a cheery ‘good day’.
Emmy glanced over her shoulder, pausing. “Excuse me?”
“Go-od. Rid-dance,” I drawled, as if she were challenged in the hearing department.
“Screw you,” she huffed and marched away.
“No thanks,” I muttered to the screen. “Can’t afford you, babe.”
A snort sounded from the doorway, and I looked up to find Reid leaning on the doorframe of his office.
I grimaced. “Sorry. Not professional, I know.”
“No. But funny.”
I smiled sympathetically. “She’s wrong, you know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “About?”
“You’re not an unfeeling bastard who is going to die alone.”
Reid’s expression closed down. “Has Butler called?”
I knew by the very fact that he didn’t want to talk about what Emmy had said meant that she’d drawn blood. Hating that she’d wounded him, I suggested, “Why don’t you finish up early? I can handle everything here.”
“I’m fine. Let me know when Butler calls. If he doesn’t call by three o’clock, you call his assistant.” He disappeared back into his office before I could reply.
Hours later, once the store was closed at seven o’clock and the staff had all gone home except for the night time maintenance crew and security, I knocked on Reid’s office door.
In my hand was the bottle of eighteen-year-old Macallan I’d bought from our small whisky department with my staff discount. Grabbing two glasses from the staff room, I approached Reid.
The man didn’t seem to have anyone to talk to except Patrick, and sometimes guys couldn’t say the things they wanted to say to each other. Especially two proud Scots who thought it only appropriate to cry at football, funerals, or at the death of a beloved family pet.
“Come in.”
I stepped into the office, using my arse to close the door behind me. Reid raised an eyebrow at my entrance as I held up the items in my hands. “Thought you might need this.”
I expected him to reject the idea and tell me to go home. Instead, he exhaled heavily and pushed away from his desk. He gestured to the sofa and coffee table at the back of the small room and I made my way over to it. Ignoring the flutter in my belly and the slight increase of my pulse, I placed the glasses on the coffee table and opened the whisky as Reid approached.
The rich, spicy scent of his cologne caused a flush across my skin as he settled down onto one end of the sofa and relaxed back into it. I handed him a tumbler of whisky and he muttered his thanks before taking a sip. I tried to ignore the movement of his strong throat as he swallowed. And the way his fingers clasped the glass. He had gorgeous hands. Masculine but graceful; big knuckles. And his forearms. Gosh, he had lovely forearms with thick veins and sun-kissed skin and only a dusting of hair across the top. I’d never noticed so much about a man before, but Reid’s hands and forearms totally turned me on. Okay, everything about him turned me on.He had cut cheekbones, a square jaw and a wicked grin. Reid would almost be too perfect, but thankfully he wasn’t. He’d broken his nose playing rugby when he was fourteen years old and it was slightly crooked. Somehow this just made him rugged and sexier.Damn him.Taking hold of my glass, I sat down at the other end of the sofa. It was a small two-seater, so we weren’t exactly miles apart. Studying him as I took a sip of the drink, I enjoyed the smooth warmth of the alcohol as it slid down my throat. There was a strained weariness to his features that made me want to touch him. Comfort him.
Reid’s eyes slid toward me and I held my breath at his study. “I didn’t know you drink whisky.”
I nodded. “Got a taste for the stuff when I was at uni.”
Reid smirked. “Most students have less expensive tastes.”
“I’m not most people.”
He didn’t respond to that, just leaned forward, elbows to his knees, glass cradled between his palms. His expression turned contemplative as he stared into the golden amber liquid.
Though it was unpleasant to think about him brooding over another woman, as his wannabe friend, I had to ask, “Did you have strong feelings for her?”
Reid raised his eyebrows as he looked at me. “Emmy?”
I nodded.
He shook his head. “Less than I should have.”
“What does that mean?”
Instead of answering, he threw back the entire glass and reached for the bottle to refill it.
“You can talk to me, you know. If you need to.”
“You’re my