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This must be the infamous Reynolds family. Georgia had her head tipped back in a full-bodied laugh as another woman with long, dark hair stood close, saying something to her with a big smile on her face. There was a big dude with long hair, and his arm was wrapped around another woman with dark hair. A taller dude held a little girl in his arms, and another guy huddled around them, telling a story with his arms flying all over the place. An older attractive couple held hands and stood there watching them with complete adoration.
Like something out of a goddamn movie. They were all unusually good-looking, and it was obvious they were all close and comfortable with one another. The hostess who’d seated us approached the big dude with the long hair and the woman beside him, and they both said something to the group before heading in the opposite direction. That must be the brother who owned the place. The rest of the group made their way to a table not far from mine.
Georgia was talking a mile a minute when her gaze found mine, and she halted. Her eyes moved to Heather, and she said something to her family as they took their seats, and she walked toward my table.
My dick reacted immediately at the sight of her, which pissed me off. He was supposed to be reacting to Heather, not to my employee.
She wore a pair of dark skinny jeans, boots that didn’t have a heel, but came up her legs, ending just above her knees. It somehow managed to be sexy as shit. She wore a cream turtleneck sweater, and her hair fell in big, fat waves around her shoulders.
“Hey,” she purred as she approached the table.
“Hey, Georgia, this is my friend, Heather. Heather, Georgia is my assistant at Lancaster Press.” I motioned to my date. Heather’s red lips formed a straight line as she glanced up at my assistant with the warmth of an iceberg.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Georgia said, extending a hand. Heather looked down at her hand for an awkward amount of time, before taking just the tips of Georgia’s fingers in her grasp for all of two seconds before completely looking away and making it clear that she wasn’t interested in chatting.
It pissed me the fuck off.
I knew she could be cold, but I’d never seen her behave like this.
“Nice to meet you,” Heather said, but she was looking at me and not at the woman standing at our table.
“Hello? Yoo-hoo? I think you see me standing here,” Georgia said, leaning her hand over the table and waving it up and down in front of my date’s face as a loud laugh escaped my mouth.
The balls on this girl.
Heather startled and gasped, turning to look at her. “I see you.”
“Ahhh… well, I see you, too.” Georgia smirked. Her words had more meaning in them than the simple acknowledgement she’d made.
“Well, I think you’re off the clock now, so…” Heather said, her lips turning up in the corners.
“I’m never really off the clock with Bossman.” Georgia acted completely unfazed by how rude my date was behaving. I was not happy, and I would definitely let Heather know it. “You two have a nice evening.”
She turned on her heels and marched over to her table. The older man, who I assumed was her father, saved a seat for her beside him, and the way he looked at her was the way a father who adored his child should look at them. I’d never been on the receiving end of that kind of adoration from my father.
Our server came to the table, and we ordered our drinks and dinner. I wanted to get things moving because I was already done with this date. After she stepped away, I looked at the woman sitting across from me.
“That was uncalled for. You were rude.”
“She’s your assistant, not a client. I didn’t think I needed to try with her.” She looked up at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge.
“So, you pick and choose who you make an effort with?” I hissed, as the waitress set our wine glasses down, and I took a sip.
“Of course. I don’t waste energy on people who aren’t important. And she’s not important.”
My blood boiled.
She couldn’t be more wrong.
And I couldn’t wait to send her on her way the minute we finished eating.
My dick would have to wait for my right hand once again tonight.
I’d rather get off thinking of my assistant for the millionth time this week than spend the night with this woman.
Check, please.
eleven
