“Jesus, what a clusterfuck.” Miles raked a hand down his face. “Are we sure we wanna merge with this guy?” he asked, and they all chuckled.
I wasn’t laughing. “I’m working on it.”
“You better. You’re not getting out of it,” Damon said. “We’ve been stuck in the information exchange stage for too long already—nothing’s happening. We sent you our info ages ago, and we need that information to start the valuation and synergies, before we send in the offer. You know that. You need to get your shit together. And quickly. Dad and the board are getting impatient. Two weeks—max.”
“Four,” I countered, unable to hide my irritation at his deadline. “That’s the bare minimum.” I had never been the type to give false promises or make excuses. Already, we were more than two weeks behind after moving to New York. While the recoup process with my teams between San Francisco and NYC was in full swing, putting together a convincing presentation was time consuming. “Humphries Properties benefits from the merger as much as I do.” It didn’t hurt to remind them that the deal was a two-way street and they wanted it just as much as I did.
“All right. Tell you what. You get your four weeks. On Monday morning in exactly one month, I want the papers on my desk, or the deal is off.”
I wouldn’t get more time from Damon, I knew that.
“Done,” I agreed, and we shook on it. Even if the lost boxes were to show up again—unlikely—and even if Ididfind the ideal assistant within the next few days—equally unlikely—it was a damn close call.
Gracie handed me my beer, and I looked at her. “Keep them coming. Let’s say, get the next round to us in thirty minutes, sound good?” The place wasn’t as crowded as it had been when we’d arrived. There was no reason for a delay. “Don’t make us wait.”
“Yes,sir,” she sang, playfully placing her right hand to her temple, giving me a mock salute. “I’m sure a man like you isn’t used to waiting for anything.” She leaned in to grab Oliver’s empty whiskey glass, giving him a “What’s wrong with this guy?” look.
“Hey, Gracie. No worries,” Miles replied before his brother had a chance to. “Tonight, he even kicked Damon from the dickface pedestal.”
“I’ve got to piss,” I announced, not giving a shit if it ruffled the guys’ undershirts—they’d live. I’d gotten tired of the circular conversation and decided a walk to the urinals and a splash of fresh water might calm me down. “But I’m serious about that beer, Gracie.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time, tiger,” Gracie said as I turned my back on them. “Lighten up. I’ve only got two hands.”
Okay, I knew I was acting like an asshole. I’d been this way for quite some time. Trying to care was hard after everything I’d gone through. Perhaps some of my mood may have been self-inflicted, but nobody wanted to hear that after a breakup. Just pick up, move on, business as usual. But life wasn’t that simple, and it seemed my personal shit had started to affect nearly every aspect of my life.
As I parted an ocean of patrons to make it to the other side of the bar, a scruffy biker dressed in tattered leathers sat slumped against the farthest wall, snoring loudly. It was impossible to remember the last time I’d had a good night’s sleep. The empty bottle clasped in his limp fist spoke volumes. Poor guy. These days it took me a lot more, and only a small part of Allison and my breakup was responsible for my insomnia. I wasn’t sad Allison and I hadn’t worked out. No, I was pissed the fuck off. I also had enough self-awareness to know that my biggest issue was mostly offended vanity that hung over my head like a thundercloud. This feeling would soon evaporate, I was sure. Then sunshine and rainbows, and all that shit.
Time would tell.
“Where are you going, stranger?” A voice interrupted my train of thought.
Turning around, I was met by the blonde ponytail girl from earlier, staring at me eagerly. “I realize I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier. I’m Emily, but my friends call me Emmie.” She wiggled her hips from side to side like an excited puppy preparing to pounce. “You’re Ace, right?”
“How do you know?”
“I overheard it earlier when you guys were talking.”
“Thanks for the shots, Emmie. But I’m on my way to the bathroom, excuse me,” I grumbled, pushing past her. I opened the Western saloon-style double doors that separated the men’s room from the rest of the bar, and strode in, hoping I’d left her behind.
“Hold on,” Emmie practically squealed. “I’ll come with!”
She skipped into the bathroom beside me, matching my pace. Her hand touched my ass as she followed, and when I glanced at her over my shoulder to confirm it was an accident, she winked at me. The blonde ponytail now cascaded over her shoulders, bouncing around in the middle of her back. It wasn’t the only thing that was bouncing around. My cock stirred, but not enough to make me succumb to temptation. Silently, I cursed Damon and the fact he had brought the merger to the table. Instead of a quickie, lost boxes and a faceless future assistant haunted my mind.
Emmie slinked closer to me like a wild cat stalking its prey, licking her lips. As she reached out to undo my pants, I gently grabbed her wrists.
To hell with the boys and their suggestion that I should be more polite in my rejections. Apparently, Emmie didn’t want to understand that I wasn’t in the mood for a dirty fuck in the restroom. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.Seriously,” I growled, and this time—finally—it was enough for her to understand.
Her eyes widened as realization dawned, and she shrugged indifferently. “All right, cowboy. You know where to find me.” My sympathy was limited. I wouldn’t even have been her first choice—she’d put Damon first. I’d never been good at being number two, and I wouldn’t start now.
2
DAMON
“Don’t forget about Ace’s beer, doll,” I said as Gracie handed Miles his drink. “Don’t make him come looking for you to get it either. He’s dealing with some shit.”
“I won’t,” Gracie replied. “You know I won’t. I was joking. I can tell something’s bugging your friend. Nobody, not even Ace, can be that grumpy without a good reason.” She nodded at me and smiled, causing her messy brown bun to flop around on top of her head.
“Appreciate it, Gracie.”