can’t rinse off the shampoo. The water stopped. What am I supposed to do now?” she cries.
For fuck’s sake.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Back to reality.
It’s Monday morning, and I walk into the office. I can hardly wipe the satisfied grin from my face.
“Well, hello there.” Marley smirks as she looks me up and down. “Look at you, all glowy and shit?”
I pull her into a hug. “Thank you for forcing me to go. You were right; I really needed it.”
“You liked it?” She frowns in surprise.
“I loved it. I even booked in for next year.”
“Yes.” She pumps her fist. “I fucking knew you would love that motivational shit.”
“Who knew?” I smile and walk past her into my office and take a seat.
“Do you want a coffee?” Marley calls.
“Umm . . .” I frown as I dig my phone out of my bag.
“You’re going to need it. You have like a thousand emails to answer.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay, thanks.”
I plug my phone in to charge, and the screen lights up.
Five missed calls, Tristan.
Shit, when did he call me? I scroll through to the missed calls. Last night.
Hmm. I was so exhausted after I mopped up the lake-size flood in the house, and by the time the emergency plumber left, I didn’t even check my phone.
Oh well. I turn it on silent, put it down, and boot up my computer. I smile broadly. I honestly feel like I haven’t been here for a month. So rejuvenated.
My stomach growls, and I glance at my watch. Eleven thirty. Marley was right; I haven’t even come up for air this morning.
A knock sounds at the door, and I glance up at it. Where’s Marley?
“Come in,” I call.
I keep reading an email, then glance up to see Tristan standing there. Navy suit, pale-pink shirt, and crimson tie—looking as gorgeous as can be. “Tristan,” I stammer. “What are you doing here?”
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Well, you’re not answering my calls, so I had no choice.” He walks over to me and bends and kisses my lips.
I jerk back from him. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you hello.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not?” He frowns.
“Tristan.” I stare at him for a moment. He can’t be serious. “The dirty weekend was just that. One weekend. I don’t want anything with you.”
Chapter 9
He screws up his face. “What are you talking about, Anderson?” he scoffs. “Get your stuff. We’re going to lunch.”
What?
“Are you listening to me, Tris?” I stand up.
“No. I’m not. You’re talking shit.” He puts his hands on my hips and smirks down at me. “Why wouldn’t we see each other when we get on so well? That’s the most ridiculous thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.”
The door opens, and we both turn suddenly.
Marley’s eyes widen in horror as she sees me in Tristan’s arms. “Oh . . . sorry.” She winces.
Shit.
Tristan steps back from me, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
“That’s okay.” I force a smile. “What is it, Marley?”
“I was going to see if you wanted lunch, but . . .”
“No, she’s having lunch with me,” Tristan asserts.
My eyes flick to him. “I’m fine for the moment, Marley. Thank you.”
Marley’s wide eyes dart between Tristan and me, and I can almost hear her brain ticking . . . just great. How the heck do I explain this?
Tristan glares at Marley and raises an impatient eyebrow.
“Oh,” she stammers, all flustered. “I’ll just be at reception.”
Tristan’s nostrils flare in annoyance. “Okay.”
She points outside with her thumb. “If you need me—”
“Thank you, Marley,” he interrupts her.
She smiles broadly and closes the door, and his eyes come back to me. “Where were we?”
I smile and rub my hand down his arm. “Tris. We can’t see each other anymore.”
He brushes my hand off. “What?”
“We can’t see each other.”
“You’re dumping me?”
“Nobody is dumping anybody,” I say softly. “I really, really like you. The guy I went away with was perfect.”
“So why can’t we see each other?” he scoffs.
“Because of the obvious.”
“Like what?” he snaps. His anger is building.
“Tristan, because you are Tristan Miles, and I’m too old for you. I have children and responsibilities, and you like young blondes who are into fashion.”
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t be fucking funny, Anderson.”
“I’m not. You told me that yourself.” I take his hand in mine. “Tris, if circumstances were different and you were . . .” I pause as I try to articulate what I want to say. “If you were older than me and say . . . had