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“You didn’t need to make breakfast for me,” I reply.
“Saves on utilities by doing it all at the same time.” Megan uses the spatula to flip something over. “If you want to make yourself useful, Mr. Evans, you can make the coffee.”
For some reason, I don’t like her addressing me so formally. I watch her as she cooks, noticing how firm her backside looks in her jeans, her hair tied into her usual ponytail. There is tension in her body that isn’t going away. I wish I could make it leave.
Crossing to the coffee press, I hesitate before I start using it. I had a speech in my head the night before, and now I have no idea what to say. Not without falling over my words and sounding like an idiot.
What the hell is wrong with me? I can speak to complete strangers about difficult deals that they were not budging on, and yet I can’t talk to my personal assistant after we have an intimate moment.
Once I’ve made the coffee, I turn to see that Megan is serving breakfast. My mouth waters at the sight of what is in front of me. Bacon, fried eggs, fresh bread and potatoes, along with baked beans. Megan then sprinkles cheese on top of the beans.
She’s never cooked breakfast for me, yet she already knows what I like. She is the perfect personal assistant.
Bracing myself, I put the coffee mugs on the center island. “Megan…”
“Don’t leave it for too long, Mr. Evans.” Megan doesn’t look at me as she gets out the cutlery. “You don’t want it to go cold.”
I ignore her and push on, determined to clear the air. “Megan, we need to talk.”
Megan tenses, but she’s still for only a second before she carries on. “What happened last night was a mistake. I had too much to drink, and I did something stupid. That’s it.”
I can’t deny the pang of disappointment I feel. “You really think it was something stupid?”
Megan’s jaw tightens. “Don’t you? I’m your employee. I had no right to do any of what I did last night.”
“Do you see me objecting?” I ask, hoping she’ll realize where I’m coming from.
But she’s still refusing to look at me. Then she swiftly picks up her plate.
“I’ll be in the dining room,” Megan says. “If you want to join me, I can’t stop you. But I want to eat.”
“Megan…”
I’m cut off by my cell phone ringing. The noise is very unwelcoming, and Megan takes that moment to leave the room with barely a glance back. At this rate, I’m never going to get a conversation out of her about what we did.
Groaning, I get out my phone and see who’s calling me. At least the signal is better compared to the night before. But seeing the caller ID makes me wish that it wasn’t. Nevertheless, I answer.
“Hi, Anna.” I don’t even try to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Hey, Dad! I’ve got some exciting news! I wanted you to hear!” she squeals, unbothered by my lukewarm greeting.
I have to pull the phone away from my ear for a moment. “Anna, could you take it down a notch? I’m getting old, and your screeching hurts my head.”
“Sorry, Dad! I’m just so excited!” Anna huffs, not lowering her voice at all. “At least I can get hold of you now. I tried calling you last night, but it said your phone was out of service.”
“We had a power cut on Martha’s Vineyard,” I say, massaging my temple. The headache is looming – a combination of all that wine last night, what happened with Megan, and now this.
“What?” she sounds surprised. “What are you doing out there?”
I sigh, not in the least bit interested in having this conversation with her. “Having a weekend break.”
Anna sniggers. “And not on your own, I bet. Is Megan with you?”
Her question catches me off guard. How would she guess that?
“Yes, she is. What of it?” I reply.
“Dad! You dirty old man!” Anna is still sniggering. “I never thought you would take advantage like that.”
