Page 30 of Conflict
I shudder at the thought.
Bryan is looking at me with curiosity. “Why did she make me buy so many cucumbers?”
My cheeks flush with heat. “If you’d wanted the answer to that, Bryan, the time was that night. What happens at girls’ night stays at girls’ night.”
He groans, and I have to wonder how many girls’ nights he had to partake in while living with the two of them. I imagine he’s seen more than most.
“Suffice it to say, Alyssa, I was quite happy to drink beer and watch ball with Sawyer.”
Bryan switches topics quickly, catching me off guard. “Hey, so I know you don’t like to talk about your parents.” I groan, and he holds a hand up to me. “Hear me out. I believe you once called them social butterflies…No, locusts, so I was wondering, do you think they know anything about the Wellingtons?”
My mouth drops open, and I barely register the description I’ve definitely used for my parents before with him. Bryan raises a brow. “I take ityouknow something about the Wellingtons.”
“I… I met Shane in passing once,” I stammer, not wanting to lie to him, but not exactly wanting to share all the intimate details.
He leans back in his chair. “Shane,” he mutters, as if trying to place the name. I know the moment he realizes it. “The Atlanta CFO? He’s the one who plays golf with Sawyer and Cheyenne seems to like him well enough.”
My throat is suddenly drier than the Mojave Desert. I should’ve known they were familiar, but I never would’ve expected they were friendly with Shane. I clear my throat and smile at Bryan, hoping like hell I’m giving nothing away. “If they know him, why are you asking me if my parents know the family?”
Bryan shrugs. “Personal curiosity, I guess. And I prefer to know as much as I can about the competition. Cheyenne, however, told me looking into the Wellingtons wasn’t something on the top of our list and to mind my own business.”
“Well, since she’s sleeping with your boss, might as well listen to her.” He scowls, and I take the opportunity to hopefully move the conversation along in a different direction. “So, you seem on edge. Not like your usual chipper self. And you obviously didn’t call me in here to go over the latest figures for the Filiatrault merger, so what’s on your mind?”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up even more than usual. Another thing I love about Bryan: He has an uncanny way of looking professional yet downright casually sexy all at the same time.
Don’t get me wrong. While I have an appreciation for eye candy at work—not to mention his killer personality—Bryan and I friend-zoned each other pretty much on day one. Which is another reason our professional relationship, as well as our friendship, is smooth sailing. But hey, just because I have a sisterly affection for the guy doesn’t mean I can’t admire the view from time to time
“Well…it’s just… You see…” Bryan stammers, which is quite unlike him. He glances around the office, not looking at me, while fidgeting with a pen.
I decide to rescue him. “Okay, this is obviously a conversation for happy hour, not at the office when I’m trying to finish up so I can enjoy my weekend without thinking of a single number other than the one for Vietnamese takeout.”
Bryan glances at the clock then back at me, his eyes lit up at the thought of beer, bar food, and apparently deep conversation.
“I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
He nods.
And just as I’m about to exit his office, my hand catches the doorjamb and I pause. “And, boss? Feel free to throw my name in the hat when it comes to traveling to France the next time the bigwigs need to go “visit the biggest Filiatrault winery”. You know, a way to get the new girl’s feet wet.”
A grin covers Bryan’s face and he winks. “I’ll see what I can do, Covington. I’ll see what I can do.”
After work, Bryan and I catch a cab. When we arrive at a hole-in-the-wall bar I’ve never been to, I turn to him, puzzled, but he ignores me as he pays the tab.
It’s not until we’re settling in at the bar, him with a whiskey—which also has me puzzled because Bryan’s usually a Jäger kind of guy—and me with a glass of white wine that I pounce.
“What are we doing here?” I ask. “We always go to Five Points for happy hour on Fridays.”
Bryan runs a hand through messy hair again. I imagine he’s been doing it all day now. “I did it. Again.”
I sit back against my chair, letting out a breath. “Oh, Bryan,” I whisper, wanting to reach out to him but not wanting to betoofamiliar.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he growls. “I told myself the last time was a fluke. Drunk on vacation, never talked about again. But…”
The pain etched on his face sinks my heart. He’s been in love with his roommate since his college days, and twice—no, three times now—she’s let him into her bed, but not her heart.
“Look, I’m not the best person to give relationship advice—”
He interrupts with a scoff. “Alyssa, I’m pining over a relationship blogger who wouldn’t know a good relationship if it fell into her lap. Fuck, it’s been in her lap three times.”
