Page 31 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
“This may be forward,” Henry added, his smile widening. “But do you want to go grab a bite to eat sometime? Get to know each other in a place that isn’t looping the same seven songs?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You noticed that, too?” Then, before I could second-guess myself, I added, “Actually, how about now? I could go for something more filling than mozzarella sticks and some pretzels.”
Henry raised an eyebrow, taken aback for a moment, but then he nodded. “Now? Well … sure.”
I couldn’t believe it. It felt almost too perfect, too easy, and I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away. Who knew how long he’d stick around? Or ifhewould show up at any moment, turning everything upside down again. There was no time like the present.
Henry offered me his hand to help me off the barstool before handing me my clutch. “A culinary expert and a real visionary. I’m intrigued.”
I was already thinking about how I could nail two birds with one stone—write the killer article Anthea was expecting by the end of the week while highlighting another restaurant that I’d had my eye on.
“After you.” Henry gestured for me to lead the way, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of a man following closely behind me. Lost in my excitement, I barely noticed the person entering Whiskey Locker from the corner of my eye.
“Oof—” Strong hands reached out to steady me as I pitched toward the side.
“Woah! Easy there.”
Wait, I knew that voice. Perfect timing, as always. Right on cue.
“Hallie! You’re already leaving?” Bright blue eyes twinkled down at me once I regained my balance. James glanced over my head at Henry, who was still right behind me. His lips pressed into a hard line and his hands, which were still on my arms, gripped me a little tighter. “Henry.”
“James! It’s nice to see you, man. How are you?”
Suddenly I was in a finance man sandwich that I’d never asked for.
I swear, if this article isn’t a hit, I’m going to reconsider all my life choices.
“I’m doing good, man.” Oh God, was that animosity I detected in James’s voice? “How’s yourwife, Henry?”
I stiffened.
Surely, I’d just misheard James. Surely, he hadn’t just asked Henry about hiswife.
Henry had taken a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of us.
“She’s doing well.” The flirty finance man that I’d just sat next to at the bar was gone, replaced by a buttoned-up douchebag. “Thanks for asking.”
James still hadn’t removed his hands from my arms and was now moving toward me, tucking me into his side. His body pressed against mine, a jolt of electricity arcing between us, and I gasped.
Henry’s face was now suddenly a deep shade of red as James continued to stare him down. After a few more awkwardly tense seconds passed, Henry cleared his throat and pushed past James out of Whiskey Locker.
My shoulders sank as my best shot at writing about an actual date walked out of the door.
11
James
I’d grown more and more restless as the last meeting of my workday stretched into the evening. Eight o’clock came and went, yet we were still in the thick of our investment review. Yes, I was physically in the boardroom, but my mind had wandered three blocks away, to a certain brunette likely perched on a barstool, instead of focusing on the market analysis we were discussing.
It had been over a month of our little game—if you could even call it that. I’d been relentless in my attempts to sabotage Hallie’s articles, determined to throw her off her rhythm. But no matter what I did, she kept publishing pieces week after week that were hilarious, witty, and full of heart. Despite myself, a twisted sort of amusement bubbled up. Her audacity was almost … admirable.
Every Monday morning, like clockwork, I poured myself a cup of coffee and anxiously awaited my online alert for Hallie’s article. I told myself I only read them to make sure I was doing a good job in deterring her from eviscerating finance men everywhere and not because I was actually interested. I definitely wasn’t counting down the minutes of my workday just to see her again, or because I was genuinely excited to. That would be ridiculous. And I certainly wasn’t replaying the way she glaredat me with those sharp, beautiful eyes—or how it felt like a personal win every time I managed to make her laugh at one of my terrible jokes. Even if she tried her hardest not to.
Definitely not.
I pushed these thoughts out of my mind as I hustled over to Whiskey Locker, hoping I hadn’t missed her tonight.
“Oof—”
