Chapter 17 #2
“Do you know how to use a knife? A can opener?”
I narrow my eyes at him and purse my lips for a moment before answering. “Of course.”
“Then you’re hired.”
“Okay, I’ll come, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t put potato salad on the menu. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Gah. Why isn’t he following the program?
He should have had enough of my shenanigans by now.
Instead, he’s giving as good as he’s receiving, and I’m barely focusing on my mission.
I’m supposed to be making him miserable, but he seems to be enjoying my company and wanting more of it.
And honestly, this unfortunate development thrills me.
What the hell is happening, and how do I make it stop?
Jason
“Ready to get your second round of potato salad?” I ask Vanessa.
She’s cheesing so hard, and I’m captivated by her unguarded demeanor. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t—”
Whatever she was going to say gets swallowed by a gasp.
“What is it?” I ask, noticing her expression hardening.
She shakes her head as if to clear it. “Nothing, really. Saw someone I didn’t think would show up today.”
I twist around to see the “someone” who just arrived: a white man who looks to be in his early thirties. Tall, wiry, and a dead ringer for that actor from the Deadpool movies. His gaze sweeps over Vanessa with familiarity. I hate him on sight. “Bad blood between you two?”
“That’s the head of the Chicago office. He made it possible for me to be here.”
There’s so much she isn’t saying, which, given that this is Vanessa, shouldn’t come as a surprise. “Wait a minute. Did you want to be transferred?”
“I didn’t have a choice. I pissed off the wrong person.”
The picture I’m getting isn’t flattering. Of him. And all it does is confirm my initial reaction to his possessive gaze. I grit my teeth, then will myself to calm down. “What do you mean?”
My steely tone gets her attention. “Forget I said anything, Jason. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”
“Do you want to head out? I’m here to do whatever you want. Whatever you need.”
Clearly fighting back tears, she looks up at me. “I’m not upset about him. I’m upset about the situation I put myself in. And I just need to not lose my shit in front of my new colleagues. Can you help me with that?”
I pull her close and press a soft kiss against the corner of her mouth. “Consider it done.”
“Thank you,” she says, burrowing into my embrace.
The jerk circles the perimeter of the gathering, but his gaze keeps returning to Vanessa.
Yeah, this man is whipped, and she’s obviously not interested.
I maneuver us away from the crowd, just in case there’s a confrontation.
As expected, he slowly makes his way over to us.
Throwing on my game face, I straighten to my full height and slide my hand around Vanessa’s waist.
“Good to see you again,” he says to her.
“I’m surprised you’re here.”
“The execs wanted my expertise, so I was visiting on business. Figured I’d say hello to the new group.” He extends his hand to me. “David Warner. You are?”
“Jason Torres.”
He looks between us. “A friend?”
“Whatever she wants me to be.”
“Huh,” he says. “Interesting. Are you a financial planner, Jason?”
“No, I own a construction firm.”
“Ah,” he says. “A potential client, then.”
“I’m not looking for financial planning advice at this time, but I will say Chicago’s loss is New York’s gain.”
David clucks his tongue. “Fair point. But you know what they say: New York is for your twenties, everywhere else is for a lifetime.”
Vanessa groans. “No one says that.”
“Give me a minute of your time,” the jerk says, invading her personal space.
She sidesteps his advance and shifts close enough that our bodies are touching. The satisfaction I’m experiencing from that simple move is well out of proportion for what it probably means, and that’s definitely on me.
“Is what you want to talk about related to work?” Vanessa asks him.
“You know it isn’t,” he says, imploring her with his eyes to give him a chance.
“Then no, you won’t be getting any more minutes from me.” She places her hand on my chest. “I’m thirsty. Let’s grab something to drink.” Over her shoulder, she adds, “Have a safe trip back to Chicago, David.”
“Can I call you before I leave?” he asks her.
“You’re welcome to, but I blocked your personal number, so good luck with that.” Then she pulls me along to the beverage table.
After grabbing two glasses of wine, I hand one to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m a good listener.”
“I know you are, but this isn’t a story fit to be told. Nor is this the place.”
“Let’s get out of here, then. You’ve done the rounds. You’ve met your coworkers. Let’s get some real food somewhere and talk.”
She studies my face and smiles. “You’re a sweet guy.”
“But?”
“But I think I just want to go home and clear my head. Alone. Maybe I’ll see you when you’re working at the store tomorrow?”
I step back and take a final sip of wine. “Of course. We’re moving at your pace, remember?”
“Thanks for being so understanding.”
“You’d be surprised by how much I understand, Vanessa.”
She tilts her head and peers at me, but she doesn’t say anything in response.
That’s Vanessa for you: She only shares what she absolutely has to.
I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am. And even though letting me into her life isn’t part of her agenda, I want it to be.
That’s a big problem—one I have no clue how to solve.