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I step forward and hold out my hand. She smiles and tips her head as we shake on it. She thinks she’s getting off easy. I have no doubt she was imagining something much more torrid.
“Derek Knightley, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
There’s a twinkle in her eyes. It’s sweet.
The fact that I don’t kiss her senseless in that moment is something I should be extremely proud of.
When we reemerge in the living room a moment later, I see the guys have taken it upon themselves to rearrange the poker table. There’s a fifth chair pulled up between Nick and Allen. No doubt they’ve also skimmed a few chips off my stacks and looked at my hand.
“Whitney, c’mon,” Nick says. “We’ll teach you how to play.”
Without pausing, I reach for her shoulders and direct her toward the door.
“Sorry, Whitney has to go.”
She laughs at me over her shoulder. “What? Can’t I stay and play?”
“Not tonight.”
“Come on, man! Fair is fair,” Allen groans. “You two were only back there for five minutes. Looks like Whitney here made her choice and it ain’t you.”
“That’s right. Whitney, come take a seat and I’ll show you the ropes. I’m Nick, Derek’s much cooler friend. Just ask him—he’ll tell you I kicked his ass in the last three rounds.”
I flip them the bird and they all laugh.
“Nick’s full of shit,” Allen argues. “I’m a much better teacher.”
“I have always wanted to learn,” Whitney calls back to them as I steer her into the foyer.
If she thinks I’m going to sit around while my friends throw their hats in the ring for her attention, she’s wrong. I’m not a masochist.
“Cal tried to teach me a few years back,” she says with a smirk.
This only spurs them on.
“Whitney’s going home now,” I insist. “Say goodbye.”
“Goodbye Whitney!” Thomas and Nick call out in unison.
“Bye Whitney!” Allen singsongs.
“Colorful crew you have there,” she teases.
“Why do you think I’m accepting your offer of friendship? I plan on ditching them after tonight.”
I unlock the door and hold it open for her.
She grins. “They seem nice enough. I actually know Thomas from work. You know, while he’s here, you should pick his brain about Carrie.”
“What about her? He’s in love with her, if that’s what you mean.”
Her jaw drops.
I nod like it’s old news.
“Why hasn’t he done anything about it?!”
I arch a brow. Yes, why hasn’t he done anything about it, Whitney?
She closes her mouth and rocks back on her heels, nodding in silent understanding.
I shrug. “If it’s meant to be, they’ll figure it out eventually.”
Her jade eyes lock with mine. Vulnerable and gentle, they confirm what I already know.“How are you and Whitney getting on?” Cal asks me the next day, over lunch.
“Splendidly. Best buds now, in fact.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh yeah. Thick as thieves.”
“You sound bitter.”
“Do I?”
He hums and decides it’s best to change topics. “I’ve had feedback from the board.”
I lean back in my chair, schooling to my features into cool indifference.
“Barry tells me even your staunchest critics are impressed with the role you’ve taken on. I know you think this is all a waste of time, but it is working. The board sees you getting down on the same level as your employees, earning their respect. It shows a level of integrity and care. In a few weeks, when I inform them of my plan to promote you, I know the vote will be unanimous. This work isn’t in vain. Remember that.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing any of this for them.”
To be honest, I’m not quite sure why I’m doing it anymore. I tell myself it’s for the betterment of the company, an invaluable experience I’ll carry with me as I take the reins from Cal. But, if I’m honest, I might also be stepping into that costume every day just so I can spend time with Whitney.
I don’t delve deeper into that thought.
Friday afternoon, there’s an hour between the end of my shift as His Royal Highness and the start of parade rehearsals. After the last family leaves the great hall, I start to leave, planning to head to my office, then Whitney calls out to me.
“Do you have to work before rehearsals?”
I pause. Curious.
Her smile is self-conscious. She nibbles on her lip. “Because if not, we could go get a bite to eat?”
I hesitate before replying. I should hunker down somewhere with my laptop and take a pickaxe to the mountain of unread emails in my inbox, but there’s no way I’ll turn her down.
“As friends,” she clarifies, as if that’s my issue. Then she walks toward me and pokes me in the stomach. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
“Starved.”
“All right, c’mon. I know a place.”
We agree to meet in the Underground after we’ve changed out of our costumes. When I spot her again, she’s wearing leggings and a Nike crop top, blue sneakers and a high ponytail.
