The sight makes me stop as I finally figure out something that’s been bugging me for the last few hours. It isn’t just that she avoided meeting my eyes today. She gave me that exact same smile all day. Which is weird, because she wasn’t like that yesterday. Or the day before.
What changed?
Cora said a woman has to feel pretty comfortable with a guy to ask him to buy her that time-of-the-month stuff. So doesn’t that mean Erin feels comfortable with me?
I don’t like it when women swing hot and cold. It’s confusing, and I don’t like games. Except Erin never struck me as the type to play that kind of thing. Very different from Shelly—she liked to mess with me from time to time, saying that it kept things “interesting.”
I grab a whiskey and walk up to Erin. “Hey,” I say, determined to figure out what’s going on. It’s important, more than I care to admit. And combined with the gratitude in her eyes earlier, everything about her attitude is making me restless and agitated.
“Hey,” Erin says.
There’s that same bland smile. Ugh. “Everything good?” I put a hand at her back.
She moves away smoothly. I wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong if she hadn’t stiffened under my palm. Before I can react, she sits primly at the scarred wooden counter, her knees and ankles set side by side, then shoots me another smile that’s about as exciting as saltines. “Yes,” she says. “I got a new phone set up, no problem. I also responded to your mother.”
No problem, my ass. I’m not dumb enough to trust that smile. I might not have any sisters, but I grew up with four female cousins. Plus Mom.
What Erin gave me isn’t the smile of “it’s all good.” It’s the smile that means, “Nothing’s good, but I’m not going to tell you just because…and it’s up to you to find out if you care to exert yourself.”
“Nobody bothered you about…you know.” I swing a finger back and forth between us because I can’t think of another reason she’s being so odd. Although people at the company are discreet around me, she’s not me. Some might insinuate things that aren’t true—like how she slept her way into her position.
Erin doesn’t deserve that kind of smear. She worked her ass off—and not in a pornographic sense—for every raise, every bonus and every favorable performance evaluation.
“Nope.” The smile stretches on her face. If it goes any wider, she’ll rip something. “Not at all. All good.”
Translation: You’re not even close to the mark. Nice try, though.
This is frustrating! But losing my cool isn’t going to make her tell me the truth. “Well. That’s nice to know,” I say with a fake smile of my own, then knock back the rest of my drink in exasperation.
Before I can place the empty glass on the counter and signal for another, two arms wrap around mine like vines. “David! I had no idea you’d be here!”
Every cell in my body freezes at Shelly’s overly bright tone. I yank my arm out of her grip. “Don’t touch me.”
“But David!” Her gaze darts to Erin, then back at me. “Is it because of her? She’s just your assistant,” she says snidely.
A smooth blankness comes over Erin’s face. It’s the expression that says she’s going to distance herself emotionally from the situation before anything can hurt her. Jan used to do exactly the same thing when she was younger.
Okay, now I’m getting angry. I didn’t say okay to happy hour to have some kind of other-woman drama unfold. And I don’t want Erin’s feelings hurt. She’s worth a thousand times more than my shitty ex.
“She isn’t just my assistant, Shelly. She’s my beloved fiancée. Haven’t you read the news?” My words are extra hard.
She laughs, the sound grating. “But they’re just tabloids! They’ll say anything to make a buck.”
“Sort of like a woman who’d sleep with someone to get a job. Or lie to the media to cause trouble.”
Red blotches Shelly’s face. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. Warren Fordham said he and Erin were like this!” She crosses her fingers. “Practically engaged. They almost got married. They’re probably going to marry soon.”
“Over my dead body.” I snort. Then I sense Erin trying to slink away. No way!
I reach over and thread my fingers with hers, feeling the ring against my skin. I raise our linked hands and kiss the back of hers. Her palm flinches against mine, and a small gasp escapes her lips.
“David,” Erin whispers, torn between embarrassment and something else I can’t quite pinpoint.
Shelly’s staring at me like I’m a monster. Then her gaze lands on Erin’s ring, and a killer rage fills her eyes. “You gave her that?”
“Uh-huh.” Is that petty satisfaction surging in my gut? I like it. A lot. “It’s a Masako Hayashi original,” I explain, determined t
o pour a metric ton of salt over the wound. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”