“I can only imagine what it’s like to wake up next to you.”
Her giggle races through the phone. “We wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.”
“I wouldn’t let you get out of bed,” I growl.
“Which is why it’s a good thing you aren’t next to me right now,” she says. “Okay, I’m going. Call me tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Talk to you then.”
“Goodnight, Barrett.”
“Goodnight.”
Barrett
MY HEADACHE HAS STARTED TO wane after an incredibly long morning, but I can feel it lingering right behind my left eye. I'm in a bad mood, especially after reading a new article ripping me to shreds in the press.
I paste on a smile and wave to a little group of women eyeballing me from the corner of the hotel that houses Picante, a restaurant where Nolan and I are meeting Monroe.
Nolan keeps his face forward and pretends not to notice the waves and gestures from my little fan club. It makes the women happier, we've learned, to think they had a “moment” with me. Ridiculous but true.
I usually give them a quick once-over, just check them out a little bit, see what’s being offered. Normally, if I’m feeling particularly interested, I’d mosey over, make small talk, and grab a phone number for later.
Or two.
Hell, sometimes three.
Today I have zero interest.
"Now, when we get in here, I want you to remember that you're here to appease him," Nolan says under his breath.
"We'll see," I mutter.
The elevator door opens and we walk inside. Nolan presses the button to close the doors before anyone can get on with us. We ride in silence for the few seconds until the door chimes and opens into Picante. It's a small restaurant that's used by the wealthy. You pay a membership and they provide you with excellent food and privacy to boot.
The hostess recognizes me immediately and I can see her replaying our rendezvous together a year or so ago. I can’t help but remember her bent over the hood of my car either.
Her lips fall apart and her eyes glaze over, and I try to give her the least encouraging smile I can.
“Mayor Landry,” she breathes, batting her lashes. “How nice to see you again.”
Nolan bristles at my side as I clear my throat. “I believe we have a table waiti
ng on us.”
She nods, blushing, and leads us through the room. “I was hoping it was you and not one of your brothers when I saw the reservations,” she says sweetly as Nolan sticks an elbow in my side.
"Don't forget," he whispers. "You have the Garalent Gala coming up."
The thought makes my temple start to throb again. I don't want to think about that. At all.
“Here you go.” She steps to the side but manages to brush up against me. If Alison weren’t in the picture and this conversation wasn’t going to ruin my mood, I’d probably make plans to see her again.
I glance up at her and she winks.
Today’s not her day.
Nolan pastes on a smile as Monroe stands to greet us. We shake hands and take our seats across from him.