I push the button for the elevator and turn back toward the lobby. Growling out my annoyance, I realize I can’t see into the bar from where the elevators are. I shift a few feet to see if I have a better view.
“Dude,” Ian chastises under his breath.
I roll my eyes at my friend when I see him giving me a knowing grin.
“I was just looking.”
“Uh, huh.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes.
The doors open before I can see Olive again. Since the elevator doesn’t fit everyone, we usher Jenny and a few others into the elevator first while the rest of the group waits for the next one. Ian and I take up the front, blocking the doors. Long, slim, manicured fingers appear between us and grip Ian’s oversized bicep. Ian side-eyes it before turning a strained smile to the person they belong to. “Yes, Miss Bell?”
Jenny lightly smacks his arm. “Ian, I’ve told you and Nate many times you can call me Jenny.”
Ian clears his throat. “You have, Miss Bell, and we’ve explained you’re our client, so we’ll continue to show you respect.”
“Of course. We do have an audience, I suppose.” A giggle can be heard from the back of the elevator at her response.
My stomach hurts from how hard I’m holding back a laugh. I guess she decided I wasn’t giving her enough attention, so she decided to try her luck with him.
Even if it wasn’t highly unethical and unprofessional, I don’t see Jenny really fitting into the makeshift family we’ve formed with everyone at Nash Security. Jenny’s dismissive and superior attitude toward Ella every time Jenny and her team came to the office made that very evident.
Now Olive, on the other hand…
Ian’s exhale of relief is audible when the door finally opens. We escort Jenny to her room as the rest of the group heads to theirs. After many minutes of Jenny trying to persuade both me and Ian to come inside her room to “help her with her luggage,” we finally make our way back downstairs.
I chuckle as we head back to the elevator. “I really thought she’d given up on me, but I think she was hoping for a tag-team situation.”
Ian shudders. “Not my type. I need someone a little…sturdier.” His eyes cut to me. “Also, I don’t share. And I highly doubt you do.”
Olive’s smiling face pops into my mind. The thought of any other man touching her, with or without me present, makes me homicidal. “You got me there.”
Anticipation at seeing Olive sings through my veins. I want to talk to her. To get to know her. I can’t deny that if she throws herself at me, I won’t turn her down, but that isn’t what I want from her.
Well…it is what I want. But I want more than that.
Once we’re back in the lobby, I waste no time getting to the bar. I walk in, scanning the space again to find her.
Anger coils in my gut when my eyes land on her. Next to Olive is a man. He’s sitting sideways on the barstool and has his arm draped across the back of her chair. Leaning in close to her, he’s probably saying something stupid. But what has me clenching my hands into tight fists is the look on her face. She doesn’t recoil in disgust or disinterest. She’s smiling wide and laughing. Her gorgeous face turns away from me as she replies to whatever he’s said. He laughs and leans back, but doesn’t remove his arm from her chair.
“Damn, man. That sucks.” Ian joins me.
I don’t reply. Can’t even if I wanted to. I turn and walk to one of the tables at the side of the bar. One that will give me an unobstructed view of the happy couple.
“Are you sure about this? There’s probably somewhere else close by we could walk to?”
I shake my head, eyes never leaving the bar. “Nope, this is good. I’m tired and don’t want to walk anywhere.”
He sighs as he sits down at the table. He knows I’m lying about why I don’t want to leave. The waitress coming over and taking our drink and food orders barely registers. I’m too focused. I’m being ridiculous, yet I can’t shake the feeling. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything close to jealousy, but sitting here, watching them, my body vibrates with it.
Ian attempts to make small talk to distract me, but when I only respond with grunts and one-word answers, he gives up, and we sit in silence.
Besides him leaning close to Olive to talk to her, there isn’t much flirty physical contact beyond that. She occasionally touches his arm as she speaks, but it seems more friendly and less like a lover’s touch. She checks her phone every few minutes, and an emotion I can’t quite decipher from across the bar passes through her features each time.
I’m having a hard time reconciling the sick feeling in my stomach. It’s frustrating that this woman is having this effect on me.
Eventually, she raises a finger at the bartender and signals she wants her check.
Interesting.
