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“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, stroking my arm before he steps away.
I sit down at the nearest free table and reach down to rummage through my purse for my phone. I smile when I see three messages from Peyton.
Peyton: Everything okay?
Peyton: Lemme know if you need me to fake a death in the family to get you out of there.
Peyton: If you don’t reply in five minutes, I’m coming in to save you.
Laughing, I quickly tap out a reply to assure her I’m safe and then shove my phone back into my bag. I look around, taking in all the happy faces and laughter that fills the air. I glance back at the bar where Jake is standing, deep in conversation with the chick behind the bar. I frown as I watch her lean over a little farther, clearly trying to guide his vision to her ample cleavage. He laughs at something she says, but instead of feeling jealous, or even slightly annoyed, I feel nothing.
What the hell am I doing here? Even watching other girls checking him out isn't stirring anything inside me. It’s the complete opposite reaction to watching blondie flirt with Chase earlier today. Why can't I get him out of my head?
“Sorry, I couldn’t get away.”
I look up as Jake returns to the table, carrying our drinks. He sits down and slides my wine across the table to me, his eyes burning through mine. He smiles at me just as I attempt to stifle a yawn. Which is a great indication of how this is going. Somehow, I manage to successfully turn it into a smirk.
“Thanks,” I say, picking up my drink. I swallow a mouthful, hoping it will relax me. Or at the very least, make me feel less out of place.
“So, what do you do for work again?” he asks. He sounds genuinely interested, and I feel bad for feeling so ‘meh’ about this.
“I'm a junior assistant over at WPC,” I say. I have to force myself to focus on him, or my attention will span elsewhere.
“Right. I think I've heard of the guy who runs that place. I’m pretty sure my sister went out with him for a bit last year. She thinks he’s a bit of a cockhead,” Jake says.
I giggle. Of course, Chase went out with Jake’s sister. That’s just perfect.
“He has a bit of a reputation for being difficult to get along with,” I agree with a smile. “Honestly, I don't see him all that much. I'm only a junior assistant, which means I'm his assistant’s assistant.”
“The fact that his assistant needs help tells me either she’s incredibly incompetent or he has an ego the size of Texas,” he says with a laugh. “Honestly, I’m just shocked that's even a thing.”
“Apparently, it is,” I say. “Chase has a lot of important tasks he needs to have done, ranging from collecting his dry cleaning to fetching his coffee. They’re jobs that are almost always allocated down the ranks, to me.”
“Wow,” Jake says, shaking his head in dismay. “So why do you work there, then? Surely there are other jobs you could get. I could put in a good word for you at the gym if you want. The reception is always looking for casual staff,” he suggests.
“Thanks,” I say, not wanting to point out how overqualified for that position I am. “I guess I'm just holding out hope that he sees my potential one day. My dream is to get into property analytics, and Chase’s firm is one of the best property consultant firms in the country. That’s the only thing that’s kept me there for the last two years.”
“Well, you’re dedicated, I’ll give you that,” he says, admiration in his eyes. “Just don’t let him take advantage of you.”
I jump as his hand reaches out and strokes mine. He slides his finger along the back of my hand, smirking at me. I smile back, and then ease my hand away, disguising the rejection as the need for another drink. I gulp it down, emptying my glass, which he apparently finds amusing.
“Are you nervous or something?” he teases.
“Maybe slightly,” I admit. Though the alcohol certainly is helping. “It's been a while since I've been out on a date.”
I cringe at my confession. I probably shouldn't go around admitting that, or I’ll sound inexperienced and naïve. Both of which I definitely am. He flags down a waitress and orders me another drink, watching with amusement as I drink that one down too. Somewhere over the course of the evening, I begin to loosen up. That may or may not be connected to the number of drinks I consume.For the next couple of hours, we just talk and flirt, until before I know it, it’s nearly four in the morning, which is impressive, because I’ve never been in a bar that’s open that late—not that I go to many bars. I’m pretty shocked that we found things to talk about for so long, and I’m even more shocked that I’m still awake. Other than a few sneaky strokes of my thigh under the table, he hasn’t tried anything. I hate to admit it, but I’ve actually enjoyed myself—even if half our conversation subjects have revolved around Chase.
