Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (23 page)

“Over there—look, a table just opened up.” He grabs my hand, pulling me through the crowd until we’ve secured our spot. I sit, but he doesn’t—his focus zeroed in on the electronic menu displayed above the bar, listing the outrageous variety of beer they have available tonight. “You want a drink?” he asks, looking over at me.

“Yeah, I can have one.”

“Cider?” I nod, never having been a big fan of beer. “Which kind?”

“Surprise me.”

“All right. Be right back.”

“I’ll be right here.”

It’s been a long day at the office, and I’m beat to shit. What started off as a good day with the completion of the Dixon project turned into the day from hell when we lost a major account. Someone at our Denver location completely fucked up. Despite our best efforts, Aunt Eddalyn and I could not convince them to keep their business with us. With that great loss on our hands, decisions had to be made. I’ve never been a fan of firing people, but it’s something we’re considering. It was suggested by Aunt Eddalyn that we both sleep on it. I’ve decided to drink and
then
sleep on it.

When I walk into The Tap Room, I can’t tell if I’m in favor of or repelled by the crowd. Under more normal circumstances, this would be the perfect atmosphere in which to immerse myself. One cursory glance is all I need to see that there are a few women in here I wouldn’t mind spending the night with. Yet, for the sake of one exquisite, shy, redhead, I won’t be indulging my dick this evening. I’ll have to be satisfied with a drink.

I take a seat at the end of the bar when I notice there’s a baseball game on. I shrug out of my jacket before draping it over the back of the stool, then I look up at the menu of beer selections that stretches over the bar. The woman who takes my order is a busty blonde with a flirty smile, and I decide a couple hours in this place will do me some good. For a while, the game holds my attention, helping me to set aside today’s troubles. When I begin to relax, my mind fills with thoughts of Teddy.

I haven’t seen her in a week, though we’ve corresponded a little since then. I meant to call her today, but that was before work got hectic. Tomorrow evening has been planned, our reservations set for eight-thirty, but she doesn’t know it yet. I think about calling her now, but the room is filled with too much noise, so I pull out my phone to send her a text.

Me:
Tomorrow night. 8:00. I’ll need your address, Miss Fitzpatrick.

I don’t usually pick women up when I arrange to have dinner with them. It’s easier for us to meet where we intend to dine; then, at the end of the evening, or sometimes the next morning, the mess of having to arrange for one of us to get home isn’t an issue—our vehicles readily available. However, tomorrow night will be different. I can’t say for sure where we’ll end up after dinner. In fact, it’s probable that
dinner
will be all I manage to get, so long as Teddy sticks to her convictions.

What intrigues me the most about the whole scenario is that I don’t seem to mind the wait.

I’m enjoying this chase.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when my phone buzzes in my hand. Teddy’s name appears on my screen and I’m quick to swipe my finger to reveal her reply.

Teddy:
825 Heather Ridge Lane Apt. 26

Teddy:
Will you tell me where we’re going, Mr. St. Michaels?

A small smile pulls at my lips and I take a tug of my beer before I type my reply.

Me:
I don’t think so.

Teddy:
How am I supposed to know what to wear?

Me:
You’re stunning, Teddy. Anything you wear will be fine.

When she doesn’t respond right away, my small smile grows wider. I imagine the look on her face right now, and it makes me want to kiss her—long and hard. I make a mental note to make sure that happens the next time I see her.

As I wait for her response, my eyes wander around the room. Then, when I catch a glimpse of a long, wavy, red ponytail, I sit up taller to get a better look. It only takes me a moment to identify the woman as the one who occupies my thoughts just now. I’d recognize her small frame anywhere. I watch her as she engages in conversation with her companion before she focuses her attention on her phone. I get a text alert a few seconds later, but I don’t bother looking at it.

I wonder who she is with. Then I decide I don’t care, and I want to go say hello. Just when I get to my feet, I watch as the man across from her stands up, pointing to the bar. I realize this is my opening—but then before he goes, he grabs her face and kisses her. He says something that makes her laugh and then kisses her again before leaving her at the table.

My eyes grow narrow as I stare at the back of her head. I sit back down, instantly pissed off. For the last six and three-quarter days, I’ve been
saving
myself for a fucking
chance
with a woman who is now
kissing
someone else? I have no idea what game she’s playing at, but I sure as fuck no longer want to play—not if she’s playing dirty. I shake my head, appalled that she had the audacity to tell me
she
was the one with trust issues; and yet, here I sit, watching her make-out with some other dude while texting me about our date tomorrow night.

Fuck the date
.

I down the rest of my beer, shoving aside any and all thoughts of the plans I had for Teddy—forgetting the way she smells, the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way she looks sleeping in my bed. Instead, I look around the room, suddenly on the prowl. Only, the women who seemed attractive a few minutes ago don’t at all interest me now. That pisses me off even more, and I decide that with the day I’ve had—the day I
continue
to have—beer is no longer going to cut it.

Knowing that if I order something stronger, I risk being too intoxicated to drive without lengthening my visit, I decide to leave. There’s no way in hell I want to stick around this place long enough for Teddy to spot me with her fucking blonde boy-toy. I settle my tab, grab my jacket, and get the hell out of there—not even bothering to give her a backwards glance.

“Did he text you back?” Geoff asks as soon as he sits back down in the seat across from me.

I look back down at my phone, knowing already that it hasn’t gone off in the last two minutes. Just as I suspected, I have no text alerts lighting up my screen.

“Nothing, yet.”

“I can’t believe I got you to send that,” he says with a proud grin.

I shake my head and laugh at him, the adrenaline rush that coursed through me the second he sent his first text still lingering in my veins.

“What if he doesn’t respond?” I murmur anxiously.

Geoff lifts an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with mischief. “He’ll text you back, baby girl. I guarantee it.”

I
come out of Aunt Eddalyn’s office, my muscles tense and my mood shot to shit. Monday morning, I’ll be making a trip down to Denver to fire one of our own. In today’s economy, I hate to let anyone go; but that’s not reason enough to hang onto an employee who has become a liability to our good name. We’re a business with a reputation to uphold. Not to mention we need to be
making
money, not
losing
it.

When I reach my office, I close myself inside, not wishing to be bothered. Apparently, that means nothing to the person who knocks not two minutes later.

“What is it?” I call out from behind my desk. Logan opens the door, peeking her head inside. I look at her, waiting for her to speak.

“Is now a bad time? I just wanted to show you what I came up with for the Mason Diner project. They’re ideas, mostly. You know what?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously. “I’ll just email them. You can let me know what you think when you get a chance. Monday is fine. I’m in no rush.”

Her mention of
Monday
has me thinking about the vacancy that I’ll have to deal with next week, which reminds me that I never spoke to Logan about her pregnancy and what that means for her future here. As far as I know, she hasn’t even told anyone that she’s expecting. I decide now is as good a time as any to get to the bottom of the issue.

“Wait, Logan. Come in. Shut the door behind you. I need to speak with you.”

“Oh. Okay,” she says, doing as I ask.

As she sits, I lean back in my chair, taking her all in. From the looks of her, she doesn’t appear knocked up; but the saltines she brings with her every morning hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“So, has it been confirmed? Are you pregnant? You haven’t spoken about your condition since you freaked out in here a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh,” she practically coos, her hands sliding over her flat stomach as a smile stretches across her face. “Well, I haven’t been to the doctor yet. I have an appointment next week, but I took, like, three tests. Roman and I are pretty sure we have a baby coming.”

I nod slowly, trying to imagine what she’ll look like round with child. It’s not a sight I can say I’m looking forward to seeing. Children have a way of permanently changing a woman’s figure—the loss of hers will be a shame.

“So what does this child mean? Your days here are numbered?”

“What?” she asks, sitting up straighter, panic flashing in her pretty green eyes. “No. I have no intention of quitting. I mean, I’ll need a few weeks for maternity leave, but I don’t want to give up my career.”

“You say that now. Am I to expect that you won’t change your mind? Because if there is even the slightest chance that you’ll be leaving, I’d like to be prepared. Besides, I see no point in continuing to mentor you if you plan on abandoning ship.”

“Whoa!” she cries, holding her hands up, as if to silence me. “First of all—it’s like I said, I don’t plan on quitting. I
love
my job. I’ve worked really hard to get here. Just because I’m having a baby, that doesn’t mean that I won’t continue to work hard at what I love. Staying at Eddalyn’s was a decision I made—a decision I made with my husband—long before we even started
trying
to get pregnant.

“Second, I don’t know what crawled up your ass, but you certainly don’t have to take it out on me. What is happening in my personal life is none of your concern. The information I’ve given you is privileged. I haven’t told anyone in the office yet, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t either. I thought maybe you were asking out of friendly curiosity. Clearly, I was mistaken.