Chapter 7 Kimberly
KIMBERLY
"Kimberly, you don't have to do the report yourself. I'll get it to you," Thomas said.
"You've got your hands full. I'll do this. Besides, I like to know the details."
I was at the bar, intending to review our stock. It was empty and quiet in the mornings. I brought my laptop with me, where we had everything stored electronically, of course, but I liked to be at the bar while I did the inventory so I could do a physical count too.
"You're here early," Drake's voice sounded from behind me.
I straightened up, nearly falling off the bar chair while I took him in. Is there any moment of the day when this guy doesn't look perfect? I didn't think he was wearing custom-made suits, but still, they fit him so well that I had a hard time not ogling him.
"I'm checking the inventory."
Drake frowned, coming up to the bar and sitting next to me just as Thomas went in the back. "That's not your job."
"Are you going to berate me now for working too much?"
He smiled. "No, I'm just surprised."
"That I'm not slacking?"
"Kimberly, I know you have a lot on your plate. It's just taking me a while to adjust to working in a family-owned company versus corporate, where everyone likes to brag about how long they work, even though what they do isn't relevant to their job."
"Why did you come up to the bar?" I asked.
"I want to check the menus we printed last week and make sure the quality is exactly what we asked for."
I pressed my lips together. "You can take that off your list. I already did it. I like taking care of details."
"Duly noted. By the way, you were right about my sister. I think my presence here helps.”
I smiled. “I’m glad about that.”
“She keeps saying she feels guilty that I moved here, but it was my decision.”
“A very commendable one. Not many would uproot themselves for their siblings.”
"You moved from Paris, right? Why?"
"Because I wanted to be home. I’d sowed my wild oats. And when Travis told me what he had planned for the hotel, I realized I wanted to be part of building the Maxwell legacy. I spent too much time shunning it."
"Why?"
I swallowed hard, shrugging. "Personal issues."
He nodded. "Okay. I respect that."
I glanced around, looking for a way to change the topic. “I’ll check on how customers react to the new menu tonight. I planned to drop by anyway."
He smirked. "You have another date?"
"No, but now that you brought it up, I could go on my app again and see if they match me with someone who's available this evening."
He sat straighter in the chair. In fact, his entire body language seemed to change. He rolled his shoulders back, and his jaw looked tense when he tilted closer.
"Kimberly, you can do better than those bookish schmucks."
I couldn't sit still when he looked at me like that. I sighed, focusing on the laptop, but then I realized I wouldn't be able to work while he sat next to me.
"Why do you even use the dating apps?" he added.
"Because I can put in what I want, set some filters, and hope the software will do all the weeding for me."
"What are you looking for, exactly?"
"Someone with a sense of humor, who’s kind and thoughtful, who spoils me and, I don't know, remembers my favorite lunch and things like that. Know anyone like that? Maybe a friend?" I was only half joking, hoping to get a rise out of him.
"I'm not going to set you up with any friend, Kimberly." His tone was unexpectedly sharp. His nostrils flared, like he was upset about something.
"Why not?" I whispered and swallowed hard.
Goodness, where is this going?
"You know why." He looked away.
A low buzz thrummed through my body. No, I didn't know why. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask, but then he glanced back at me.
"No one's good enough for you," he stated adamantly.
“Hmm, is that a compliment, or are you hiding the fact that you don't have any friends? I'm not judging you, by the way. I just moved back to the city and haven't had a chance to reconnect with my old friends yet."
Thomas came back, arranging the shot glasses in front of the tequila bottles.
"So, know anyone who I could date who's not a schmuck?" I asked Thomas. He knew more about my dating life than probably half my family anyway.
"What about Jonathan from sales?" he suggested.
I scoffed. "No. It can't be someone I work with."
"Bummer. He's nice. Stopped in here a couple of times during rush hour to help out."
"I didn't know that.” That was exceptionally nice of Jonathan, but also poor planning on our part. That wasn't in his job description.
Thomas shrugged as he went into the back room once again.
I turned to Drake, who was unnaturally still. I licked my lower lip.
"Is that a hard line for you?" he asked.
I was confused. "What?"
"Dating someone from work."
"Yes," I said decisively.
Oh my God. The thrum from before intensified.
"You know why."
He wanted to ask me on a date. That just didn't seem possible.
And it isn't, Kimberly. This is a hard line for you, and you just told him that. But the way he looked at me made me want to throw caution to the wind.
“That's a good rule to have,” he muttered in a voice so low that I almost didn't hear him. He slid off his chair, brushing my right hip in the process. Heat instantly pooled between my thighs. I sucked in my belly and drew in my breath. I was being ridiculous.
"Sorry. You okay?" he asked, putting a hand on the small of my back.
I was burning for this man.
I cleared my throat. "Yep. All good."
He dropped his hand immediately, and I sucked in another breath.
I wanted his touch. How could that be?
"See you around, Kimberly.”
“Not today, you won’t. I’m caught up in calls all day. I can’t even stretch my legs for lunch.”
He winked. “I’m in some of those calls too.”
We had back-to-back calls with the producers of all the bath and body products we used in the hotel. It was going to be a doozy.
I spent half an hour finalizing the inventory before returning to my office. The day was brutal. At lunch, I only had time for a quick trip to the restroom.
When I came back, I caught my assistant putting a tray on my desk.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's a chicken club sandwich."
"You went for one?”
“No. Drake put the package on my desk. Said it’s for you.”
What? I was speechless, watching her leave. He’d been in all the calls—no, wait. He’d left fifteen minutes earlier during the last one.
My jaw dropped. He'd sent me this? My chest rose and fell rapidly as my breath accelerated. There was even a hot chocolate to go. I was about to take a sip when I noticed my phone had an unread message from Drake.
Drake: I can't do much about the rest, but I know your favorite lunch.
Kimberly: How did this even happen?
Drake: I went across the street.
Kimberly: How did you even know what to order?
Drake: Told Giacomo it was for you. He knew what to do. He even warmed up a bit to me in the process.
Kimberly: You braved Giacomo for me?
Drake: I'd do a lot more than that for you, Kimberly.
I put the phone down, grabbing my cup and taking a swig. I didn't want to know what that "a lot more" meant.
Yet, at the same time, I was desperate to find out.