AllFreeNovel
Share Us
You’re really not, I thought as Reagan’s teasing smile flashed through my brain.
“Three heads are better than one,” I said firmly. “If you’re worried about space, don’t. There’s plenty of room for both of you. If you need additional privacy, you’re welcome to take the bedroom, and I can sleep in a bunk.”
Her voice was tight but cordial when she responded. “That won’t be necessary. Won’t be my first time on the company coach. First time we’ll be together for this long, though. It’ll be nice, won’t it?”
The swish of paper towels stopped. McGee’s eyes met mine again as his eyebrow ring lifted. I waved him back to his task.
“Layla, I need to go. My next meeting is about to start. Let me know what happens with the flu test,” I said before disconnecting the call.
Well, that didn’t go as planned, I thought. Followed quickly by, Please let her still be testing positive. Which was a horrible thought.
McGee slid into Reagan’s empty booth seat and widened his eyes, not even pretending he hadn’t heard the entire conversation. “She’s intense, Thatcher. Too intense. It’s creepy.”
“Not creepy,” I argued, though his opinion about her intensity confirmed my own. “She’s objectively excellent at her job, and I’m fortunate she’s part of my team. She might be a bit opinionated, but only because she’s dedicated. Enthusiastic.”
I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince, but McGee wasn’t buying it. “Enthusiastic about you, maybe. She’d like to be the next Mrs. Pennington.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She knows that’s not a position I’m looking to fill, ever.” It was none of McGee’s business, but in an attempt to silence him, I added, “Look, Layla tried to start something once, years ago. I declined, and we both laughed it off. She’s not interested in me that way anymore.”
“Mmm, sure. The same way you’re not interested in the kid?”
It was too much to hope McGee hadn’t noticed. With one eyebrow popped, I stared him down. “If Reagan were here, he’d tell you meddling causes fine lines and wrinkles.”
McGee grinned unrepentantly and kicked my foot under the table. “You like him. I knew it from, like, minute one, even when you were trying to pretend you didn’t. He pissed you off. Got under your skin. But now you like him fine.”
I focused on my laptop again. “I like that he’s good for business. Because he’s my employee.”
He kicked me again, harder this time. “You like him. And don’t give me excuses about being his boss. There’s probably five levels of management between you two.”
In fact, there were only two managers between us: Layla, as head of the PennCo Fiber subsidiary, and Stephen Price, PennCo’s head of PR. In most other Pennington subsidiaries, there would have been more—four or five—but PennCo was small, and Layla liked to be closely involved with her teams. It worked well, so I’d never had reason to give the hierarchy any thought… until the morning after Reagan and I slept together.
“Besides,” McGee added, “that shit only matters if you’re taking advantage of a power imbalance. As far as I can see, the fact that his dad is well-connected evens the playing field.”
“Right. Obviously. Those two gigantic complications cancel each other out.” I rolled my eyes. “I had no idea I employed a certified relationship expert, McGee. How fortunate I am.”
“Hey, I read articles. Lots of articles,” McGee said loftily. “Aren’t you the one who told me education was the path to success back when I was younger?”
“Yes, and I’m sure this was precisely what I had in mind.” I waved him off. “Go away. I have a meeting, and you should be catching up on sleep.”
“I didn’t know if I liked him at first,” McGee continued, ignoring me.
I huffed, exasperated. “Yes, so you said the first day. And then he insulted you, and now you’re BFFs who communicate exclusively through insults. It’s a heartwarming story.”
“Nah, I mean, I thought he was funny and all, but I could tell you were into him, and you were acting all squirrelly about New Year’s Eve. I wasn’t sure if I could vibe with the two of you… you know, getting it on. ’Cause that’s a whole different thing.”
“We’re not—” I insisted.
“But then, I saw how he looked at you, and I changed my mind.” McGee paused for a long moment while I looked at him expectantly, and then he braced one tattooed hand on the table and pushed himself up. “Buuuut… you’ve got that meeting, so I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.”
I opened my mouth. Shut it again. I would regret this. I already regretted it. “How does he look at me?” I demanded.
McGee sat back in his seat and smiled smugly. “Like he’s a hungry man and you’re one of those disgusting yogurts he keeps in the fridge. Like he wants to eat you alive.”
A vivid image of Reagan curling his tongue around his yogurt spoon flashed through my brain, and I squirmed involuntarily. “Nonsense. He’s… he’s my son’s age.” Though I didn’t know what that had to do with anything.
“Still older than me,” McGee reminded me cheerily. “And age is about the only thing he has in common with Brant. Last summer or the summer before, looking at Reagan from a distance, I might have said different. He was kind of a troublemaker, just like I used to be. But I think he’s straightened out now. Somebody gave him a chance to do a job, and he gives a shit about it. I feel that.” He patted his own chest, then shrugged. “Besides, you said Reagan practically handed you that medical company deal on a silver platter because you let him talk, right? That’s not kid stuff.”
This was true. The meeting in Colorado Springs yesterday had been with the owner of a small medical supply company that I’d been trying to acquire. For two years, our lawyers had negotiated terms, but over and over, the owner had killed the deal at the last minute for no discernible reason. Then, at lunch yesterday, Reagan had spent a solid half hour discussing the man’s love of floral arranging, charming him with descriptions of Honeybridge’s annual Box Day event, and making him howl with laughter over stories of his mother’s incessant need to cheat by bringing in flower-box experts to win the grand prize. The signed contracts had been emailed to me last night, along with a sincere thank-you note for “the most delightful business lunch I’ve ever had.”
