“Hey, why are you still at your desk? Let’s go.”
“Dude, beers on the company. Whatcha waitin’ for?”
“I’ll be right there. Save me a seat,” I yelled after them. I had another email to finish, and then I wanted to see if Jayma was really going like she said she was.
When everyone in the office was gone, I went out to find her, but her spot was empty. She’d either headed out with the rest of the gang or had blown off happy hour.
I took a sec to check out her desk. She had a picture of herself with another woman who had several dogs on leashes. Must have been a friend.
Then something caught my eye. It was a letter from a bank.
Normally, I would never snoop on someone’s desk, but this thing was just sitting out in the open, like Jayma had meant to stuff it in her bag and forgot. And I couldn’t lie. I read the first couple lines in the letter. It was something about being late on a mortgage payment.
I looked around the office to make sure I was alone, and then turned the paper so I could read it better.
Holy shit. A house that she had a mortgage on was going to be foreclosed because she’d not been making payments. Man that sucked. Left me with a bit of a pit in my stomach. I mean, people need to pay their bills and so forth, but anyone could fall on hard times. And I would not wish something like that on my worst enemy—if I had one.
Okay, so now I felt like total fucking shit for reading this poor woman’s letter, which was absolutely none of my damn business. How was I going to look at her now, knowing what I did?
Five minutes later I walked into Belden’s, where happy hour was in full swing. It was a cozy little place with good bar food and cheap happy hour beer, which is probably why the company agreed to spring for a social hour. Who was I to complain?
And I’m embarrassed to admit it, but the moment I got there, all I wanted to do was see Jayma. My curiosity about the girl who wanted to move up in advertising, but who also owned a house that was being foreclosed on, was ruling the moment.
I mean, how does a receptionist afford a house, anyway?
There was definitely more to what met the eye with this one and my curiosity—not to mention libido—were piqued.
Chapter 5
JAYMA
Fuckers. I’d known nothing about goddamn happy hour until Tanner spilled the beans when he was nosing around the reception area. I might be the lowly receptionist, but that didn’t make it okay to forget to include me in the office social activities.
The nice thing about being annoyed with my coworkers was that it pushed my home problems to the bottom of my worry pile. I could only get upset over one thing at a time. Well, maybe two things. But I wasn’t about to make myself more miserable than I already was.
Anyway, so that no one would ever forget to include me again, I was doing my best to be the life of the party. I was making the rounds speaking with everyone from the top executives down to the—well, I was the lowest person on the totem pole. Still, I wormed my way into conversations people were having, chipped in a few witticisms, and was sure to laugh hard when everyone else did. If I was going to move up the ladder, I had to make sure I was on everyone’s radar, right?
I spotted the owner and founder of the agency elbowing his way up to the bar for a refill. I dumped the people I was talking to—or should I say listening to, since I didn’t have much to contribute anyway—and pushed my way into position next to him.
“Oh, hi, Mr. Renner!” I said, as if he was the last person in the world I thought I might run into that night.
He looked around, and when his gaze settled on me, he seemed confused for a second.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. He didn’t know who I was. Or maybe he did, but not well enough to place my face when out of the office.
Jerk.
“Hello…” he said, as if he were leaving a blank for me to fill in with my name.
“Jayma. Jayma Kersey,” I told him.
“Yes! Jane! Right.”
Should I have corrected him? Because I couldn’t bring myself to.
Seemed he had nothing else to say.
But that was okay, because I was ready and willing to fill the void.