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“Thank you.” I giggled, unsure why I was thanking him. I had known we were going to leave. It wouldn’t have been fun for him to skate, especially knowing I would be getting more frustrated the longer I spent alone on our date. We would have more fun doing something else. At the same time, I knew if I hadn’t asked to leave, we would have stayed, and he’d have been perfectly oblivious to my boredom.
He grabbed his skates in one hand and wiggled his eyebrows, clearly no longer interested in skating. “I’m just ready to get you home.”
As long as it didn’t include ice skates, I would be happy.
Chapter two
Drake
Another Monday. Fuck. I logged into my computer, pretending to check my email but focusing more on the bitter, hot coffee in my mug. Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. I’ve tried to tell myself for years that I didn’t dread Mondays, but when my boss cleared his throat behind me, I was reminded why I did.
“Hey, dude,” Phil said, turning and propping himself up against the edge of my desk. “Did you have a good weekend?”
I glanced at the clock on my computer screen. 8:05. It was too early for this shit. “It was fine,” I said, suddenly suspicious. He was the type of boss that tried too hard to get along with us sometimes, but he didn’t ever try this hard. What did he want?
“Good! That’s good.” He clapped twice. Phil paused for a moment, clearing his throat and then coughing quietly.
I took a gulp of my coffee, thankful for the slight burn at the back of my throat. “Yeah. What’s going on, Phil? You need something? I haven’t even had my coffee yet.” I held up the mostly full mug as if to clarify what I meant.
He sat, staring at me, and when he blinked, his gaze was empty. “Oh, yeah.” Phil chuckled, and the sound was almost like nails on a chalkboard.
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. “And what is it you need?” Taking another drink of my coffee reminded him of what I had said.
“Right. Too early. Not enough coffee.” Phil patted my back semi-anxiously. “I actually need to ask you for a favor. Can we talk in my office for a minute?”
8:08. Way too early for this.
I sighed, clapping the armrests on my chair and standing up. I was taller than Phil, and he looked up at me more from his spot against the pressed wood surface. “Sure, why not? I don’t want to check my emails anyway.” I winked at him, laughing quietly, and he joined in with a nervous chuckle of his own.
He followed me to his office, closing the door behind us and gesturing to the chair I was already almost settled in. Phil tapped his fingers against his desk when he sat down, drumming out a quick, quiet rhythm. We sat there, listening to the thud of his digits and the ticking of the old clock on the wall.
“Phil,” I finally said, breaking the silence.
He nodded. “Yes, sorry. You know about the new class of real estate agents starting soon. They’ll be like interns. At the end of the program we’ll bring a handful of them onto the team.” He sounded unsure of himself.
Phil explained it to me as if he didn’t bring one of these groups in each year. I had been around for at least four, though he’d only tricked me into helping him with one. It had been two years since, and I had no intention of joining him for another.
“Not happening.”
I knew that was what he wanted. He was going to rope me into helping him with a group of needy twentysomethings with no idea how the world really worked. It would be maddening, and the last time I helped him with one of his ridiculous classes, I got followed around by a girl more interested in me than the course.
“Oh, come on,” Phil whined.
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Not a chance in hell.”
He groaned, smacking his hand against the desk like he was trying to get my attention. I was already looking at him, and he cocked his head. “Come on, Drake. I need your help.”
“There’s no way I’m giving up my time to deal with a bunch of rookies that are just going to slow me down and quit at the end anyway. I have my own deals to close.” I crossed my arms, gritting my teeth as if to bite back my growing frustration.
A grin slowly pulled at Phil’s cheeks. “What if I could promise to make it worth your while?”
“I’m listening.” Damn it.
The small stretch of his cheeks grew wider until it pulled at his eyes and created wrinkles in the corners. “I can get you the Moretti account.”
My ears perked up. “That’s a massive account,” I said.
“It is.” He was no longer playing the man’s man role he often fell into. Phil knew what I wanted. A massive account. “They’re looking for thirty buildings in the next year.”
