Page 37 of Final Proposal

“Yes. Fine.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.” I chuckle and spare a fleeting glance her way to find disquiet etched in her expression.

“It’s a long story.” She waves a hand my way as if to say it’s irrelevant. “Let me help you with that.”

“No, I’ve got it. Why don’t you take off?”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’ll have Phillip give you a ride home,” I say, mentioning my driver who’s taken her home before.

“I couldn’t impose. I’m sure you need him for—”

“I have an hour or two left here. Please. I insist.”

She gives me a halfhearted smile and nods. “Okay. Thank you.” She lifts her designer tote bag weighed down with her laptop onto her shoulder and looks around to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. Her eyes meet mine one last time. “I appreciate the pep talk, Fordham.”

I watch her walk out the conference room door, her heels clicking on the marble floors. The elevator dings. The door shuts. I take a seat and lean back in my chair, hands behind my head, feet propped up on the table, and exhale a long, low breath.

I know they’re already there.

I know they’ve been waiting for her to leave to make a comment.

“Shouldn’t you both be home with your families?” I crack one eye open and see Callahan standing, shoulder leaning against the doorway.

“Snaggletooth is looking absolutely horrid tonight.” Callahan coughs out a laugh and raises his eyebrows in appreciation.

Ledger whistles. “And you’re going to be living on-site with her for how long?”

I lift my middle finger at my brothers and then go back to closing my eyes and ignoring them.

“Beds everywhere,” Callahan says.

“Long nights alone. Just you. Just her. Just sheets to get tangled up in,” Ledger adds.

“If you looked close enough, she has a ring line on her finger,” I say.

“But no ring on it.” Ledger lifts his eyebrows and glances at Callahan. “So . . . she just broke up? She needs a good rebound screw?”

“Ha. That’s what I thought and look where that landed me,” Callahan teases, but I know he wouldn’t change his life for the world. “Married with kids.”

“Rebounds can be good. Great sex. No want for attachment.”

“Hell, Ledge, I think we should give him the same speech you two gave me when I headed to Ocean’s Edge to work with Sutton,” Callahan says, referring to a conversation we had the week before he left to go to the Virgin Islands with his then consultant—now wife.

“I don’t remember any conversation,” I mutter, full-well knowing what’s coming, and wishing for a beer to at least give me something to do while enduring this harassment.

“Selective amnesia. Convenient.” Ledger snorts.

“Let me refresh your memory. Something like: don’t sleep with her. Be professional. It’s our name on this company too, not just yours.” Callahan flashes a shit-eating grin at me. “Would you like me to keep going?”

“And you followed the rules so well.” I lift my eyebrows and level him with a look.

He shrugs. “Yeah, but breaking rules is expected of me.”

“And what exactly is expected of me?” I ask.

And isn’t that the question of the day?