Peak relaxation was cooking dinner in my apartment wearing sweats, my hair tied in a messy bun at the top of my head, with a glass of rosé on the counter while one of my favorite shows played on my tablet.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually indulged in such a night.
Usually, I worked late into the evening, booking meetings for Weston or following up on paperwork for Weston or being bombarded by texts from Weston asking where Milo had left his favorite stuffed hedgehog.
By the time I actually turned in for the night, I was normally exhausted. And the only thing I prayed was that my phone didn’t start ringing at two in the morning with another inane request from my boss.
Ex-boss.
But now I was free to dive into my guilty pleasure show,Hearts of the Highlands, without worrying I was going to be interrupted mid-episode with a Weston-shaped crisis. Sure, maybe I should be a little more concerned about the fact I was now unemployed and needed to start job hunting ASAP—I had some savings, but they wouldn’t last forever—but for this one night, I was going to enjoy not having to worry.
I was going to eat my weight in pasta and chicken Kiev while hot men in kilts rode horses through the heather-filled Highlands.
Because nothing was more relaxing than hot men in kilts.
I licked the end of the spoon I’d used to stir my pasta sauce, sighing happily as I watched a pair of horses gallop across the screen. I’d forgotten how much I missed my gorgeous Highland warriors.
At this exact moment, life felt almost perfect. I had nothing and no one to fret over. I was going to eat dinner, get drunk as shit, and demolish that tub of chocolate praline ice cream in my freezer.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I reached for it, spotting a message from Tess.Hope you’re enjoying your circus-free life!
I responded with a selfie of me in my sweats, wine bottle on the counter behind me, and a wide smile on my face.
Love that you’re making the most of your newfound freedom.
It would be better if you were here, I wrote.
I’ll have a glass tonight in your honor!she promised.
My phone buzzed again, this time with an Insta notification. I opened it, scrolling through the post I’d been tagged in. My stomach sank. It was about Weston. Narissa had tagged me as her “official source.”
I grabbed my rosé and gulped half the glass.Fuck. Was there a way to untag myself?
Moments like these used to kick me into high gear. Part of my job required discreetly monitoring Weston’s social media presence. If a scandal was coming down the line, the sooner we involved PR, the sooner the company could get out ahead of it. The last thing Kincaid Energy needed was its CEO to be dragged through the mud. I started to automatically shift into problem-solving mode…but then Tess’s words echoed in my head.
Not my monkeys. Not my circus. Not my problem.
Okay, sure, I didn’t feel great about the fact that I’d accidentally helped stir up this problem a little, but it’s not like I’d purposely tried to make Weston’s life more?—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I yelped, slopping some of my rosé as I jumped at the sound of someone pounding on my front door. I placed the wine glassdown where it was safe and turned off the stove top, hurrying down the hall to investigate.
When I was close enough, I pressed up on my toes, spying out the peep hole.Fuck.
I stepped back, threw open the door, and winced as I was met with the glaring face of Weston Kincaid.
4
LENA
Angry boss alert.
Scratch that.
Angryex-boss alert.
I didn’t have to spend a moment wondering what he was thinking. Judging by the deep scowl lines across his forehead and the way his dark eyebrows pulled together, Weston was beyond pissed off. A look like that used to send the sirens sounding in my head.
