About Tomorrow - Abbi Glines Page 0,26
not the best conversationalist; however, the man was a breeze compared to living in a house with my mother. I was made for this job. Walking to my car after nine hours in a room of priceless art, crates, and the aroma of coffee, I wanted nothing more than to call Griff and tell him about everything.
I stopped on the sidewalk and sent a text. “I got a job at an art museum! Can you talk?” Then I continued heading for my car. I was anxious for him to respond, but by the time I reached my car, he still hadn’t. I slipped my phone into my purse. He was probably studying and had his phone silenced. Glancing down the street, I considered going to eat somewhere. I could order a cocktail and celebrate my new job.
“Sailor,” a deep familiar voice called my name. I gripped the door handle on my car tightly, before turning to see Creed walking in my direction. He wasn’t alone. A blonde woman was with him. She was gorgeous and tall. Typical Creed, it would seem. I waited until they reached me forcing a smile.
“Hello,” I said, looking from Creed to the woman.
If my smile was forced, hers was completely fake. I wanted to tell her to cool herself. I was no reason to be jealous. He had several other females and she was not his one and only. Getting in my car and speeding toward home was now my goal. Forget celebrating. I’d break open some wine at the house.
“Headed home?” he asked me.
Yes, now I was thanks to him and Barbie. I nodded. “Just left work.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You got a job already?”
My smile was no longer forced. Thoughts of my job made me smile and although blondie was giving me the stink eye now, I wanted to share the good news with someone. “Yes! The Islet at Portsmouth. I am assistant archivist.” I felt pride in my chest saying the words.
Creed looked pleased. “Congratulations,” he said. “Are you going to celebrate?”
I was but not the way I had planned. When I didn’t respond right away he continued. “Let’s go get drinks. It’s on me. Stormie mentioned wanting a martini from Luciandas. We were headed that way. Join us.”
Stormie did not want me joining them. It was all over her face. It was not my job to tell Creed he was with a potential psycho, but I was tempted to push her just enough that she cracked. The negative energy was not what I wanted surrounding me tonight. I much preferred my glass of wine at home alone. Hopefully talking to my boyfriend on the phone.
“Thanks but I’m expecting a call from Griff soon. I need to get home. Y’all enjoy your drinks,” I said with the sweetest smile I could muster and flashed it at Stormie before opening my car door.
“Did she say y’all?” I heard Stormie ask, not even trying to whisper.
Creed said nothing and I closed my door before more words could be spoken and cranked it up ready for some heat. With a final wave at the couple, I pulled onto the street and headed for home. Nothing was going to ruin the elation of joy I was floating on. Especially not evil Barbie.
My cell phone rang, and my mother’s name appeared on the screen in my car telling me who was calling. Not who I wanted to talk to right now. I started to reach forward and touch decline but decided getting this call over with now was better than her continuing to call until I answered.
“Hello,” I said feeling no enthusiasm at all.
“Are you frozen yet? Ready to move back south?” she asked.
“I’m keeping warm. Gran has fireplaces and I have plenty of wood.”
Mother laughed. “You can light a fire in a fireplace? Seriously, Sailor. It’s a fabulous seventy-three degrees here today and sunny.”
I was very serious and annoyed that mom would assume a fire would shut me down. Did she not know me better than that? No. She didn’t. She barely knew me at all. “Where are you these days? California?”
“You know I’m talking about home,” she replied.
Home. That was an interesting word. I never thought of the mansion I grew up in as a home. It was a showcase not a home. A place where nannies took care of me and my parents visited me. Nothing more.
“I just got a job at an art museum,” I told her, not bothering to give her details.