Page 85 of Conflict
As if I hadn’t thought of that.
Cheyenne swoops in to save the day. “Quiet, Bryan. Sawyer knows. Sawyer doesn’t care. Neither should you.”
Bryan’s surprised expression matches mine.
“Sawyer…knows?” I ask, suddenly needing more sake.
She waves a hand in the air: a gesture of no big deal. “He and Shane have known each other since college. While they aren’t best friends or anything, they get together for golf every so often. A few months ago—August, I think—I found Shane in Sawyer’s office, asking for information about you.”
My belly does a flip-flop at the notion. “Months ago?”
A broad smile crosses her lips. “That’s why I said it’s about time. Sawyer, at first, told Shane no.”
And just like that, my heart falters and my stomach twists into knots. My face must convey my emotion, because Cheyenne’s quick to continue.
“No, not because of who he is or where he works. It wasn’t like that. He was just trying to be protective. Like the big brother you don’t have.”
Bryan snorts. “She’s got me.”
Another eye roll comes from Cheyenne. “Anyways, he did the whole ‘if you hurt her, I’ll kill you’ song and dance before giving Shane his blessing. Not that you need it, of course.”
I’m oddly touched that Sawyer, whom I’ve known for several years but never have been close with, would think to look out for me. “So he’s fine with it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Because, you know, I’d never do anything to jeopardize the business or my standing with it,” I explain.
Cheyenne smiles softly, patting my knee. “Of course you wouldn’t. Plus, it’s not as cutthroat as you think. Filiatrault already knows which company he’s merging with. He’s just toying with them, seeing who can schmooze him the most. It’s an annoying yet necessary part of the biz.”
“So no conflict of interest?” I ask, needing the confirmation once again.
“No, Alyssa. None whatsoever. So you can stop running from Shane with the excuse that it’s for the sake of your job. He’s a good guy. You’re a great woman. I think you’ll be perfect together. In fact, I wish I’d thought of it first.”
“Right, because your matchmaking skills are so on point,” Bryan says, his face turned into a scowl.
And this is how Bryan and Cheyenne find themselves in a drunken, long-winded, heartfelt discussion on the woes of love.
Fortunately, my phone chimes again and I sneak off to my room.
I place the phone to my ear and fall onto my bed. “I miss you,” I whisper in the dark.
“Are you drunk?” he asks in a low drawl.
This is how the first week of our relationship has gone. I work all day, and he schmoozes whatever client or executive he’s with. I come home and eat dinner with Bryan; Shane continues to schmooze whomever he’s with. I shower, pour a glass of wine, and go to my room, usually catching up on the latest episode ofBelow Deckor rewatching old reruns ofThe Office, because dammit if Jim, Pam, and Dwight aren’t exactly what I need after a long day. Shane heads back to his hotel and calls every night at eleven p.m. on the dot. And he random texts throughout the day to let me know he’s thinking about me. It’s been four days, and if I wasn’t before, I’m completely smitten with the man now.
“I wouldn’t say drunk. I’m delightfully tipsy.”
“I wish I were delightfully tipsy right there next to you,” he murmurs, and his voice, laced with sexual promise, sends shivers down my spine.
I slide my hand into the waistband of my pajamas and hold the phone to my ear. “Keep talking,” I whisper, touching myself at the sound of his voice.
“Sunshine, are you touching yourself?”
“Mmmhmm,” is all the response he gets.
I hear sheets rustling and then Shane’s voice is back.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
