Page 27 of About That Pact

Why do you work 24/7? His text buzzed in.

Funny timing since she had been asking herself the same thing. She packed up her laptop and left the office.

Partially, she truly enjoyed her career. There was always an opportunity for her to work normal business hours, but if she didn’t have anything else to do, she worked. It kept her busy and she liked being busy. On Mondays, she took a Zumba class, and on Wednesdays, she went to the gym. Tuesdays and Thursdays were her scheduled late days at work. Fridays too, unless her friends or brother demanded a hang out.

It was good for her to be busy. If she spent too much time by herself, the loneliness crept in. She was close to getting a cat for company. Just as she was getting back to her apartment, she thought how nice it would be to be greeted by someone. She could imagine having a cat would add some excitement to her life. She didn’t want to become a cat lady, but she was heading in the right direction if a cat was considered excitement.

Instead of divulging in her possible feline future, she responded to Rafe’s text.

Why don’t you work 24/7?

As soon as she sent the message, she wished she could retract it. Microsoft Office had the option, why hadn’t someone invented it for a text yet? This was a Shark Tank opportunity. If only she understood the mechanics of texting, she’d be all over this million-dollar idea.

Her phone rang, and it was Rafe.

“You realize how pathetic your text sounds, right?” He didn’t bother with hello. “I don’t work twenty-four seven because I have a life. I don’t let work consume me.”

She got comfortable on the couch to review the budget for Catch Me. “Of course, the great Rafe doesn’t work all the time. I’d like to add that work doesn’t consume me, it’s just a matter of whether or not I have something to do. Tonight, I have no plans, so I am going to work. That’s how it always is.”

“That’s disturbing. Don’t you have any hobbies?”

“Of course. Zumba on Mondays and gym on Wednesdays.”

“Wow, sounds exciting,” he sarcastically responded.

“They are,” she said with little gusto.

“Both of your hobbies are methods for you to work out. Don’t you have anything else you love to do? Something that isn’t penciled in a calendar?”

She sat in silence. Work as a hobby wasn’t going to prove she had a life.

“Sometimes I go to happy hour on Friday nights.”

Rafe didn’t respond. The time ticked as neither of them said anything.

Finally, he spoke. “I am picking you up at nine-thirty.”

With that, he hung up.

Who did he think he was bossing her around? Not that his demanding attitude deterred her from getting off the couch. She stomped around, getting ready in the twenty minutes she had. Once he got here, she was going to give him an earful.

“WHO EVEN GOES out this late?” Charlotte barked at Rafe the moment he walked into her apartment.

She was probably expecting him to take a step back, but he did the opposite. He grabbed her hand and walked in the direction of his car.

“You’re thirty-one, not eighty-one. Nine-thirty is not considered late.”

She smacked his hand. “Where are we going? I can’t be out at all hours of the night.”

He opened the passenger side door for her, but still held on so she couldn’t duck in yet. Smirking, he asked, “Why, is it a school night?”

She stuck her nose defiantly in the air. “Some people have a nine to five job. I like to be well rested for work.”

“Be honest.” Rafe took another step toward her. He was so close, he could see the different streaks of blue in her eyes. “What time do you actually go in to work?”

“Six-ish,” she admitted. Then added, “Sometimes later.”

He didn’t believe she went in later. “On average, what time do you leave work?”