Page 27 of Stroked
Amy: I won’t be leaving downtown until 8. Maybe we could meet for drinks near your place?
My heart pounded within my chest. I most certainly couldnotbe in the city with her.
Me: I will be working near you later anyway. I can meet you at your place at 9. Sound good?
Amy: Sure thing. I’ll grab us a bottle of red on the way home. See you then.
That was close. I cranked the car and plugged in the next address. I needed to hustle so I could get done with these visits and get back to gather a few things since it would likely be another overnight stay.
A slight tinge of irritation bubbled inside as I drove to the next stop. It would be so much simpler to meet near my apartment, have a drink, then go to my place. I had been back and forth to her side of town several days in a row and I was stuck in the car all day. It was nearly a forty-minute drive from her place to mine, even in the early morning traffic. At least I didn’t have to check into an office.
Still, the late nights and early mornings would catch up eventually. She mentioned something big at work, so maybe this would pass. But it didn’t really matter, right? This was a fling, nothing more. If I needed to take a break on the visits, I just had to say, ‘not tonight.’ Simple enough. But one more long night wouldn’t hurt. I’d be sure to explain that the next few days would be busy, but we could plan to see each other on the weekend.
As I pulled into the next stop, I had to once again pull my thoughts from Amy and all the things I planned to do to her later. I clenched my thighs as I checked myself in the mirror, and once again, headed to meet the next manager. Unable to wipe the grin from my face, I decided to stop fighting it and let them think I was flirting. Men often talked down to female agents, but also typically fell for the charm, as long as I could withhold my eye roll until they were out of view. This business proved to be difficult, especially as a woman. But that was all the more reason to keep pushing.
Chapter 15
Amy
“No, dammit, not there!” I ran to the stand to stop the madness. “The sculpture must facethisway,” I said as I waved my arms toward the opposite direction. I was standing with my hands on my hips when an arm threaded into mine followed by a magnificent crisp scent.
“Ms. Lindsey, why don’t you go to your office. I have this under control.”
“James, the artist comes tonight. I can’t sit in my office while everything goes to shit out here. Isaidthe other way.”
James tightened his arm and pulled me toward my office. As soon as we got inside, I turned and slammed the door.
“You do realize I’m your boss, right?”
He pushed me toward the desk and into my chair. “I do, but I can also see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Grab a bottle of water, I’ll go grab you a fresh coffee, and we will regroup.”
Before I could argue, he was floating back out the door. He was too perceptive, and nosey.
“Knock, knock,” he sang as he came back in with a paper cup with a lid, and delicious coffee smells filled the room.
I took the coffee as he sat across from me at the desk. “So…” He waved his hand in a circle.
“I’m just tired.”
“Yes, I know. Hence the coffee. But you haven’t explained how you got this way. You’ve been strange the last few days. So, what’s up? Is it the exhibit, or that new lady friend?”
I stared at him over the coffee as I slowly sipped the hot liquid, prepared just the way I liked it. His gaze was fixed, and his lips tightened.
After an exaggerated eye roll, I finally answered. “Maybe a little of both. This is my first big exhibit since I got the job, and it has to be perfect.”
“And it shall. Itis. You literally stopped them while they were still placing the sculpture. We have the best people; you have to let them do their job. What’s going on with the lady?”
“I dunno. It’s stupid.” I sipped again and he didn’t let up on the crazy stare. I fixed my chair so I could look straight across. As I tried to gather the right words, I sighed. “I think I like her.”
Now James was the one giving an exaggerated eye roll. “We already established that. So, what else?”
“No, I mean, I think I like-likeher. And it makes me feel sick.” I made a face like I was going to hurl.
James turned his face but did a poor job of concealing the laughter. When he was done with his obvious show, he said, “Amy, that’s not sickness you feel, it’s the butterflies. Embrace it. She must be something to have you so wound up.”
I ran my fingers around the rim of the cup and images of Valentina flooded my mind.
“Look at that smitten kitten face. You’re adorable. I love this look on you. Liking someone is perfectly normal, hun. Now, relax,” he said with a wave of his hand. “The exhibit is under control. I will bring you a snack in a while and you can check the progress periodically. But drink your coffee, try some breathing techniques, and get zen, because the artist will be here in a few hours, and you don’t want to be all wound up.”
