Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
“T hings were going well. Way better than I expected,” Xanthe said two days later.
“For real?” Allistair asked, understandably astonished.
“Yeah, and so I agreed to dinner last night. But then he straight up bailed on me.” He’d made it seem like he was genuinely into her, only to cancel their date an hour before they were supposed to meet, then gone radio silence since.
“Did he say why?”
“Nope.”
“Apologize?”
“Sort of.” It was all so weird. He’d seemed so into her at lunch.
“And you haven’t heard anything from him since?”
“Nope.” This was partly why she’d given up dating. Way too much bullshit to deal with.
Allistair shook his head, hanging on her every word. “Bastard.”
She frowned, inexplicably compelled to defend him. It was that damned vulnerability she’d glimpsed. “Easy. I’m not saying he did it on purpose to pull a power trip or anything. There’s no evidence to support that.”
He blinked. “Oh. Sorry, I thought we were all for hating his capitalist guts still.”
That sounded so childish it was cringey. “No, I…” She made an exasperated sound. “I don’t hate him as a person.” Not after the goodness she’d seen in him. She wasn’t a heartless monster. “I hate what he stands for and what he helped happen here. But…”
“But what?”
“Nothing.”
She’d barely stopped herself from saying the truth out loud. That having lunch with him the other day had changed her perception of him.
Slightly. Softened her a bit where he was concerned. The man she’d sat across the table from hadn’t been an evil, rich corporate pig. He’d been thought-provoking. Human. And seemed genuinely interested in her.
She’d actually liked that guy. Much good it had done her. “I’m just pissed that he’s ghosted me without any warning or explanation. I mean, if it had been a shit date, I would have understood, but it was not a shit date.”
“So it was a date?” Allistair said, his eyes lighting up.
“What was a date?” Samantha asked, walking in with a to-go coffee cup.
“Xanthe went on a date with Slater.”
“What?” Samantha turned to her, looking stunned.
“I know. I told him otherwise, but…yeah, it felt like a date near the end.” At least, it had seemed that way to her once they’d put the discussion about the development aside.
“Wow.” Allistair leaned back in his chair as Samantha went to her desk, shoved her hands in the pockets of her fleece hoodie, curiosity stamped all over her face. “So, how was the conversation? Would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall for that .”
“It was fine.”
“Girl. Had to be a helluva lot better than just fine , or there’s zero chance you’d have told him you’d see him again.” She narrowed her eyes at her. “Nuh-uh, he intrigued you.”
She flushed, turned back to her computer monitor and opened another Excel worksheet to save herself from answering, plus Samantha was already working and Xanthe was team leader.
She wondered what Blaine would make of the new data she’d compiled.
She’d bet he would appreciate the way she’d organized her analysis. He would definitely understand it.
That was way hotter than she wanted it to be under the circumstances.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up, her pulse skittering when she saw the text from him. Not a message though. A meme.
The graphic showed three spyhopping orcas all in a row, their heads above the water. The caption below read, “Whale, whale, whale, what have we got here?” And underneath that: “Was this orca-strated on porpoise, or was it a fluke?”
She grinned, couldn’t help the reluctant chuckle even though she was still annoyed at him.
“What? Is it him?” Allistair rolled his chair toward her station without waiting for a response.
She held out her phone for him to see as Samantha glanced over briefly before returning to her work.
He smirked. “Okay, that’s pretty cute. Is that his idea of an olive branch?”
“Guess so.” Oh, dammit, why did he have to have a cute sense of humor too?
“So he’s loaded, hot, built, has a new appreciation and concern for orcas, and he’s funny.” Allistair gave a low whistle. “Girl, you are in so much trouble,” he said with an evil chuckle.
She shot him a glare. “No, I’m not.” She typed back a quick response. Very cute.
Nothing more. She wasn’t giving him a millimeter more than he deserved.
Her change of heart and burgeoning feelings for him still confused her.
Messed with her head, and she didn’t like or trust it.
She needed to focus on her work and the data for this paper she was co-authoring, not wind herself up about a guy who was her polar opposite in almost every way—and who was partly responsible for the impending loss of her workplace and home.
He sent back a smiley face. Thought of you as soon as I saw this and had to send it. I’m really sorry about the other night.
She raised an eyebrow, trying not to be mollified because he hadn’t offered an explanation.
I’m headed back to the island now. Any chance I can make it up to you tonight?
Her greedy, sex-deprived brain read that as make out before it settled down and processed the words correctly.
She set her phone down without responding. Mostly because she’d been way too tempted to say yes.
“What’d he say?” Allistair demanded.
“Don’t you have work to do? Be like Samantha. Look how diligent she is.”
“Did he apologize? Grovel? God, I love a good grovel.” When she didn’t answer, he tutted in exasperation. “Xanthe, what did he say?”
“He said he’s sorry and that he’s on his way back to the island. Wants to take me out tonight instead.”
Samantha glanced over at that, clearly interested.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I haven’t decided yet,” she said primly.
“Making him sweat a little. Good strategy, it’ll make him want you even more.” Allistair put his headphones back on, a giant grin on his face.
She was glad someone found her predicament amusing.
Okay. Focus.
She ran another calculation comparing two data sets she’d chosen to test the null hypothesis. The resulting p value proved that they could reject the null hypothesis, and therefore accept the alternative hypothesis, which is exactly what she’d been trying to prove in the first place.
Yessss…
There it was, solid evidence in black and white. God, science was the coolest.
Her phone buzzed again. She glanced over at it, unable to help herself.
Are you mad? Or busy working?
“Both,” she muttered to herself, and went back to her data. Whatever he’d been so busy doing that he couldn’t call or text until now, he needed to respect that her work and time were just as important as his. She wasn’t going to drop everything to suit him.
“I love that you’re making him work for it,” Allistair said, focused on his own screen, headphones around his neck so he could hear her phone. “Guys eat that shit up. It’s weird. Something about the thrill of the hunt, I guess.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be listening to whale songs over there?”
“I’m multitasking.”
Her phone started ringing before she could refocus.
She sighed. “Are you serious?” But it wasn’t Slater’s number on the display. It was Lachlan’s.
She answered. “Hey.”
“You need to get up here now, and bring Samantha and Allistair with you.”
Alarm ripped through her at his urgent tone, tightening her stomach muscles. “Why, what’s going on?”
“We’ve got a mass stranding event near Cedar Point.”