Page 61 of Tell Me Something

“If you hang up on me again—”

I cut him off. “Unless your next words are I’m sorry, I have nothing more to say to you.”

“What in the hell was I supposed to think with your high-end clothes and a new outfit every damn day and then to hear that they were all designer—”

I hung up on him again. It felt good to switch off my phone entirely. I gulped down my cider, and the bartender poured me another one.

“On the house, love. That sounded brutal. My name is Greg.”

“Nice to meet you, Greg.” I smiled, and we spent the next hour laughing about some of the differences between American and English customs. I was in an exceptional fit of giggles over the word fanny, which meant something entirely different in London and was quite offensive—it described female genitalia—when I saw Josh walk in.

He was still dressed in his tux, but his tie was undone. He looked both pissed and sexy as hell.

“Uh, Greg, it was nice meeting you. Thank you for saving my night,” I muttered, pulling out some bills to pay my tab.

He glanced toward Josh. “Boyfriend?”

“No. Worse, I’m afraid. He’s my pissed-off boss.” I smiled at Greg one last time and stepped around Josh and out the door.

He followed me, walking in silence next to me into the lobby of hotel.

The front desk clerk smiled. “Oh, good, you found her.”

I gave her a tight smile, and we went up in the elevator in more silence.

He still hadn’t spoken to me by the time we got up to our rooms, but the tension was palpable. I went through my door, closing it behind me, and then directly into my bathroom. I planned to take a quick shower and go to bed. If he wanted to ignore me the rest of the night, that suited me fine.

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear I was getting such a reprieve. He strode into my room through the connecting door without even a knock.

“I am so pissed off, it’s probably for the best if we don’t speak tonight.”

Then why was he coming into my room? “You’re pissed off at me? You’ve got to be kidding. How hard is it to say you’re fucking sorry, Josh?”

“I’m not the one who took off in a foreign city and then hung up on me twice. And what was with the bartender?”

I threw my hands up, not believing his audacity. “And what’s with Catherine and you?”

That got my point across. I saw his jaw clench.

“I’m not playing tit for tat. You’re at the bar picking up on men, and I’m out searching for you, having to ask the front desk where you went. By the way, why did you need a pharmacy?”

The change of subject took me completely off guard. “What?”

“The pharmacy. The clerk said you asked for directions. What did you need there?”

His gall knew no bounds. “You know what? I’m not sure what hurts most: the fact that you would honestly believe I’m squandering my money on designer clothes even after I told you I’m saving for law school, or that you would say something like that in front of someone I’d just met and respect, even if you for a moment thought it was true. You humiliated me, and then you add insult to injury by being pissed off at me because I needed a moment. I wasn’t hitting on anyone tonight. I was only being friendly with the bartender. And now you’re demanding to know what I purchased at a pharmacy. I can’t even—”

“I’m sorry,” he cut me off, saying it softly. “Oh, shit, Haylee. Please don’t cry.”

I wiped my eyes, knowing I was being overly emotional but unable to help it. I let him engulf me in a hug and sighed. “Why couldn’t you have said that at the party? I don’t understand it. You knew you were wrong, and yet you merely stood there.”

“I know. The only defense I have is that Catherine would have seen through it. You were standing there hurt, and I wasn’t sure how to apologize as a boss would to his employee. Hell, I don’t know if I’ve ever had to apologize to someone I work with before, especially in front of an audience. I froze, knowing I was completely over the line. Then on the phone I was worried and pissed off, so I didn’t say it. I told you I’m not good at them.”

I sighed, realizing this was new territory for him. Josh Singer, multi-millionaire and my boss, probably wouldn’t have commented to begin with, let alone have to say he was sorry. But it still smarted.

“Thank you for apologizing,” I accepted quietly.

“Now, will you tell me what you needed at the pharmacy?” The man was like a dog with a bone.