AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Pop glanced at me in surprise. “You know, I don’t believe I ever did. But then… telling a man he’s important is all well and good, but showing ’em they’re important, the way Reagan does… well, that’s a different and better thing altogether, isn’t it?”
It was. Assuming you were the sort of person who knew how to do that.
Pop slapped his hands to his knees and pushed to his feet with effort. He threw my empty juice bottle in a recycling container and put my candy in a bag.
“I don’t think I want to know what you’d nickname me,” I said as I pulled a twenty out of my wallet.
He hit a button on the big register that made the cash drawer open with a satisfying ding. “That remains to be seen,” he told me seriously, handing me my change. “But I sure hope you’re around long enough for me to figure it out.”
After I said goodbye and took my candy haul, I stepped out into the cold and texted McGee to come and get me. Despite it being just after five o’clock, the sky overhead was already a dusky gray-blue, and what little sunlight remained had gathered into a single white-gold band above the treetops on the west side of town. My breath fogged the air, and I huddled deeper into my coat. I hadn’t anticipated how much colder it would be when the sun was gone.
Missing Reagan was like a visceral ache, even knowing that he was only across town, and sleeping across the hall from him tonight was just too damn far. I still couldn’t puzzle out how he and I would work once the tour ended, but… hadn’t I been telling everyone who’d listen how damn brilliant and creative Reagan was? How he had a different perspective on the world than I did? So, I’d talk to him. I’d tell him what I wanted and what I feared. I’d listen when he talked—with no limitations, this time, on what was appropriate for me to hear, as his boss, since I wanted to be a hell of a lot more to him than merely his boss. I’d apologize for what happened with Brant earlier and thank him for taking care of the situation when I couldn’t. And then I’d ask what Reagan wanted for us… or whether he still wanted there to be an us at all.
It was scary as fuck, no two ways about it. I had more money than I could spend in a lifetime, and with that came a certain amount of power to make things go my way. But one thing I could not control—or even predict half the time—was the sexy, silver-tongued little shit who’d managed to steal my heart.
When McGee finally pulled up in the rental car, I slid into the passenger seat and handed him the toffee bar. Sunglasses covered his eyes despite the gathering darkness. “Ooof. How’s the face?”
“Fine. Been a minute since I’ve had my bell rung like that, but it looks worse than it feels. And Reagan says the black eyes hide the crow’s feet.” He grinned. “So there’s that.”
My quick bark of laughter caught me by surprise, and some of the stress of my day fell away. “How is Reagan?” I asked McGee. “Did anything else happen with Brant?”
He snorted. “Brantleigh’s sleeping it off in your bed, last I heard. And Reagan… he looks rough. Dealing with his parents, then Brant, then Layla… it’s a lot.” McGee darted a glance at me. “Not the best condition for flying out.”
“Uh-huh.” My chest was so busy twisting in sympathy it took a minute for my brain to catch up. “Wait, flying out? Reagan? When? To where?”
“I freaking knew you didn’t know,” McGee muttered in disgust. “Layla sent him to the hinterlands of Wisconsin. He took off like half an hour ago. I was on my way back from delivering him to the private airport when you texted.”
My heart rate kicked up, but every third or fourth beat hit wrong. My lungs expanded and contracted, but they didn’t seem to be doing a decent job of getting enough oxygen in. “Why?” I asked stupidly.
“You want the real reason or the bullshit reason? Because Layla claimed that he was the only person who could possibly go to whatever event you guys canceled in Madison, but I don’t believe that for a hot second.” His voice was hard and uncompromising.
I rolled down the window until the bitter wind stung the skin on my face. “So what’s the real reason?” I was pretty sure I knew what he was going to say, and I didn’t want to hear it, but I thought maybe I needed to.
“She’s jealous. And no, I don’t think she knows you and Reagan are getting it on,” he added quickly. “She doesn’t know you well enough to even suspect that. But she knows you like him. She knows you listen to him and respect his opinions. And she feels threatened by that.”
I thought about it for a long moment, really considered it, but still shook my head. “I’m not brushing you off this time, I promise, but I just don’t see it.”
“You probably can’t see it because you’ve known her a long time, and you’ve mentally put her in the platonic column. You don’t see her as a potential romantic partner… and she knows it.” He slowed down as we approached the Wellbridges’ house. “So, like, how do you get a person to un-friend-zone you? Well, first, you make them notice you. If they’ve got a dog, you become the dog’s best friend. If they’re into rock climbing, you watch a few YouTube videos, strap on a chalk bag, and then show them pictures of you free climbing in Acadia.” He affected a bored tone. “Oh, you didn’t know I was a climber, Reggie? Ha ha ha! Goodness, yes. Been climbing for years. We should climb together sometime!”
“Jesus,” I muttered.
“And if the person you want is your boss,” McGee went on in his normal voice, “a mother-freaking billionaire who’s been quoted a dozen times saying that his company is his priority…” He pulled his sunglasses off and looked at me expectantly.
I groaned, running a hand over my face. “You show me how competent you are at your job. How I couldn’t possibly get along without you.”
“Ding, ding, ding. You might decide that an in-person bus trip—so cozy, just the two of you, with plenty of opportunity to show your dedication and brilliance—would be the perfect way to handle a PR crisis. You might be righteously pissed when little Reagan Wellbridge, the most peon of peons, steals your thunder.”
“He didn’t steal—” I began hotly.
“Obvs. But from Layla’s point of view? She was sidelined in the playoff game. And she thought the dude you were taking was, like, the team mascot, except it turned out the guy could throw a perfect spiral. Suddenly, you’re giving him the nuclear launch codes for the social media shit and ruining the big reveal of her strategy. And then, when Layla finally joined you, you were like, ‘Nah, I’m keeping Reagan with me ’cause he’s just so talented. Screw your seduction game.’”
As the truth of what he was saying hit me, I concentrated on breathing in and out. I’d recognized parts of this before—January had told me plainly that Layla was feeling replaced, and I’d realized on my own that Layla resented having her social media ideas upstaged by Reagan’s, but hearing it laid out like this was eye-opening. How had I not seen it before?
“Fuck,” I said succinctly.
“Yep. That about sums it up,” McGee agreed. “So what are you gonna do now?”
I laughed weakly and closed the window to spare McGee the frigid temperature. “About Layla? I was already planning to speak to her about her management style. I’ll be looping HR in on that meeting. About Reagan…?” I shook my head. “This is yet another thing I’ll be apologizing for next time I see him. He tried to tell me some things about Layla the other day, but I was too concerned about the propriety of him tattling on his boss to hear him out. Fuck,” I said again. “How long is he gone? When will he be back?”
