Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Set a timer,” she advised. “You know how you get.”
I spared her a brief, wry smile. “Not a chance in hell.”
Mrs. Flannigan sighed and pulled my door shut. She knew as well as Julian how I felt about the holidays, and she knew I’d be happy to miss the entire happy hour if I could get away with it. I couldn’t, though. Julian made sure of that. Just before six, he was rapping at my office door. He’d clearly hit the party first because he had a martini glass in his hand and the glow of a man who had gotten too many compliments on his ugly ass tie.
I shook my head in disgust, but I couldn’t help smiling a little. “That is one ugly tie.”
He gave me the finger with his free hand and jerked his head toward the elevator. “Come on. I signed up for karaoke, and I don’t want to miss my turn.”
I started to rise, but an email I hadn’t answered yet caught my attention. “I’ll be right there,” I swore, but the next time I looked up, it had been about five minutes, and Julian was gone. One of us was going to have a good time at this happy hour.
At six-fifteen, I finally got on the elevator to head down to the bar that was right across the street from our building. We rented it out every year, mostly because the location was ideal. A few years ago, we’d had to lay out a strict no returning to work policy because analysts were heading back to their desks hammered and making questionable decisions. I figured everyone would be at the happy hour already, so I was surprised when the elevator pulled to a halt on the fifth floor.
But not as surprised as Selena was when the elevator doors slid open and she saw me waiting inside. Her face registered pure shock, and she froze for so long the doors began to slide back together. I jammed my arm against one side and pushed them open again. “Come on,” I said impatiently.
Selena stepped on reluctantly and hugged the opposite side of the small carriage, staring straight ahead. I noticed she had her car keys dangling from her fingers.
“You’re not going to the happy hour?” I asked.
She looked over at me, startled. “I–no. I’m going to meet Mrs. Kloss.”
She tried to hide it, but I detected an undertone of weariness.
“You’re going to meet Mrs. Kloss on a Friday night instead of going to the company happy hour?” I studied her blurred reflection in the elevator door. I thought she looked tired. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Mrs. Kloss was monopolizing all her free time. The widow was voraciously social and still, somehow, lonely.
“She wants my sister and me to go to the catering tasting with her.” Selena tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’ll be fun.”
The elevator let us out into the lobby, but I wasn’t done with this conversation. I put myself between Selena and the door and gave her a quick once over. She almost looked the same as she always did. Golden brown hair in a long, straight sheet to her mid back. Wide brown eyes in a pale, heart-shaped face. Perfect lips. Curves that her tailored blazer didn’t hide. Rubies winked in her earlobes. But when I looked closer, there were shadows underneath her eyes. She was fucking exhausted.
“This is bullshit,” I said. “You aren’t going to this tasting. I’ll tell the old lady you had to work late.”
Selena’s eyebrows slanted together as her mouth turned down in a scowl. “The hell you are. I told you I could do both jobs, and I am.”
Irritation sprung up, fully formed and fully charged, like it was already in my bloodstream and just waiting for an excuse to boil to the surface. “I told you that this job came first,” I snapped. “Blowing off company events to taste pastries isn’t doing both jobs.”
“A company event!” Selena waved her hand in the direction of the bar. The lobby lights were dim; everyone was across the street, so we could see them clearly through the tall, glowing windows of the bar. It looked like they were having a rollicking good time. I could hear the faint pulse of music. “It’s just a happy hour!”
“Yeah, and it’s the only one we have all year,” I said determinedly. “It’s a networking opportunity.”
Selena stared at me like she was sure I couldn’t be serious. I wasn’t even sure myself. I just knew that I was pissed she was blowing off the happy hour for Mrs. Kloss. If I had to suffer, she sure as hell did too. “Listen,” I said, “if you can’t handle both, I’ll call Mrs. Kloss right now–”
“No!” Selena shook her head, frustration suffusing her features. “I’ll tell Mrs. Kloss I had to work late. My sister will still go with her.”