Page 23 of A Little Too Late
She gives her head a reluctant shake. “No, I don’t have it in writing. But the Sharpes offered me the job. They said I was the natural choice.”
“I’m sure you are. Just get it in writing,” I say quietly. “Ask for a two-year contract. That’s long enough to make it expensive for him to replace you, but short enough that he shouldn’t balk.”
Ava doesn’t thank me for this advice. She gives me a furious glance instead. And then her gaze travels to where the bellhop is helping someone through the front doors.
It’s not the Sharpes, though. It’s Sheila. “Hey, lady!” I wave to my assistant.
She spots me, hands off her suitcase to the bellhop, and then comes bouncing across the lobby.
“Wow, she’s way too young for you,” the bartender carps.
“Halley,” Ava groans. “Nobody asked you to wade in.”
“It’s what I do,” she says.
My fresh-faced assistant leaps onto a barstool beside me. “Listen, boss man. Let’s talk about my next raise.”
I laugh. “Sorry?”
“You should be. Your dumb spreadsheet is waiting in your inbox. I had to work on it while wedged into a middle seat between two man-spreaders. So I want you to upgrade me to business class on the way home. And I want a cocktail.”
“How about a ginger martini?” the bartender offers, reaching for a shaker. “You look like you deserve one.”
“Hey!” I complain. “You said you were out of those.”
She gives me an evil grin. “They’re only for people I like. Ava? Martini?”
“Sure,” my ex-girlfriend says. “Thanks.”
“I’m still mad at you,” Sheila continues.
“Take a number,” I mutter. “What did I do now?”
She pins me with a glare. “I had to text Harper on your behalf.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”
The bartender snorts.
I ignore her. “She’s pissed off?”
“You could say that. Of course, I assumed you’d called herwhen you said you would. So I texted to ask if she wanted to keep the reservation.”
“I dialed!” I say, trying to defend myself. I remember pulling up her number this morning. But then Ava had said something, and I put Harper right out of my mind. “I was, uh, interrupted. And I didn’t try her again.”
Sheila just rolls her eyes. “Should I send roses? Although there’s really no point. She’ll know they’re actually from me.”
“No,” I grunt. “I’ll call to apologize.” I can’t believe I forgot to call Harper.Again. That was rude. We aren’t really a couple, though. It’s casual.
Although it’s pretty telling that I walked around that gorgeous hotel suite upstairs and never once thought of her, even while staring at the king-sized bed.
“The other reason I’m mad at you—”
“Ooh, there’s more?” the bartender asks, shaking up a cocktail.
Sheila glances toward the other two women. “Hi, I’m Sheila. I work for Reed.” She glances at Ava. “Was I interrupting something? I’m sorry.”
