Page 9 of What Comes Around

He was tall, clean-cut, early thirties maybe. Expensive haircut. Confident smile.

“I’m Tim Jones,” he said, flashing teeth so white I briefly wondered if our dental plan covered that level of whitening.

“Ashley Richards,” I replied. “Nice to meet you.”

He popped one hip and leaned it against the edge of my desk like he was settling in for a long conversation.

Which was inconvenient. I had three spreadsheets open and zero patience.

“So,” he went on when I didn’t fill the silence, “on Friday night, some of us are heading to The Ember Lounge after work. Drinks. Music. Unwinding. Are you up for some fun?”

“Actually,” I said lightly, eyes drifting back to my screen, “I already promised myself an early night. Another time, maybe.”

“Oh, come on, Ashley.” He straightened, giving me his best wounded puppy expression. “You’ve got to meet people. I bet you haven’t even been off this floor yet. Come with us. I’ll introduce you to my department.”

I was opening my mouth to decline again when a voice cut in behind him.

“Excuse me.”

Tim froze.

“Don’t you both have work you should be doing?”

We turned at the same time.

Knox Sinclair stood directly behind Tim, arms crossed over his chest.

He wasn’t in a jacket. Just tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt, open at the collar. No tie. The fabric contrasted sharply against his tanned skin, the lines of his body impossible to ignore even when he was still.

His gaze was cold. Assessing.

Tim straightened immediately. “Sir. I was just—”

Knox didn’t look at him.

His eyes were already on me.

“Miss Richards,” he said calmly, “I’m going to need you to accompany me to the field today.”

I blinked.

That was new. Usually I was sent the data after meetings. Not summoned into them.

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“Good,” he replied. “Let’s get moving. It’s going to be a long day.”

Tim looked between us, clearly unsure how he’d just been dismissed without being dismissed.

Knox finally glanced at him.

“Mr. Jones,” he added coolly, “I believe your documents were meant for Julian.”

Tim flushed. “Yes, sir.”

He left. Quickly.

I watched him retreat with minimal sympathy, then gathered my tablet and stood.