Page 22 of One Night Only
“That’s Tyler, my boyfriend.” Vera points at a chiseled blond perched on the edge of the chaise with an Xbox controller in his hand. He lifts his chin at me, offering a kind smile before focusing back on the computer game playing on the huge flatscreen.
“And the guy on the floor is Happy.” Fran points. “He can’t hear you because he’s too busy trolling thirteen-year-olds in Xbox land.”
Happy—not his real name I’m sure—sits with his back to me, wearing a huge pair of gamer headphones. As if on cue, he shouts, “Ha! Eat shit, ya little bitch!”
“Happy, dude!” Tyler scoffs. “Kid’s, like, ten.”
I side-eye Fran right as she offers me anI-told-you-solook.
At that moment, a pretty brunette emerges from the openingnext to the kitchen, busy tying her hair up into a messy knot. Her gaze lands on me and she pauses, a smile blooming across her face as she rounds the huge island counter and approaches.
“Hey, you must be Emily,” she says, securing the hair tie. “I’m Hannah.”
“Hi.” I smile. She’s stunning in that effortlessgirl-next-doorway, and her eyes are ridiculous—the palest blue I’ve ever seen in real life.
I glance around the room. “I assume you’re… Happy’s partner?” I point at the man who appears to still be yelling at children through a gaming console.
Fran slaps a hand over her mouth, choking with laughter.
“Ew!” Hannah gasps, rearing back, eyes wide, a look of blatant disgust on her face.
“Hannah’s the daughter of the guys’ head coach!” Fran manages through her own laughter. “We’ve kind of adopted her.”
“Oh.” I offer Hannah a rueful glance. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll let it slide,” Hannah says with narrowed eyes and the hint of a smile. “Just this once.”
We’re interrupted by an arm reaching over my shoulder from behind, a glass of red wine suddenly thrust in my face. I startle, turning my head to see Dallas yet again, right there with no concept of personal space.
“Cabernet.” He grins, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Reluctantly I take it, lips pursed in an attempt to stifle my smile. Does he remember my wine of choice, or is this just a coincidence?
“And of course, you know Dallas,” Fran says quickly, trying to hide her sheepish smirk.
“Better than anyone else here,” Dallas whispers, right next to my ear.
I gulp a big mouthful of wine, feeling my cheeks flush.
“And this hot jerk is my boyfriend, Robbie.” Fran waves adismissive hand to her left, right as a tall, dark, and very handsome tattooed man appears by her side.
“Love you too, Keller,” Robbie mutters with an eye roll, wrapping an arm around Fran and holding an inked hand out for me. “Robbie Mason.”
“Emily Cole.” I shake his proffered hand.
“I think I met you briefly when I came into the office to see Andy a couple weeks ago, but it was only like your first or second day,” Robbie says. “How do you like working for the most dramatic man in all of Manhattan?” He chuckles.
Dallas laughs, still standing far too close behind me.
“Andy’s great,” I say, shrugging a shoulder.
“You mustn’t have witnessed one of his full-blown meltdowns yet,” Robbie continues. “The guy can throw a tantrum better than his six-year-olds.”
All I can do is smile because on one hand, I don’t want to come across as closed off or rude, but on the other hand, I don’t want to stand here and badmouth my boss in front of two of his clients.
“Maybe it’s you two who cause Andy’s meltdowns,” Fran quips. “Ever thought of that?”
Robbie playfully smacks her butt.
