N.Y.E. Page 7

  "You know you want to see him."

  "And that is the problem," I told him with a sigh. "I don't do casual sex, Ev, because I always want more. And I can't want more with him."

  "Why not?"

  "Because he doesn't want more with me."

  "You don't know that."

  "Since I started working for him, he's texted me at least a dozen times a day. Since that night, nothing. Not a single text."

  To that, Evan didn't have much to say. Since he was the one who frequently told me when I was fretting about someone calling or not that if a man wants you, he finds you, he makes the moves. So if he isn't tracking you down, letting you know he was into you, then he wasn't. Case closed.

  It simplified dating.

  And to say that Grant was just being unsure or something of that sort would simply go against everything he fundamentally believed about dating.

  "Alright. I'll go. But for the record, you know that I am always a firm believer in confronting problems."

  "You're better at it than I am."

  "Because I've practiced it, perfected it. You avoid it at all costs."

  He wasn't wrong.

  But this was hardly the time to practice. With two-hundred-fifty-thousand on the line. Evan, thankfully, understood that. He wanted that paycheck as badly as I did.

  We were so close, too.

  The finish line was in sight.

  Five days and we could move on with our lives with a lot less worry.

  So Evan was willing to play the middle man if that was what was needed so we could complete this job.

  "One thing," Evan said, turning back to me after putting his jacket on.

  "Yeah?"

  "What if he asks where you are?"

  "Tell him I had other things to oversee."

  I literally had nothing to do. The kind of nothing that meant that I spent the next hour organizing the files on my computer, running virus scans, and filling in my calendar for the new year.

  I nearly flew out of my chair when Evan finally came back two hours later. "How'd it go?"

  "I signed a piece of paper and watched some very not yummy men roll in endless dollies of liquor. Not much room for screwing up."

  "Was he there?"

  If I didn't know Evan as well as I did, if I hadn't been examining him as hard as I was, I might have missed it.

  He stiffened.

  "Yes."

  "Did he ask where I was?"

  "No."

  I'd never been one to boast of a lot of pride. But what little I had left felt crushed, pulverized at that information. Even if I should have known better. Because, even if I was a novice at the casual sex thing, Grant was an old pro. Even according to his write up in the paper that made him the most eligible bachelor, it was stated how he'd never been serious with any woman, never even been photographed with the same one twice.

  I was one of many.

  Utterly forgettable, I would imagine, given my likely model-beautiful, rich, interesting, or more experienced competition for his attention.

  And that right there was just about enough of that, I decided, shaking my head of the negative thoughts, especially the ones that would make me compare myself to anyone else.

  "Is there anything else I need to know?"

  "Other than his gaze constantly going over to the bar where you two did the dirty?" Evan asked with a brow raise.

  "You're making that up."

  "When do I ever lie to you?"

  "He was probably thinking we need to have it bleached or something before the party."

  "Oh, you are a hopeless case," Ev declared, shaking his head at me. "You're a catch," he added. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that."

  "He's literally the most eligible bachelor in the city, Ev. I think he's the catch."

  "Well, whatever. He was thinking about catching you."

  "He was thinking about having sex with me," I clarified. "There's a difference. And he wasn't even thinking about that enough to text or call or show up. So can we just let it drop?"

  "Fine. He also mentioned needing to know when the food was going to be delivered."

  "Sunday," I told him.

  "And let me guess, you expect me there?"

  "I promise, as soon as the check clears, you will get a bonus. And a raise."

  "Well, now you're speaking my language," he said, flicking around his Burberry scarf. "But you do realize you're going to need to be at the event, right?"

  I did realize that.

  I would even have to interact with him if I wanted my check.

  "Luckily, Grant hates socializing. He's going to spend most of the night in the little security room. I can avoid him by floating around most of the night. Then I can just demand our check, and get on with my life. Easy enough."

  "Aside from the spinach issue - and I called Aiden, and he said he can make do with romaine now that it is back on the shelves - were there any issues?" I asked Aiden on Sunday evening.

  "Aside from the especially grumbly Boss Man standing there glowering at me, you mean?"

  "You're acting as though that is something new for him."

  "He was especially grumbly."

  "Mhmm," I mumbled, trying not to let my mind think things like Maybe it is because of me or Maybe he wished it was me there instead of Evan.

  "He asked if you were working another job."

  "And you said?"

  "Of course not. That you were fully devoted to him."

  "You did not say that."

  "I said it."

  "Why?"

  "Let's call it an experiment."

  "Please, please don't use my romantic life as an experiment."

  "But it's so fun."

  "For you maybe. And for your information, he looked pleased at the idea."

  "Why are you pushing this so hard? We barely know each other."

  "You spent almost every day of, what, three weeks together. That is not barely. And according to you, the sex was smoking. Sue me for rooting for you."

  "We spent three weeks fighting," I reminded him. "It wasn't like we were having in-depth conversations about our hopes, dreams, political stances, socioeconomic aspirations. We argued over colors and dinnerware and music."

  "You know what foods he likes, music, colors, liquor. It's not everything, but it's a start. And, hey, you'd never have to worry about having your first fight. You've already had your first fifty."

  "It's not going to happen," I assured him, even if I had - in very weak moments - wondered if there was a possibility of something more. There was chemistry. There was no denying that. But in stronger moments, I knew it would never work. We were different people. We were from different worlds. It would never work.

  "Alright, alright. Fine. But he did make it a point to say he expects to see you there on New Year's Eve."

  "He used that word?" I really didn't even need to ask. It sounded just like him.

  "Mhmm."

  "Don't give me that look. Him being an ass isn't going to make me jump into a cab, go over there, and argue with him. Then end up in bed."

  "A man can dream," he said, moving over to plant a kiss to my temple. "Well, I will see you Monday."

  "Yes you will."

  And I would likely be awake until then, fretting that there was some tiny, minute, but important detail I might need to pull everything off. Then, of course, worrying myself sick about the inevitable interaction with Grant.

  "Damnit," I growled, halfway up my staircase on my way to my apartment, watching and hearing - and cringing at - my cell flopping down three flights of stairs since the freaking elevator was out once again. "That seems about right," I grumbled, going back down, grabbing the poor, cracked all to hell thing.

  Verizon was closed.

  I had no landline.

  So I just had to sit in my apartment and sweat until the morning, making myself sick over the idea that some catastrophe could be taking place, and I would have no way of knowing.
/>   I was waiting when the doors opened in the morning, impatiently standing by as my new phone was activated.

  "Woman, what the ever-loving hell?" Evan's voice barked at me when I could finally call him.

  "My phone broke. Is everything going to hell?" I asked, checking the time as I ran down the street toward the office, grabbing a box of decorations that somehow got sent to the office instead of the venue.

  "You have a chef who is baked off his ass, a dozen or so servers who have nothing to do but rain questions down on me, decorations I don't know how to hang up, a signature cocktail I don't know the recipe of to give to the bartenders to practice, and a club owner who is breathing down my neck thinking we are screwing up his payday."

  So, essentially, it was the day of a party.

  No matter how well you laid the plans - and I was rather meticulous if I do say so myself - the day of was always wrought with complications, with stress. And this was amplified by having a bigger staff, a larger venue, and a lot of money on the line.

  "I am seven minutes away," I promised him, throwing myself into a cab.

  "Did you grab your outfit for tonight?" he asked, and I could practically hear the brow raise. He'd been insistent about me not being able to wear my blazer and slacks to a New Year's Eve party where all the other women were sure to be in dresses.

  "I have it. But I really don't think it is going to be necessary. Tell everyone to stay calm."

  "Alright, I talked to the boss lady," Ev's voice called to the room at large, making me wince. "So everyone just needs to calm the Eff down!"

  I hung up as he continued to lecture the staff, trying to calm the frantic pounding of my heart, knowing that the boss' mood set the tone for the whole staff. I needed to project calm and collected and confident. Even if I didn't feel any of those things.

  They said if you faked it well enough, you would feel it.

  So, I was going to fake those things for the staff.

  Then, well, fake unaffected around Grant.

  I was fairly certain I could handle the former.

  The latter, well, that was less clear.

  SEVEN

  - Reuniting

  Sometimes, Ev had a penchant for over-exaggerating.

  Unfortunately, in this situation, he had been pretty on-point.

  Without focus, everyone had sectioned off into little cliques, each one of them having a queen - or king - bee who, thanks to the vote of confidence by their peers, thought it would be appropriate to give me shit when I got there to try to focus everyone.

  None of the decorations had been hung, or even the floors swept or mopped even though the cleaning staff had been there when I got there.

  Aiden was sleeping off whatever he had smoked or snorted or whatever. Right there on the stainless steel island, clutching a bushel of carrots to his chest like a teddy bear.

  At least the bartenders picked up on the recipe quickly.

  That was one thing off my list.

  "That's right," Evan called out as people finally started falling into line, as the empty, ugly nightclub became something else entirely, something festive, bright and dark at the same time, something begging everyone to have a good time. "I told you that she'd be cracking the whip when she got here! Girl," he said, voice lower so only I could hear. "What the hell is going on with your hair?"

  "What?" I asked, reaching up to pat the messy bun. "I'm working."

  "And Mr. Boss Man is going to show up any minute now and see you looking all sweaty and boxy," he grumbled, tugging at my blazer.

  "I'm not trying to impress him."

  Okay, even as I said it, I knew it was only half true.

  I could feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back, knew my hair was probably half falling out of the bun, that my mascara likely needed to be swiped off the skin under my eyes.

  And, no, I didn't want Mr. Boss Man to see me looking a wreck.

  "Everyone is working their magic. The DJ is unloading his equipment as we speak. The Photo Booth is set up. You can go take a few minutes to get yourself ready. The doors open in..." he paused, flipping his arm over to reveal one of his platinum watches. "Two hours."

  Already?

  Time was flying.

  It had been Grant's idea to open the doors at six-thirty, just early enough to get a drink in them for half an hour before Aiden would start serving the buffet which would line their stomachs for all the future binge drinking.

  And speaking of, if we were that close, I was actually really surprised Grant hadn't shown up already.

  Maybe I could go and get myself cleaned up a little bit in the staff bathroom off the kitchen. I would perform better if I felt better.

  "Oh, and I left you a pair of heels and some makeup refreshers in the bathroom too," Ev told me when he somehow managed to read my acceptance in my face.

  "What? Why? The dress was generous enough of you." And I was suddenly more than a little worried that I hadn't taken it out and looked at it before I grabbed it. But, worse case, I could wear my blazer over it.

  "You can add them to my bonus," he told me with a smirk. "I will keep cracking the whip for you."

  "Alright. I'll be back in ten minutes," I promised, making my way through the kitchen where Aiden was suddenly up, steadily chopping lettuce.

  "Hey there, boss lady," he called, waving his knife at me in greeting. "Sorry I assed out on you back there. There were three dorm parties going on last night, I parked the truck there. Was slinging tacos until four a.m." It also explained where the pot likely came from. Knowing him, he took that as payment. "But I am right on schedule. No worries. Everything will be ready in time."

  "Sounds great. Thank you. It's probably good you got a little power nap. It's going to be a late night."

  "Got any resolutions?"

  "The same one I've had since I came to the city. To grow my business."

  "Good goal, boss lady, good goal. Me, I want to learn Spanish. Go down south of the border, get some hands-on practice with my culinary superiors. You know, homemaking grandmas and whatnot."

  "Sounds like a great goal," I told him, letting myself into the cramped staff bathroom, thankful for the cool as I stripped out of my layers, wiping some of the stickiness off my skin with paper towels before reaching up to let my hair down, combing it through, thankful I had put it up when it was damp because it dried with some waves, making the elastic band wrinkle not as obvious.

  Reaching in the bag, I pulled out a dress I knew as black, but hadn't known would be quite so short, quite so tight, quite so low-cut.

  "Oh, I'm gonna kill him," I grumbled as I stepped into the material that slid up like a second skin. It felt oddly intimate, like sliding on lingerie after shaving and smearing lotion all over yourself. Luxurious and sexy. The built-in bra made my breasts lift, spilling a bit more over the bodice than I was comfortable with, but with a little tugging, I managed to get the hemline to come down a bit more at least. The shoes were black, sky-high, icepicks that I was sure would make my ankles ache by the end of the night, but I slipped my feet in regardless, touched up my makeup, then attempted to roll the tension out of my shoulders before stashing my clothes in a locker in the break room, and making my way back into the kitchen.

  "Work it," Aiden called as I moved through the room, smelling cumin and hot sauce and onions frying.

  I have to admit, that put a little smirk on my lips and spring in my step as I moved out into the club, hearing the music playing - not on all the speakers, but loud enough that the staff seemed to have perked up, smiling while they worked.

  The bartenders were chopping massive amounts of fruit.

  The servers were setting up the buffets.

  Everything was falling into place.

  Evan's gaze caught mine from across the room, fanning himself.

  But then something made his eyes go a little wicked.

  I didn't have to turn to know that Grant had finally made an appearance.

  I took a breath, and then,
well, made a bee-line for the nearest server, pretending like I needed to give very important instructions to them about glass cleanup.

  Evan hadn't been wrong.

  I was a chickenshit.

  I kept my eyes downcast, but chanced a look over to find him looking at me for a long moment before moving away, not to be seen again while the preparations finished.

  When the doors opened, he magically reappeared, greeting some of his staff with handshakes and - and had I not seen him schmooze Chef Nicolas, would have found this incredibly uncharacteristic - giving them all big smiles, acting like they were all the best of friends.

  It was easy to get lost once the floors started filling up, once people started having questions for me or needed a hand here and there.

  Before I knew it, we were closing in on eleven, the energy in the building heightened, ready to explode when the countdown finally began.

  I could feel it too, despite the fact that I knew that when the moment came, I would feel that sinking sensation in my belly as everyone around me kissed and wished one another a great year.

  Alone in a room full of people.

  I couldn't think of anything more depressing.

  I noticed that even Ev had snuck a date in after the door closed.

  I was happy for him.

  Even if I was feeling a teeny bit sorry for myself.

  "Are you done avoiding me?"

  I had felt a body press in behind me, but the place was packed, bodies pressing against your body started to feel normal and not invasive after a while. I hadn't thought anything of it.

  But now that I knew it was him, I could feel the heat from his body warming my back, the way his hip brushed my ass, the arms that moved out, grabbing the railing of the balcony on either side of me, caging me in.

  "Don't," I demanded, but my voice was too small, too weak.

  "Don't what?" His body had curled downward slightly, his lips near my ear.

  "Do this. Here."

  "Where else should I do it then? Since you're avoiding me. Not very professional of you, I might add."

  I had a feeling he was saying that on purpose, just to get a rise out of me. I knew this even as I felt my spine stiffening, my jaw tensing. "Evan was always here when my company needed to be represented."