His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,57

could I piss off one of the most promising donors?

His touch had faded, and he could only blame himself. Sam made him crazy, and drove out all thoughts of the business from his mind. He couldn’t stand that she was mad at him, but he couldn’t come up with any way to win her over again.

He pulled out his phone and wondered if he should call her, or text her. But when he scrolled to her name, he just couldn’t do it. Instead, he erased Sandra’s name and typed in Sam. It was the least he could do.

Connor’s notifications on the dating app had piled up. Simply to clear them, he clicked on it and went to “erase all.” But he saw that a familiar-looking girl had matched with him, and viewed him recently.

“Jenny_fromthe_Ward” didn’t look particularly like his type. Although that night in Monaco, he’d swiped right like a maniac without even looking. He clicked on her profile and went through the handful of pictures. She was kind of cute, petite with a severe black bob. “I’m an event manager,” she’d written.

Event manager? Shit. He realized exactly who she was. What were the odds of Sam’s coworker getting matched with him on the app? Well, pretty high, actually. Everyone was on it. And he’d never not matched with anyone before.

What if Jenny told Sam? The girl didn’t seem particularly confident or outgoing. Was she a gossip? How close were they exactly? And what if Sam figured out he’d matched with this girl while they were in Monaco?

You’re overreacting, he told himself. There’s no way that will happen.

Connor clicked off the app quickly, as if that would do anything to erase what he’d done. Again he went to Sam’s name in his contacts, but he couldn’t think of what to say. Maybe he should just give her more time to cool down. Do something now, and it might blow everything up.

“What are you doing over here like a wallflower?” His dad came out of nowhere, as per usual. “Go out there and mingle. Where’s Sam?”

“She was just here,” he said. “And I’ve mingled them to death.”

“Yeah? Carlos didn’t seem too happy just now,” his father said, as he nodded toward the donor Connor had just insulted.

He sighed. “He’ll get over it.”

“I certainly hope so. The last thing we need is one of the most influential young donors in the city claiming Trezor is homophobic, racist, or both.”

Yeah. I’m the one who’s going to give us that reputation.

25

Sam

Sam bit into another of Aunt Mary’s famous soft oatmeal cookies and moaned. “I don’t know how you do it,” she told the older woman.

“Cold ghee, not butter,” she said simply, and placed down two cold glasses of cashew milk for her and Ellie.

“I’m so glad you never sold this house,” Sam told her. “I have fond college memories of waking up here on Sunday mornings!”

“And me pretending I didn’t know you girls were hungover as all get out,” she said. “Ain’t no amount of cheap cocktails a few cookies can’t fix.”

“I wish a hangover was the worst of it,” Sam said.

Ellie held her hand across the table. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “You have my full attention for the next few days. Especially with Henry going all James Bond with his US Marshals mission and everything,” she said with a smile.

Sam let out a deep sigh. “Thanks,” she said. “To both of you. But this is good. It helps. I just—God, I just need to get away from my life for awhile.”

“You know,” Ellie said gently, “you don’t have to keep up this charade. Why don’t you let me look at the contract? I’m sure there’s something in there—”

Sam made a face and cut her off. “Oh, I’m going to finish out the month, and then I’m quitting. You can bet on that. I’m tired of his bullshit.”

“Language,” Aunt Mary said.

“Sorry,” she said, ashamed. “That’s how crazy he makes me! You see? Ugh, I wish I hadn’t gotten mixed up in this whole mess.”

“That’s what you get when something sounds too good to be true,” Aunt Mary said as she sat down with them. “How much did you say he was paying you again?”

“Um, a lot,” Sam said. It embarrassed her to say the amount out loud. She’d cut the real number in half when she’d told Ellie, and Ellie had still flipped out.

“Well, money isn’t more important than your sanity,” Ellie said. She pulled her thick red hair up into a ponytail.

“I