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“Besides, don’t you think whatever you’re about to do would be done better in the dark?”
“Meredith,” Simon hisses.
I ignore him.
“And with less witnesses around…”
James blinks in surprise and for a second I’m afraid I’ve lost him, that I’ve gone too far.
“Give me the phone,” Simon whispers angrily, but I jerk away from his grasp.
James is staring off in the distance as if he’s in thought. Then his lips curve into a slow, almost seductive smile. “I suppose you’re right.”
I’ve planted a seed, and I have no clue what it’s going to grow into and I don’t care. For the moment, the disaster seems to be averted, and that’s all that really matters right now.
“I always am…” I drawl out and then chuckle to show him I’m not really serious.
“Was that Simon I heard in the background?” he asks as he climbs back in his car.
“Yes,” I sigh.
“He sounded pissed,” James chuckles and shuts his car door.
“Oh, he is.”
“You should help him yank that stick out of his ass,” he says as he starts his car.
“Unfortunately, I’m not a miracle worker,” I respond dryly.
James laughs and throws his car in gear.
“Look, James, I need to go. But if there’s anything you need… anything at all, don’t be afraid to call me.”
“I just dial Simon, right?”
Ugh. “Yes.”
“Alright. I will.”
“Goodbye, James.”
James’s grin grows and his voice has a slight husky quality to it as he says, “Goodbye, Meredith.”
13
Meredith
Simon yanks his phone out of my hand. Yeah, I pissed him off and I’m probably going to get it now.
I tense up, expecting him to grab me or do something to hurt me. His arm flexes around me and he lets out a long sigh.
Then he asks, “How did you do that?”
I blink in surprise. “Do what?”
He leans forward, forcing me to lean with him, and sets the phone down on his desk then motions to the screen. “That. How did you talk him out of acting stupid when you don’t even know him?”
On the screen, James is pulling his car out into the street. He glances briefly towards the group of young people once last time then speeds off.
I lean back against Simon as he leans back and consider the best way to answer him.
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “I read all his cues, and then just ran with them.”
Simon makes an irritated sound. “What cues?”
Is he really that oblivious?
“Are you recording this?”
“No, of course not,” Simon grumbles. “It would be a waste of resources.”
“Okay,” I drawl out. “That will make explaining this a little bit more difficult, but we can work with it. Do you remember when you first started spying on him, and he was ranting and raving?”
“Yes,” Simon says impatiently.
“Well, that was the first cue right there. He clearly was upset about something.”
“Obviously,” Simon snarls, but I don’t take it personally. This entire situation is no doubt frustrating the hell out of him. I don’t know how the fuck he’s survived this long if he doesn’t know how to read people though. “But how did you know what he was upset about?”
“I didn’t know. I still don’t know.”
“Then how the fuck…”
I smirk and shake my head. “I used his body language to make a lot of assumptions. I had a fifty-fifty chance of being right…”
“So it came down to luck then?”
“Yes, and…” I trail off with a snicker.
“And?” Simon asks pointedly.
“Well, it was easy to pick up on his dislike for you. Really, you should be nicer to your men.”
Simon snorts against the top of my head, fluttering my hair, but I sense his body beginning to relax.
“He either changed his mind because I talked some sense into him. Or he did it simply because he picked up on how pissed off you were that I was talking to him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m more inclined to believe he stopped what he was doing and heeded my so-called advice because he knew it would piss you off. As opposed to trusting a complete stranger he’s never met.”
“Meredith…” Simon growls.
“Are you almost done here?” I ask and purposely squirm on his lap.
His chin hits the top of my head and I listen to him take a deep, calming breath. “Yes,” he says.
Arm rubbing against my arm, he grabs the mouse and clicks a few times. The image on the screen changes.
“Another one of your men?” I ask as a man with long hair and a thick beard appears on the screen. I think I recognize him from Christmas at Matthew’s, and he helped Simon today with his car, but again, for the life of me I can’t remember his name.
“Yes,” Simon answers simply, not providing a name.
The man with the beard is tossing a baseball with a young boy in what appears to be a backyard.
I yawn and snuggle closer to Simon, bored off my ass watching them.
