Page 21 of The Beat Match

He flashed his white teeth. “Told you I would. And you look…” He whistled.

Everyone introduced themselves. Duncan’s black slacks and slicked hair stood out as expected, but he seemed at ease, chatting easily with the girls. Slowly, Annie sloughed off her discomfort.

He linked his elbow through hers and led them back to the bar. From behind him, Vivian mimed picking her nose with a hooked finger—their save-me-before-I-die signal. Annie shook her head. She didn’t need an escape, but it was nice having a friend nearby, and even nicer that the personal questions had ceased. Duncan knew enough about her past to hopefully steer clear of that minefield.

“So, Annie Ward, this is your thing.” He leaned on the bar, close enough to brush arms.

She tried to avoid deep whiffs of his spicy cologne. “If you mean the club scene, then yeah. I’m guessing it’s not yours.”

“Not at first glance, but I’m a believer in stepping out of my comfort zone. Just wouldn’t have pegged you for a club rat.”

“Why’s that?”

“Although you look stunning tonight, you don’t normally dress the part. And I figured…” He scanned the space, swallowed twice. “With your history, I figured you’d stay away.”

Her history. Leo’s death. The club shooting.

Instead of avoiding that minefield, Duncan had stepped right in it.

She often wondered what it would be like to just leave. Start fresh in a new town where people didn’t know her. A blank slate in a blank life she could fill the way she filled her scrapbooks, with hope and happiness. The non-deface-Weston-style of scrapbook. But Wes lived in New York. No matter his faults and her recent troubling fantasies, she couldn’t picture her life without him. Plus moving wouldn’t keep innocent questions like Vivian’s at bay.

“I got into this scene recently,” she told Duncan. The truth. “If you let memories haunt you, they control you.” Talking about them was a different story. “How about a drink?”

He waved a credit card at the bartender and handed it over. “Start us a tab. Martini extra dry for me. And the lady will have…”

“Another margarita,” she finished. “You don’t have to buy my drinks, though.”

“I told you, I’m basically a professional dater. Just try to resist me.”

“So, that makes you a male escort?”

He recoiled. “Me? No. That’s ludicrous.”

The guy made it too easy. “Professional implies paid services.”

He paused, narrowed his eyes, then laughed. “Quick on the jabs, Ward. I see why Weston likes you so much.”

“Weston likes me as much as he can control me.” If he knew she wasn’t home rabbit-squirrel sitting, or that she was on a date with Duncan, his head would implode. But she didn’t want to talk about Wes. Part of this date was about pushing thoughts of him from her mind.

“You should give the guy a break,” Duncan said. “You know how much he works. I’ve actually been worried about him lately.”

Something in Annie’s chest pinched. “Worried how?”

Duncan shrugged.

The DJ was finishing her set while another guy set up. Annie didn’t imagine Falcon would play in that narrow section of stage. He was likely setting up behind the curtain, would add a theatrical element to his performance. He was creative like that. She should watch the stage in case he appeared early and she could flag him. Instead she angled her back to the action and searched Duncan’s face. “Wes is used to working hard. It’s his motto. Why would you be worried?”

“You know about the merger?”

“Only that it’s a big deal to him.”

“Well, it’s getting complicated. Wearing him down. He looks more tired than usual and seems distracted. I’ve tried talking to him, but he brushes me off. I was hoping he’d confided in you.”

Weston didn’t lean on others. He was his own pillar of strength, one she’d leaned on more times than she could count. If she really thought about it, their relationship was pretty one-sided: him giving, her taking. His generosity often came in the form of orders, advice, and money, but it was because he cared. Yet he’d asked her for a favor today and she’d pawned it off on Duncan’s step-sister the first chance she’d gotten, all while Wes stretched himself thin to keep his moving pieces in check.

She pictured his busy office building, the floors filled with thousands of employees. And that was just New York. Aldrich Pharma had offices in multiple cities, all those employees relying on Wes and his team. The strain on him must be incredible. “I’ll talk to him. But I’m not sure I can help.”

“Just talking might help, and you can always come to me. I know what he’s dealing with. I might have some insight you can relay to him.”