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“So, the reason he didn’t take my number or left it on the bar rather is because, um… well, that was Beckham Archer.”
They stare at me unblinking, clearly confused.
“Wait, the man you tried to pick up is your new boss?” Taylor asks.
“Mm-hmm.”
“The same guy that is your dad’s best friend?” Sylvia says.
“One and the same.”
“Holy shit!” Taylor clamps her hands over her mouth before bursting into laughter. “What are the odds? Oh my God. Better yet, did he recognize you?”
“Yeah.” I hang my head as they both fire questions at me about how it went down and what he said to me.
“We both knew the moment I entered his office and my dumb ass called him Mr. Daddy Issues to his face!” Sylvia stands up, her chair shooting out behind her as she dramatically walks in a circle near our table before sitting back down.
“Go on. Sorry, this is just too much.” She laughs.
“I don’t think he heard me; it was half under my breath, but he acted like nothing happened. He introduced himself and we started talking about my background and the job duties and I just blurted out that I was so sorry for coming on to him and that it was because I’d been drinking and celebrating and it was completely out of character for me.”
“What’d he say back?”
“He said that when he read my name, he recognized it and realized who I was and that’s why he didn’t take my number.”
“Wait.” Taylor leans in. “He said that the reason he didn’t take your number was because of who you were as in, he would have if you weren’t who you are?”
I scrunch up my face at the way she worded the question. “Oh, I don’t know for sure actually. I mean, it kind of seemed that way. He didn’t say outright that if things were different, he would have taken it and called me. He was probably just being nice, didn’t want to reject me a second time to my face.”
Sylvia gets a coy look on her face. “I’d ask him.”
“Same.”
I look at both of them. “He’s my new boss. No way I’m going to ask him if things were different if he’d go out with me. Talk about awkward.”
I finish my drink and toss my napkin on my empty plate. I would actually love to know if that were the case. Trust me, that same thought has gone through my head about fifty times since our interview, but I know there’s no use in wondering because a man like that doesn’t break the rules for an inexperienced hookup with a woman twenty years his junior.
What’s that saying? Why go out for burgers when you have steak at home?
I can guarantee you that Beckham Archer could have the finest grade of steak at any hour, any night of the damn week.
“What’s his name again?” Taylor asks, pulling out her phone.
“Why?”
“I want to Google him, duh,” she says as if I should already know. “Name.”
“Beckham Archer.” I say it slowly, just the syllables on my tongue making me want to blush.
“God, even his name sounds hot. Like, there’s no way an ugly man would have that name.” She taps around on her phone for a second before gasping. “Oh, oh, hot damn.” She clutches at her imaginary pearls, then pinches her screen to zoom in on a photo.
“Lemme see!” Sylvia leans halfway into Taylor’s seat to look at the photo, both women bug-eyed.
“Do I want to know?” I take a sip of my ice water, praying it stops me from breaking out in a nervous sweat. Taylor slowly flips the phone around to reveal a shirtless image of Beckham with a smile on his face from ear to ear. He’s coming out of the water, droplets glistening off his broad shoulders and six-pack abs. The man is fucking chiseled.
Great, just what I didn’t need to know… How the hell am I supposed to focus around him now that I know for certain what’s beneath those designer suits?
“How does anyone look that good in a candid shot, in the sunlight, coming out of the ocean? Probably staged by paparazzi or something.” I roll my eyes, pretending to be unfazed.
