“Please, Hayden. Let me?”
The struggle played out on Hayden’s expressive face. “I don’t mind walking. It’s only half a mile or so.”
And before he could answer, Hayden took off. As Armi wasn’t about to run down the street after him, he watched Hayden disappear around the corner toward Second Avenue.
With a heavy sigh, he closed the door and leaned against it. “Well, that’s that.” He returned to the garden and sat in the chair Hayden had vacated, staring at the roses, until the sun set. Why had he been so foolish as to assume Hayden would want to spend time with him out of the office, maybe have dinner? From the first day, Hayden had made a point of stating their relationship was to remain strictly professional. No crossing the boundaries of employer-employee. Armi wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Chapter Seven
What the hell was he thinking?
Hayden used the twenty-minute walk home to clear his head. Because everything inside him was yelling to turn around, go to Armi and kiss the hell out of him. To let him know that his low opinion of himself was definitely unwarranted. But he couldn’t.
He slammed into his apartment, and frustrated, undressed and stood under the shower. Hot water streamed over him, but it couldn’t wash away the loneliness. Self-imposed exile for sure, but it hardened him from the pain. Except for the night he’d met Armi. From the first, the sweet sadness of the man had struck a chord. One whose tone he didn’t recognize.
For him, the music had died long ago.
Dressed and pacing his apartment, Hayden argued with himself. He’d broken his rule of getting too close, but that mistake was easily rectified. No more jokes, no after-work get-togethers or home visits. Strictly business. He couldn’t afford to lose this job.
That decision made, he lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The perpetual strain of wondering if his past mistakes would popup weighed heavily on him, but only now did he suffer a twinge of regret.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got a great job, a beautiful apartment, and you’re living in the city. What more do you want?”
He decided to do a little more digging into the Winters’s family history to understand Armi’s tense relationship with his father, and the more he read, the more his anger grew. Randolph Winters was never photographed with Armi, and in the Kings’ Super Bowl appearances, Hayden didn’t even see Armi in the owner’s box watching the game or joining in the celebration on the field. Anders, Whitmore, and Geiger were the ones at Randolph Winters’s side.
“I think…I need to be a lot friendlier to Russell Anders. He seems to have been the go-between for father and son.” With that decision, Hayden pulled up Russell’s calendar and began to plan.
**
“Good morning, Mr. Anders.” Hayden waved. “I’ve brought pastries. Would you like anything?” He figured food would be a good icebreaker, especially on a Monday morning.
“I shouldn’t,” Russell chuckled. “But they smell good.”
“Oh, please. You’re in great shape. I’m sure you can sneak a muffin in every once in a while.” The sunniest smile he could manage rested on his lips, and he pushed the tray toward the man. “Besides, I hate to eat alone.”
He didn’t miss Anders’s penetrating stare, but he picked out a scone and bit off the end. “Delicious. Thank you.”
“Of course. Can I make you a coffee?”
Russell eyed him. “Lucy usually brings me one. She should be here soon.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Hayden, what’s going on?”
Shit. Had he come on too strong? “Nothing. I was trying to be nice.”
“I know you think you have to protect Armand, but he’s an adult. He needs to learn how to manage this new position on his own.”
“I’m not protecting him, but I do sense that people don’t think he’s capable. And I don’t understand the negativity directed at him. Not you, of course. You’ve been very helpful. And I appreciate it.”
“I’m here for anything you need. I want the Kings to succeed and be winners.” Anders seemed to be weighing something in his mind. “Maybe we can help each other.”
Now that was what he’d hoped to hear. “I think we both want the same thing.” His phone rang. “Excuse me, please. I have to get that. Hello?…Oh, good. Please have him wait. I’ll be right out. Thank you.” At Anders’s raised brows, he explained, “I ordered a new sign for the front, naming Armand Winters as owner and CEO. Mr. Winters approved it. I think it’s time, don’t you?” He flashed another guileless smile.
“Of course. Good idea.”
“And please, bring Lucy a pastry. There’s plenty here.”
