The bartender served her another tequila.
A firm hand on her shoulder made her look up. “Heyyyy, Simon.”
Her boss stared at her with a frown. “You’re drunk.”
“As a skunk.” She started giggling. “You should have a drink, too.”
“I don’t drink,” he muttered.
“Oh, for shit’s sake, lighten up, Simon,” she said shrilly. “Would having a little fun kill you?”
“How many drinks have you had?” he demanded.
She waved her hands around. “This many.” Heather paused. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I woke up and found you gone,” he said coldly. “Then I sent you a text and when I got gibberish in response I figured you were impaired somehow. Looks like I was right. You’ve had one too many drinks.”
She laughed. “Joke’s on you, pal; I’ve had way more than one drink.”
The harsh expression on his face softened and he caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I was worried about you. When I saw that you weren’t there I thought something bad might have happened to you.”
She shivered at his touch. He always made her tingly all over when he touched her. “Awwww, you do care.”
“The panic about your wellbeing lasted for no more than a second,” he said sharply. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“That’s not what you said upstairs after I took off my clothes—”
“Not here,” he said, cutting her off. He took her arm. “Let’s talk somewhere private.”
“We can sit at one of the booths here,” she suggested.
His jaw clenched in obvious annoyance, but he nodded. “Fine. Come with me.”
She let him take her hand in his as he led her across the bar, to an empty booth on the far end of the place. The booth was dimly lit and private, so she slid into the seat across from him.
“You’re obviously too drunk to have a serious discussion,” Simon muttered. “So, we’ll stay here while you sober up.”
“Are you mad at me?” she asked suddenly.
“No,” he said harshly. He must have seen the sad expression forming on her face because he sighed and reached across the table to take her hands in his. “I’m not mad at you, Heather. I’m mad at myself.”
She tilted her head. “Why are you mad at yourself? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’ve made a mess of everything,” he said.
“Mistakes happen,” she said.
“Not to men like me,” he said. “Everything in my life is ordered. Precise. My life is completely free of chaos or drama. At least it used to be.”
“Until I showed up and ruined everything,” she said miserably.
He shook his head. “You could never ruin anything, Heather.” His brow furrowed and he sighed heavily.
Simon looked so troubled that it sent a tremor of guilt through her. This was all her fault, and there was only one way to make it better. One way to fix her mistake. If Simon knew the truth, he would stop blaming himself. If she told him about what she had done at her old job, and why her marriage had ended, he’d have to see things her way.
Leaning towards him, she dropped her tone conspiratorially and said, “Simon, I’m ready to tell you all my secrets.”
Chapter 13
There was no turning back now. Not while Simon was staring expectantly her.
A very sensible part of her brain screamed out a warning at her not to overshare. To keep her secrets to herself and salvage what was left of her reputation. That was the part of her brain she usually listened to. But after having downed so much alcohol on a day of some very terrible decisions, Heather opened her mouth to confess.
Simon put his hands up. “Look, I can already guess what it is. You planned on seducing me, didn’t you? That stuff about us having to share a room was some plan you cooked to get me into bed again, right?”
Her eyes went wide. “You think I’d do something like that?”
“The Heather I grew up with would never do something like that,” he said. “But we’re obviously not the same people. You weren’t upfront with me in the beginning. Why would you start now?”