Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
I leaned my palms on my desk and put on a saccharine sweet smile. “Me too. Guess we’ve both learned a lot about each other since L.A.”
Chapter 20
* * *
Bennett
Well, well, well. The night just got a fuck of a lot more interesting.
I sucked back the rest of the beer I’d been nursing for the better part of an hour and motioned to the bartender. “Ever hear of a drink called a sore loser?”
“I think so. Vodka, sweet and sour mix, grenadine, orange juice, and sugar around the rim, right?”
“And a maraschino cherry or two.”
The bartender made a face. “Sounds more like a recipe for a hangover, if you ask me.”
“Yeah. That’s why it’s perfect.” I motioned down to the other end of the bar, where Annalise had just walked in with Marina, of all people. “See the sexy blonde talking to the crazy-looking redhead?”
He looked down the bar. “Sure.”
“Can you whip up one of those drinks and send it to down to her? Make sure she knows the name of the drink and who sent it.”
“If you say so.”
“And I’ll take another beer when you get a chance.”
Our unofficial company happy hour had quite a turnout tonight. It was the first time both the Wren and Foster Burnett crew had socialized outside of the office. I’d guess at least thirty people showed up, half of them from the marketing department since Jim Falcon always organized this.
I kept my eye on Annalise while the bartender mixed together the drink and walked to the other end of the bar to deliver it. She smiled and looked down at the fancy glass filled with pink liquid and then followed to where the bartender pointed. Seeing me, her lips immediately soured to a frown. Marina, of course, joined her in shooting daggers in my direction. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it earlier; it would’ve been funnier if I’d had a PB&J delivered for Marina along with Annalise’s sore loser—funny to me, at least.
From the other end of the bar, Annalise held up her drink with a frosty smile and tipped her head to me in thanks.
For the next hour and a half, I attempted to mingle. But the more I caught myself sneaking glances at Annalise, the more I got annoyed. She, on the other hand, didn’t appear the slightest bit distracted or even to notice that I had grown obsessed with following her every move.
At one point, a guy who didn’t work at Foster, Burnett and Wren sidled up to her and started to chew her ear off. The asshole had on a brown tweed jacket with leather elbow pads and worn loafers—probably a writer like her last douchey boyfriend or a professor of some useless subject like philosophy.
Look, if you’re thinking I’m jealous, I’m not. Get that shit right out of your head. Jealous is when you want something another has achieved—and Annalise has not and will not achieve anything over me—or when someone has something that’s yours, and we all know I never have, nor ever will, claim any woman as mine.
I’m just protective by nature, that’s all. And while the woman might have worked her way up the corporate ranks to a position equal to mine, she clearly didn’t know shit about men.
At some point between throwing her head back in laughter and tossing around her hair, she excused herself from the now half-hour-long conversation she’d been having with Mr. Brown Tweed. My eyes followed her down the corridor I knew led to the bathrooms. I told myself to stay put, not go over there and fuck with her…but…
I wasn’t a great listener.
I raised my hand to the bartender, ordered another sore loser, and then walked it over to the ladies’ room. I stood outside and waited until she stepped out. She took two strides down the hall and almost crashed right into me.
Her eyes squinted so tightly, it was a wonder she could even see. “What are you doing, Bennett?”
I extended the drink. “Thought you’d like another drink.”
“No, thanks.” She went to step around me, but I sidestepped in front of her.
“Get out of my way.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “No?”
I grinned. In hindsight, that probably was a dickish thing to do, even for me. “That’s right. No.”
“Look. Whatever game you’re playing, I don’t want to play.”
“No game. I’m just looking out for you, making sure you haven’t drunk so much that you’re falling for the lines some random guy feeds you. Clearly your ability to judge a man’s character, even when you’re sober, is poor.”
Her face turned red. A fire danced in her baby blue eyes, and it looked like smoke might start billowing from her nose. I’d seen her pissed. Hell, it had become one of my favorite pastimes over the last few weeks to piss her off…but she’d never looked this angry. I actually took a step back.