Page 17 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

a business dinner

Grant

It’s early enough that I figure she won’t yet be there.

I’m such a pussy that I’m walking to her office at a time when I don’t actually expect her to be in.

Because if she’s not there, then I can just leave a note and tell her I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick.

I won’t have to look her in the eyes and explain why it’s taken me two full weeks to come back down here to see her and apologize.

Two weeks since I started this job. Two weeks since I acted like a cold, uncaring bastard.

I’d blame it on being busy, but I could’ve made it happen.

When I get to Devon’s office, the lights are on, but she’s not around. Good, I guess. I grab a pen and a Post-it, write a note, and stick it to her monitor.

Hey,

Sorry I was an ass.

Let’s talk sometime.

GG

Her computer is powered on, which means she’s around in the building somewhere. Maybe I should just wait for her.

The big pussy in me opts to duck out, but as I walk out into the hall, I see her emerging from the ladies’ room. She looks surprised to see me, her eyes going wide, but her hand is holding her stomach, and her skin tone looks a little off-color. Kind of greenish.

“Hey, you okay?”

She gives me a weak smile. “Just been a little off the past few days. A virus or something, maybe.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“No, too busy.”

“Oh, are we sending too many clients your way, or—”

She laughs softly and shakes her head at me.

“No, not at all. I don’t think I’ve told you that I have a whole side gig. I’m writing a cookbook and I also run a small nutrition consultancy and cooking school. There’s too much to do, no time to be sick.”

“Well, rest helps. Can you take a few days off and recuperate? Maybe you’re just running yourself too thin?”

“Maybe,” she says. “It’s slow here right now, with so few players around. I could maybe take a day off this week.”

“Well, you have my permission, if it helps any.” I flash her a smile.

Devon looks unimpressed.

“I, uh, actually came down here to find you.” The need to explain myself to this woman is real.

It may be a new experience for me to be doing this, but still something I can’t put off any longer.

“I wanted to apologize…for that first day. I was really caught off guard seeing you working here, and I didn’t know how to play it.

I panicked. It was so stupid, and I feel like a fuckin’ ass, but for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry. ”

“Oh gosh,” she answers, straightening her posture and pulling her hair back in a long ponytail. Her color has improved a little in these few moments we’ve been talking. “It’s no big deal. I totally get it. New job, lots to learn. You weren’t expecting to run into someone you recognized.”

“Or, specifically, someone I’d been intimate with.” My voice is almost husky as I say this. Goddamn, why can’t I control myself in her presence? I quickly add, “I guess you could say I’m ripping the Band-Aid right off with this.”

She blushes and it’s maybe the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a while. “Yeah, well, that is the truth of it, right? It is awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be, though. That night was—”

“In the past, Grant.”

I bite the inside of my lip as I consider her. She’s giving me an out. What’s in the past can stay in the past. No harm, no foul. No reliving it—even as good as it was. Even though I want to. Many times.

But she’s right—even about what she’s not saying out loud. Which is: we need to be professional and work together as colleagues only.

As if reading my mind, she says, “You’re the new GM. You don’t need rumors swirling around about you. Not about stuff like this. I can’t risk my job either.”

I give a short nod. “Sure, right. Of course.”

“Okay, then we’re good. All is well.” Devon starts to turn away, heading for her office. “It was good to see you. I do appreciate the apology.”

As she walks away, I can’t stop myself from adding, “Hey, Devon?”

She turns, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in question.

“Would you want to go to dinner with me tonight?” When I see her mouth open in protest, brows furrowed, I rush to add, “Nothing inappropriate. I just don’t know anyone here. I could use a friend and I also want to pick your brain about the team and your approach to nutrition with them.”

“A business dinner?”

“A business dinner. That’s all. Nothing more than that.”

“Okay,” she says after a moment.

“Awesome. I’ll swing down here around five? You can pick the place.”

She nods and turns away again. I watch her for a moment before heading my own way, resisting the urge to turn myself right back around to see her again.

All day I am distracted.

I keep having to stop my knee from bouncing. Or having to bring my focus back online after my attention wanders to a certain employee working several floors below me.

I have now come to terms with the fact that this “business dinner” was merely a ruse.

Just a way for me to get to spend some time with Devon Pearson.

I’ve felt the pull every day I’ve been here. Every fucking day for two weeks, I’ve wanted to go talk to her and explain my actions. For two long weeks, I’ve longed to ask her to forgive me for being a heartless prick when we were introduced.

And she just let me off the hook for all of it.

Said it was no big deal.

Understood why I behaved the way I did.

Wasn’t mad.

And I believe that she’s telling me the truth.

Fuck me sideways.

I know I should just walk away from this potential drama.

I know I should keep things ultra-professional with Devon on those rare occasions our paths might cross.

I know it would be best for me to just leave things alone and in the past where they should stay.

Of course, I know all of this and what I should be doing where Devon is concerned.

The problem is my “little brain” has no interest in listening to what I should be doing, nor listening to the bigger and more logical brain residing behind my skull.

My dick doesn’t fucking care. I do know that much.

It wants Devon Pearson again on any terms it might have her.

It’s possible I’ve made a huge mistake by inviting her to dinner. But right now, I don’t fucking care, either.