Fat Cat Liar
“Nope, apparently, when you disable your Facebook page, it’s a red flag. But when you close Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, you’ve kicked the bucket.”
“That right there should be enough explanation why I shut down that shit. It’s ridiculous.”
He studies me closely, his eyes roaming my face until my skin prickles uncomfortably.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you dressed so casual today?”
“I’m wearing almost the same exact thing as you.” I point to his polo shirt, jeans, and work boots. “Last I checked, we had a casual dress code.”
“Why are you wearing your glasses?”
“Because I wore my contacts for fourteen hours straight yesterday and my eyes stung like hell when I woke up.”
The real reason is because I plan on seeing Greer tonight. Her reaction to me wearing them on Saturday didn’t go unnoticed.
“I’ll buy that excuse, but I still think something’s different here. What happened to your hand?” He points to the bandage wrapped around a portion of my hand to protect my knuckle.
Fucking Clay, he got his inquisitive nature from our mom. One slight change in routine, appearance, or attitude, and he’s like a dog with a bone.
“I was moving furniture around this weekend and banged up my knuckle. And, if you must know, I cut myself, too. Sunday night, I went to an urgent care clinic and ended up getting a tetanus shot.”
He grimaces, his face filling with sympathy. “That sucks.”
“You done with the third degree? I told you I’m busy.”
He seems to accept this explanation and relaxes his stance. “You think you can cut out of here a little early tonight so we can get in a workout?”
I close my eyes and think quickly. The gym is near my old loft, well out of the way, and too risky. If I s
ay yes, he’ll suggest dinner at my place afterwards, which is basically bare now that I’ve moved everything across town. But, if I say no, he’ll start in with the questions again.
“How about a run instead? I have clothes here.”
“That’ll be good.” He agrees without question. “Text me when you’re ready.”
He leaves, cranking up the music on his way out. I try to get back to work, but my concentration is shot. Instead, my thoughts switch to Greer. Monday night, when I got home, I found a note under my door, thanking me for the flowers I’d left for her that morning. I’d planned on calling her yesterday, only to realize I never got her phone number.
I thought about knocking on her door and asking if she’d be interested in having a drink, but it was late.
Tonight, though, I’m forging ahead. There’s still so much to learn, and the truth is, I enjoy her company. It’s moved beyond a physical attraction. She’s so vibrant and full of life. Being around her is a breath of fresh air. Not to mention, each time I see her, my heart starts to race.
Who am I kidding? I’m so fucking screwed. Six hours in her presence and I knew my precious plan was flawed. For days, she’s consumed my mind.
Maybe, when this is all over, after Morris Construction wins the bid, I can turn this around and we can still be friends.
Guilt churns in my gut and tightens my chest.
Because I know deep down she’ll never forgive me. There’s a good chance I’ll never forgive myself.
Chapter 5
Greer
“That’ll never work. We need to think harder about the environmental implications and the waste.” I tap the pencil against my lips, pacing my living room. “Dad specifically wants to have the EPA’s highest stamp of approval. We’re going to bring the CDC in, as well.”