin of my hip.
“Oh, could be my missing files. Or maybe the fact I just had amazing sex with my boss.”
The grin he flashes almost stops my heart.
“Amazing?” His lips brush mine. “More like incredible. Mind-blowing.”
“All right. All of the above.” I giggle, glad he doesn’t object when I snuggle closer. He smells so good, a mixture of earthy maleness, spicy cologne, and my own scent. It clings to his flesh and mine. “Even so, I must see what’s missing in my files. Hope it’s not lost completely.”
“I’ll help if you like. We’ll have a late lunch then get to it.”
“You left stuff for omelets sitting on the kitchen bar,” I remind him, my cheeks pinkening with the memory of attacking each other with kisses while I sat on that same counter.
“Never mind that. I gave Rose the day off, but we can order something in, or we can run up to a little café I like near here. You decide.”
“Can we order in? I should figure out what happened sooner rather than later. Once I grab some fresh clothes, of course.”
Flynn’s eyes flare with sensual heat. “Okay. But, Allie? Wear some panties this time, will you? Otherwise, we won’t get anything accomplished.”
* * *
The remainsof numerous Pad Thai dishes cover the surface of the coffee table. We just finished eating, and I’m sitting cross-legged on the den floor. My laptop is balanced on my widespread knees.
“I don’t understand where they went,” I mutter, nearly in tears,
From his place on the couch behind me, Flynn leans over, peering at the computer screen. “Are you sure you searched under the right file name?”
“Positive. It’s like they’ve been completely erased. Had I accidentally deleted them, they’d still be in the recycle bin.” The tremble in my voice threatens to spill over so I bite my lip until it’s contained. “I just don’t understand.”
Flynn pulls the fat braid of my hair off my shoulder, tickling my earlobe with his forefinger. “There’s probably a logical explanation, but let’s just recreate them.”
I worked so hard on those invitations, not to mention the marketing plan for the new line. Now they’re all gone.
Did I screw things up when I was working so hard last week? It’s possible. Perhaps in a semi-drowsy, exhausted state, I mixed up the media. Deleted something that should have been saved. My perfectionist's heart shuns the ridiculous thought, but there’s no other explanation.
Flynn helps, providing input I didn’t consider with the original design. Before long we’ve created a brand new, fresh and exciting invitation. He even fast tracks the printing, contacting a friend who owns a custom stationery company. While I was not worried before, it is nice knowing the invitations will be in my hands the following week.
Snapping my laptop closed, I rise up from the floor. “I apologize again for the mix-up. It will never happen again.”
Snaking an arm around my waist, Flynn reels me in. “You work harder than anyone in my company.” His eyes, dark with seriousness, hold mine. “It’s not a big deal, and you won’t beat yourself up over it anymore. Understood? Or should I write it down in your ledger book as a reminder?”
“Got it.” My nod is jerky. “Thanks, Flynn.”
Together we clean up our lunch and dispose of things in the kitchen trash bins.
“So, tell me, Mr. Alexander,” I grin. “What do you do for fun on Saturday nights?”
His lips quirk as he wraps his arms around me. “I’ll ask you the same thing. You never seem to go anywhere on the weekends. You definitely don’t have people over.”
