I heard Shelby’s footsteps on the stairs and glanced around, panicked. I didn’t want her coming in and finding me mooning about. I grabbed the script I’d been looking at the day before and slouched down in my chair like I was absorbed in the words in front of me. A few minutes later, I heard her voice. “Liam.”
I glanced up, hoping to appear casual. “Hey, Shelby.”
“I’m off in a few minutes. Your dinner is in the kitchen.” She hesitated, then smiled softly. “And, Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s usually easier to read the script when it isn’t upside down.”
I looked at the script in confusion. “Huh. I thought it was just badly written.”
She chuckled, but the sound was sad. “Have a good night.” Turning, she walked away.
I sat stock-still, staring after her retreating form for a moment.
She was angry with me, and still she made me dinner. She came and wished me a good evening. She even teased me. She wasn’t ready to say it, but I was forgiven.
I couldn’t let her go without saying something.
I shot out of my chair, calling her name. She stopped in the hall and turned to look at me as I raced toward her. My breath caught in my throat as I got a look at her. She was in a deep-purple-colored blouse and a black skirt that was all jagged and sexy, swirling around her ankles. Her hair was up, pieces of it hanging in curls over her shoulders, and she looked, well, amazing.
Bloody amazing.
I skidded to a stop in front of her.
“I’m sorry.”
She held up her hand. “It’s fine, Liam. I’m sorry as well. I overreacted. I know you were just trying to be nice.”
“You look amazing. Beautiful. Douglas is a lucky man.”
She blushed, and it took all I had not to lift my hand and run the tips of my fingers over her cheek to feel the heat beneath her skin. I swallowed hard. “Thanks for dinner.”
She nodded and turned away again.
Suddenly, I couldn’t bear the thought of her walking away. “Nice shoes,” I called out.
She winked over her shoulder. “Nice and flat. I don’t think Douglas would be willing to rub my feet so soon in our relationship.”
My heart stuttered at those words. I didn’t want him touching her feet. Or any other part of her.
“Wait. Is Douglas picking you up?”
She paused at the door. “No, I’m meeting him.”
I stepped forward, frowning. “Not much of a date. He should pick you up.”
She wrapped a silky shawl around her shoulders. “It was what I wanted.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“I know. Goodnight, Liam.”
It was hard to get the word out. “Goodnight.”
I stared at the door long after she had left.
But she didn’t come back.An hour later and after downing a rather large glass of whiskey, I felt the stirrings of hunger. I had eaten a light lunch after all. A single burger and a shake. I slapped my forehead. I forgot to tell Shelby that—she’d be proud. Picking up my phone, I texted her.
Liam: Hey—I forgot to tell you something.Shelby: ?Liam: I went to In-N-Out. Only had one burger and a shake. Proud?I waited patiently for her reply. No doubt I had blown her away with my restraint.
Shelby: I’ll alert the media. Go away.I chuckled. She was impressed. I was sure she was just being polite.
I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge door, pulling out the plate Shelby had left me. I grinned when I saw my favorite turkey sandwiches waiting for me. I took the plate and another whiskey into the den and sat at my desk, downing the whiskey first. I ate half a sandwich and paused. Something was missing. I looked at the plate, realizing there were no pickles. Shelby always gave me pickles with my sandwich. I loved pickles. I went back to the kitchen and opened all the cupboards, searching. No pickles.
Dammit.
I returned to the den and picked up the other half, chewing away thoughtfully, wondering where Shelby would keep the pickles.
Without thinking if it was a good idea, I shot off a quick text.
Liam: I think you forgot something.Her reply was fast.
Shelby: I think you should forget my number for the next few hours.My eyebrows shot up. That was rather rude. I only had a question. I glanced at my sandwich. I needed to find those pickles, and I had no idea which cupboard she kept them in. I had looked in all of them.
Oh well, only one way to find out. Since I wasn’t allowed to text, I called.
She answered before the second ring, her voice concerned. “Liam?”
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find the pickles.”
“What?”
“The pickles,” I explained. “You always give me pickles with my sandwich.”
“I don’t understand.”
She didn’t understand? I knew I was well on my way to getting drunk, but how much had she had to drink?