Page 29 of All Wrong
“I can’t. Mr. Gehman has an important project that requires my attention.”
Corinne took in Becci’s outfit du jour, something more suitable for a social media influencer than a small-town assistant bank manager. Black tights, black body suit, the bright red of the short skirt and blazer matching the soles of her knockoff Louboutins. It wasn’t typical casual business attire —at least not in Pine Ridge.
“I’ll bet he does,” Corinne murmured.
“Excuse me?”
Corinne looked Becci right in the eye and enunciated clearly. “I said, I’ll bet he does.”
Becci’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Look, it’s no secret you wanted the promotion, but obviously, Mr. Gehman didn’t think you were up to the task. You’re just going to have to accept that.”
Rage boiled inside Corinne, threatening to erupt in a fiery show. The entire week had been awful. Becci had been flitting around the bank like a queen, delegating, delegating, delegating.
“And you have to accept that your promotion is exactly that—yours, not mine.” Corinne closed the file and pushed her chair back. Removing her purse from the drawer, she got to her feet.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that, given your elevated position, you should be able to help them. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” Becci asked.
“To lunch.”
“But you never take a lunch.”
“Then, I’d say I’m due, wouldn’t you?”
“What about the Johnsons?”
“I’m sure Mr. Gehman will understand. You know how emphatic he is about putting the customer first.”
Corinne moved forward, leaving Becci no choice but to get out of the way. Locking her door behind her, she exited through a side door, avoiding the waiting area and the Johnsons. She felt bad about that. They were lovely people. But if she didn’t put some space between her and Becci, she was going to say or do something that would burn some bridges.
And she really did have somewhere she needed to be.
She inhaled deeply the moment she stepped outside, the heat and humidity hitting hard after the climate-controlled interior of the bank. Extracting a hair tie from her pocket, she gathered her hair and secured it into a loose knot. The air was thick and heavy but calm, which meant those predictions of agusty afternoon thunderstorm might come to pass. Hopefully, it would hold off until after she made it back to the bank because she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella.
The sound of a motorcycle moving down the street grabbed her instant attention. Corinne’s heart skipped a beat as she slowed her stride and searched for the source. It was practically a Pavlovian response. She’d always had a thing for motorcycles and the men who drove them, but riding with Nick had taken her appreciation to a new level.
The bike rumbled into sight. The rider was too beefy. Too beardy. Not Nick. The sense of anticipation fizzled away as quickly as it had come.
Which was stupid, really, to get so excited about the possibility of seeing one man when on the way to meet another, especially when—last weekend’s bizarre events aside—nothing had changed between them. The few times their paths had crossed—at the garage, when she went to pick up her car, and at The Zone, where she volunteered a few times a week—Nick had been as distant and aloof as ever, and she’d respected those boundaries.
She took it to be yet another sign from the universe, telling her to get on with her life.
Hence her acceptance of Brett Buckman’s lunch invitation.
It had taken him several days to call, assuming Lacie had given him Corinne’s number and the green light on Monday. When he did, he was polite and pleasant. They’d agreed on a public place near the bank with a time commitment limited to her lunch hour. All in all, a good option for a first encounter.
Grassroots was a relatively new, locally owned, independently operated place, run by a young couple, specializing in light, generally healthy food. Soups, salads, sandwiches. Nothing heavy or deep-fried. Lots of hand-squeezed juices and herbal teas. It was a sensible option for people who had to return to work and didn’t want to feel bogged down and lethargic.
The café was a popular place during lunch hours, and today was no exception. Fortunately, Brett had arrived early and snagged a prime table in the corner. He stood and offered a slight wave when she entered.
She took him in as she drew closer, thinking that he wasn’t a bad-looking man. Physically fit. Blond hair cut short and warm brown eyes that sparkledunder the chic hanging lights. A man who looked comfortable in his own body, but not full of himself.
His smile was easy and friendly as he held out a chair for her.
At least he’s trying to make a good impression, which was another plus for him, though experience had taught her not to judge a man based on one or two courteous gestures. Wolf in sheep’s clothing and all that.
