Chapter 21
Simon
Robbie
Where are you man? The natives are getting restless
I shove my phone back into my pocket, then work the button on my pants, watching as Violet slips her red lace bra back into place.
Her hair is tousled. Her cheeks flushed.
Her office is trashed, paperwork crammed to one side of the desk, some still slipping and seesawing to the floor.
Her underwear hangs off her computer monitor.
“What’s got you grinning?” she asks with a grin of her own.
“You,” I say simply, then pluck her undies off the monitor and hand them over.
We tidy the office as best we can and I sneak a text back to Robbie.
If by natives you mean Nash, buy him a cocoa or something
We’re on our way
Way ahead of you on the cocoa
But I’m talking about me, man. You know how bad I am at waiting
We’re headed out now
Fire up the snow machines, turn on the twinkle lights, and release the playlist
“You look like a Bond villain.” Violet folds her arms and cocks her head. “In that black coat and red scarf, the collar popped, hunched over your phone like you’re hiding something.”
I slide the phone into a pocket.
“Funny, I don’t feel like a villain.”
And while I know she’s joking, part of me wonders if that’s still how she sees me. As the bad guy. The man who broke all his promises and left her to fend for herself.
Which would be fair. And is exactly what I’m trying to make up for.
“Come on,” I say, threading my fingers through hers. “I apparently have an image to rewrite.”