Page 14 of What Happened Last Night

In the office, I sorted through the mail she’d collected for me while she pulled out shirt samples and spread them on my desk. Her cell phone rang, which meant there was a call coming in for me.

“Don’t answer it,” I said, not looking up from the mail. “I don’t care who it is.”

She’d sent me the quotes she’d received, and I’d read through them. I felt my brain go into assessment mode as I picked up each sample and we discussed options. Which supplier had the best product? Which could turn around orders most reliably? Which had the most variety? My phone rang two more times, but we ignored it as we narrowed down the decision.

Luna was smart, a good listener. Her thoughts were in sync with mine, and she had insights that I hadn’t considered. I’d always surrounded myself with good people—it was one of the secrets to my success—but I’d never worked with a partner before. In business, I was a lone wolf. Luna wasn’t exactly a partner, but for the first time, I understood what working with a partner would be like.

“Your numbers,” she said, pointing to the screen of her laptop, which she’d opened so we could scroll documents as we worked. “The ones you brainstormed that first night.”

“What about them?” I asked, folding a shirt.

“They’re almost exact.” She flipped between the estimate I’d typed out and the budget she’d made using the costs from vendors. “You predicted the budget to within a few thousand dollars while working with no actual data. It’s amazing. How did you do it?”

“I’m good at this,” I said, folding another shirt. Those numbers had been an educated guess, made late at night after smoking a joint. I felt not a flicker of surprise that they were correct. “It isn’t exactly a skill that impresses people.”

Luna picked up a shirt, shaking her head. “It impresses me. Your brain is something, boss. It’s like you know everything.”

My hands slowed. The office seemed too small all of a sudden, the air thick. We weren’t facing each other, and yet I was completely aware of her standing next to me, the line of her neck, the flare of her hips in her skirt, the soft smile touching the corner of her mouth as she looked down at the shirt she was putting away, her lashes lowered.

It was just a compliment, a kindness, but something shifted. For me, at least. Luna showed no sign of noticing that I was suddenly inert and awkward, unable to speak.

Employee. With boyfriend.

I’d never had this happen before, not with any assistant, not with any employee. It was deeply uncomfortable. I tried not to panic.

It seemed I needed a girlfriend. It was over a year since I’d broken up with Lizbeth. I had no time for dating and no interest in apps. I took care of business daily, usually in the shower, but that obviously wasn’t enough anymore.

I was supposed to be a grown man, not a nerd with a pile of used tissues in my trash and way too much Reddit karma. Workouts weren’t taking the edge off, as evidenced by the fact that I was this close to leaning toward my assistant so I could brush the tender skin at the back of her neck. An act that would end me in every way that mattered, and rightly so.

I took a deep breath as quietly as I could so she wouldn’t hear. Bit the inside of my bottom lip to get my head back in the game. Put the shirt I was holding down on the pile.

Luna’s phone rang again. Luna looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I shook my head.

“The Midwest trip,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Let’s do this now. How soon can we get me to Wisconsin? I’d like to be there tomorrow.”

SIX

Luna

It was payday, and I was at Pioneer Place, wandering and shopping. This wasn’t my usual ritual. I shopped for my work clothes at thrift shops, vintage shops, or online. The hunt for great vintage clothes—and then the care and upkeep of the pieces I found—was a hobby I’d picked up when I finished college and started my first grown-up job at the architecture firm. Some of the clothes in my closet were truly vintage, while others were modern but designed in vintage style. I had my go-to stores, none of which could be found in malls, but with my boss out of town, I was at loose ends.

Will had been gone for three days, and I was busy, though my schedule was my own. I booked his travel from one city to the next, as well as his hotels and the meetings he needed at the venues. I made sure that his schedule was set and he always knew where he was going. We talked or texted several times per day, and I had the shirt project to finish as well as the day-to-day running of RKS.

But most of my work could be done with a laptop and a phone, and without Will’s presence, I went to the office less than before. Because he was a few hours ahead of me, I began my day in my pajamas in my apartment. I’d go into the office—it seemed weird not to—but I couldn’t stay long. It just seemed odd to sit there alone.

I missed him. It was strange to say that about a man you worked for, a man you usually weren’t in the same room with even when he was in town, but it was still true. I’d gotten used to the expectation of seeing him, the anticipation of when that might be. Even with a crush as bad as mine, it was still surprising that Will’s physical presence had addicted me so much. Except for a quick handshake at our interview, he’d never touched me.

But my blood fizzed like champagne when he was in the room, and the fizzing went into overdrive when he looked at me. That last day at lunch, I’d had the crazy urge to climb across the picnic table and settle into his lap. When he’d leaned across me in the elevator, I had—at long last—caught an inhale of his scent, and my reaction had been so visceral that I’d needed to take a step back. Will Hale smelled good, really good, just like I knew he would.

It was for the best that he was away for a while, because I’d managed not to make a fool of myself so far, but I didn’t know if it would last. I needed a break to clear my head before he caught on.

And I should probably find a boyfriend.

With this in mind, I wandered into a lingerie store, assessing the bras and panties. Like my work dresses, I liked to treat myself to occasional nice underwear. The best way to improve a great outfit is to wear great underwear beneath it.

I was running my fingers over the lace of a demi-cup bra when my phone rang in my bag. I pulled it out and tried not to roll my eyes. My job was amazing, but it had one giant, godawful drawback: Lizbeth Snopes.

My hot boss’s ex-girlfriend called more frequently than any ex-girlfriend should. As an ex-girlfriend myself to several men, I hadn’t called a single one of them since the day I got the last of my belongings back. Boundaries didn’t seem to be in Lizbeth’s vocabulary, and I couldn’t figure out what her angle was, considering she lived on the opposite coast and was marrying someone else. She never chatted and she gave nothing away. When she called, she always snapped tightly at me to have Will call her, then hung up.

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