Page 11 of Stood Up
“No, but he was pretty persistent even going as far as to say Mr. Dean forced you to leave with him. That he watched from the door of the restaurant and it didn’t look like friendly conversation.”
“It wouldn’t with Mason’s tongue down my throat.”
Lila chuckles, “I can see this.”
“Drake got his feelings hurt. He’s the one that should have called. Now, I didn’t plan on going with Mason, it was just a right time, right place kind of deal. I don’t regret it though, Lila. It was fantastic and just what I needed. To have a man like him treat me as if I were the most desirable thing on the planet and follow through with it. Fate had it that I was there. He was there and now, it’s over. Not to mention he put his hands on me, that’s an automatic out.”
“Are you sure it’s over?” Lila asks as I sit her now topped off coffee in front of her.
“Yes. One night.”
“You don’t sound so sure of that.”
While I could go another round, Mason Dean is history. “I am Lila.”
Lila and I turn the conversation to meaningless chitchat where we laugh and enjoy one another. The entire time Mason Dean niggles in the back of my mind.
* * *
“Right on time,” Mr. James says, opening his office door as I enter. His office is quite expansive with light wooden furniture and several windows along the wall. I move directly to the chair in front of his wide desk sitting down.
“Nice to see you dressed up,” he grumbles. Brantley James is a handsome man with short blond hair and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. The problem is, he’s grumpy and moody, but to me there is a reason behind it. I don’t see it as it being his natural self. It’s as if something or someone has put him in this mood. Whatever it is, I hope he figures it out and quick.
Brantley James reminds me a lot of Mason. Broody, demanding, an arrogance of control around him. Not to mention very very attractive, but he doesn’t do what Mason does to me with a single breath.
Two of the three times I’ve met with Mr. James, he’s commented on my clothes. I dress casual for work, normally in jeans and nice shirts. Of those two times he saw me in my jeans, he called impromptu meetings. The first time I met with him I did wear a professional skirt. Sometimes I have moods of my own.
Today, I have on well-worn jeans that have a slight tear or two and light green top. Nothing fancy, but I’m comfortable and do my best work that way.
“Nice to see you, too.” I open up my bag and pull out the papers. “I’ve isolated the problem.” Mr. James takes his seat behind the desk, and we get to work. I’m damn good at my job and nail out a solution for Mr. James in twenty minutes. The entire time the man doesn’t smile, but I feel in my gut it has nothing to do with me. It’s none of my business, but I can’t help the curiosity there.
Thirty minutes later, I’m back at my office calling a guy I contract for my tech needs and having him set up a new program for Mr. James’ inventory.
I already feel damn accomplished, and it’s only two o’clock.
* * *
My cell ringsas I lay on my couch watching mind-numbing television in my pajamas. I ate a nasty salad for dinner, reminding me I need to go to the grocery store and get some real food quick. I look to the caller display and it saysGreg calling.What the ever-loving fuck?
I swipe the ignore button and toss my phone beside me on the couch. I’ve got nothing to say to him, and he sure as hell has nothing to say about me. No thanks. The television blares, catching my attention as two reality stars begin arguing like they’re three-years-old fighting over a toy they each want. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine, even though I want to jump in and fix everything. The main thing is—get off a reality show!
I chuckle to myself. Oh what a tangled web we weave.
