Page 13 of Tangled Up

“I’m the maid of honor,” I said without any pretext.

“Okay.” He passed me an aluminum water bottle next. “What’s the problem with that?”

“The best man is a total tool bag.”

“How old is he?”

“I don’t know. Maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine.”

“No.” He laughed. “I mean the guy your mom is marrying? How old is he?”

“In his fifties, I guess.” I opened the ginseng and sank to the floor, ready for a nap even though it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

“What’s a kid doing hanging out with a fifty-year-old?”

“I’m twenty-five.” I swallowed the herbs with water. “And I hang out with you.”

“I’m not fifty.”

“Thirty-five…fifty. Close enough.”

“Hey!” Alex whacked the top of my head with his pencil. “So, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is he’s a know-it-all who drives a Mercedes-Benz.”

“A Mercedes? Sounds nice.”

“And he doesn’t like cats.”

Alex sniffed. “I don’t like cats.”

“He wore a short-sleeve button-down. Like a Boy Scout.”

“Always prepared. Who doesn’t like Boy Scouts?”

I glared up at Alex. “Whose side are you on here?”

He shrugged. “I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is he’s too good-looking.”

“How dare he!” Alex tossed me a smile then took his place back behind the curtain

From my place on the floor, I raised my fist to the sky in anger. “He should be in magazines. That’s the problem. He’s arrogant and a bully and incredibly hot.”

Alex mumbled something, probably nibbling on his pencil, and I moved to peek up at my boss. “What? What are you saying?”

He flicked his pencil out from between his teeth. “I said, it doesn’t sound like a problem to me. Sounds more like an opportunity.”

“I’m going to take this opportunity to rest my head. Wake me in ten minutes.” I closed my eyes, my head on top of the vegan protein bars I needed to put away.

CHAPTERFIVE

Jason

Santos & Mitchell Engineering Group buzzed about the CEO’s engagement. Balloons and flowers covered Frank’s office. A few men sat around drinking beer and eating hoagies and chicken wings, while I had my feet propped up on a chair, watching ESPN on a flat-screen mounted on the wall. Frank seized a chair next to me and offered me a beer, but I shook his head, biting into a sub.

Frank drank the Sam Adams himself. “I assume you got Gemma home safe and sound last night.”

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