He put the remote down and simply stared at me.
“Okay then,” I whispered, and opened the office door.
“Lana,” he called. I looked over my shoulder to see him run his thumb along his lower lip, then taste it. “Have a good afternoon.”
I swallowed hard. “Y-you too.”
With that, I shut the door behind me and walked my shaking legs down the stairs.
Chapter Seven
“At least it’s a different table,” I said, looking around the bar I’d been stood up at over two weeks ago. It was where my co-workers went for happy hour during the week, and this time, I was invited.
After yesterday in Jack’s office, I could really use a drink. Harper had come home after I was asleep, and I left early this morning. I was dying to talk to her, but she seemed to be working late hours, and I didn’t want to wake her.
So, I had spent that last twenty-eight hours, yes, I was counting, since my last encounter with Jack, trapped in my own mind, and wondering what to do next.
“Lana, want to sit by me?” Edith asked, as a few of my co-workers shoved into a booth.
Edith was nice and, by all accounts, normal. She was one year older than me and had been working for Reign Resorts for a year. She was friendly, and when she wasn’t talking about her ambitions to move up and work in the actual resort, as opposed to behind the scenes, she was chatting about how hot Jack Powell was, or the most recent scandal she’d read about in the tabloids.
I sat on the end next to Edith. I was the only “new hire,” and everyone was chatting and seemed to know each other fairly well.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said to Edith.
“Of course.” She was the one person who had been nice and gone out of her way to get to know me. “So, you going to dish about the other day when you ran out after Mr. Powell left?”
Edith was also a bit of a gossip. I didn’t want anyone to know about my relationship—if I could even call it that—with Jack. Especially co-workers. It would look bad if I was seeing the owner of the resorts, in any capacity.
“I just needed some fresh air,” I said, and looked at the happy hour menu. It was laminated and sticky, and the first thing I read sounded perfect. Especially if it got Edith’s questioning glare off of me.
“Why don’t I get the first round? Margaritas sound good?” I announced, and everyone seemed happy with that. Couldn’t really go wrong with four dollar margaritas.
“I like you already,” said Walter, the mid-forties man who worked two rows down. “I’ll get the next round.”
Nodding, I walked to the bar, the chattering of the table getting fainter the further away I got. My anxiety was a bit on the high side, with trying an outing with new “friends.” It was better than remaining a social outcast, though. Besides, broadening my horizons with people was part of me attempting to gain control of my life.
When I reached the bar, the tall model wasn’t working, thank goodness, and while the place was relatively bustling with people, it wasn’t overcrowded like a weekend night. It was still early, after all. Getting off work at four was nice. But all I kept thinking about was the other day in Jack’s office.
“Hi,” I said to the bartender, an average man with a nice smile, who had to be in his late twenties.
“Hi, there.” His smile turned a little brighter as he glanced at my chest, then back to my face. “What can I get you?”
“Four margaritas, please. Blended.”
He winked. “Coming right up.”
I pulled a twenty out of my purse, and rested my forearms on the counter while he went to work making the drinks at the other end of the bar.
I glanced around. The place looked different in the daylight. Rustic, yet modern. Eclectic décor hung on the walls like old framed posters and a signed Colorado Rockies jersey.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“Jesus!” I gasped and saw Jack standing next to me. With his hands in the pockets of his expensive navy suit, he leaned his side against the bar and looked at me. That dark gaze heating my blood like a Bunsen burner.
“There I go, scaring you again.”
“You don’t scare me,” I said. “You surprise me.”