Bentley couldn’t quite be described as entirely stable. He had good looks that drew attention. Tall, sharp-dressed, and handsome. If all that didn’t grab a person’s attention, then his accent certainly would. However, after he’d taken all the speech lessons his British accent was a thing of the pass—almost.
She should respond to his text.
Instead, she found herself pulling up the last text thread with Bear. She shouldn’t but she did type in,“How are you? Are we still friends?”
Hovering her thumb over the screen for a good“should I really do this”moment, she finally hitsend.
Aasia needed to focus.
Lifting the lid to her laptop, she clicked on her email account. Nothing from Taylor. Aasia had sent the office assistant for MedLabOne a message asking for all the records on insurance payables. This wasn’t usually something one of the scientists handled at the lab, and Aasia wasn’t certain what she was looking for, but she’d been tracking an issue regarding missing data reports that had accidently came across her desk. The numbers didn’t seem correct. She’d casually mentioned the concern to Bentley, but he’d brushed her off. She couldn’t quite shake her unease though.
Aasia started to close her laptop when an email came through. It was from Taylor. Attached were the financial reports.
She worried her lip as she stared at the financial records. She scrolled through the list of tests which were all signed off by her, but she didn’t recognize several of the orders.
There had to be a mistake. What was she missing?
Dialing the number to Deacon Clark, the MedLabOne’s account manager, he didn’t answer. Disappointed, she left a quick message asking if he would call her ASAP and she hung up.
Setting her laptop aside, she stepped back inside to see what else she could make with the lasagna. In the refrigerator she found a container of leftover Chinese. A block of moldy cheese, which she tossed into the trash can. A container of almond milk. And a jar of mayonnaise. Aasia wasn’t much of a grocery shopper. She slammed the door shut, grateful when her phone rang. She would have gladly taken a call from a telemarketer just to get away from the current situation.
A smile curved her mouth as she saw the name on her screen.
“Hi, Bear,” she said a little too excitedly.
“Hi, Aasia.” His laughter skated across the line. “The crew and I are at Oscar’s. I’m looking for that rematch you promised me so get your behind over here.” The playfulness in his tonetickled the back of her throat as relief spread over her. Maybe they could be friends again and get over the awkwardness. It never failed that he made her smile.
“Sorry. I can’t tonight. I’m making dinner.” The “rematch” Bear referred to was a game of pool. Last time she’d beat him in three games, fair and square, and walked away with his money and a free beer. She thought he’d learned his lesson not to challenge her again.
“You? Cooking dinner? Let me hang up and call the right number.”
She laughed but it sobered. “Bentley’s on his way too.”
“I should have guessed.” There was a new hitch to Bear’s voice. “Are things good now?” Doubt clung to his every word.
“I wouldn’t say “good’.” The line went quiet. “You still there?”
“I’m still here.” She heard a muffled “you talking to your girlfriend” in the background. One of the hands was teasing him about being on the phone with her. “Can you shut the hell up for one damned second?” Bear growled.
“Excuse me?” Aasia said.
“Not you.” Bear chuckled. “I’m talking to Echo. He’s a sore loser. I need a worthy opponent.”
From the ruckus in the background there was a wild time happening at the bar. It was karaoke night which seemed to always draw in a crowd.
“Someone’s got his balls in a vice,” Echo taunted.
“Hold on a second,” Bear told Aasia. There was a muted thumping sound followed by a loud grunt.
“Damn it, Bear. That fucking hurt.”
“Can you all go do something and give me a minute?” Bear muttered.
Then there was silence. “Sounds like y’all are having a good time.” She braced the phone between her chin and shoulder so she could wipe down the countertop.
“A blast.” He didn’t sound too enthused. “You know how these jackasses are. They get a few beers in them and they can’t shoot a stick if their life depended upon it.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.” She dumped apple peel into the trash.
