Bond Girl. Erin Duffy
Читать онлайн книгу.
so he took good care of us.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said. Even though I was thinking that he sounded a bit like a stuck-up snob. The butterflies in my stomach calmed down.
“Look at you in your jeans. That’s not business casual attire.”
“This isn’t a business meeting.”
“True. You look nice.”
I blushed as the butterflies returned with a vengeance. “Hey, how did you know where I lived anyway?”
“I got your address off the group master list. Nancy, Chick’s secretary, will give you anything if you ask her nicely.”
“So you’re stalking me.”
“Stalking implies the attention is unwanted. You’re here, so clearly I’m not stalking.”
“Fair enough.” I smiled.
“So what were you planning on doing tonight if you hadn’t met me for a drink?”
“I was debating going for a run, but otherwise nothing.”
“Do you run a lot?”
“I do. I like it, it helps me relax. Truth be told, I used to run more often, but it’s been hard to find the time since I get stuck working late so much. I don’t know how anyone does this job and manages to stay in shape. When I do finally get to the gym, my lungs will probably explode.”
“Yeah, you should try to find the time when you can. It makes a big difference.”
“What does?”
“Working out. We eat a lot in the office, and especially for girls it’s absurdly easy to put on weight.”
“Proud Mary” blared from the jukebox. I like loud music, so normally it wouldn’t have bothered me. But maybe it was time to ask the bartender to turn the volume down, because it sounded like Will had just called me fat, which clearly would be crazy. I mean, what guy invites a girl out for drinks and then tells her she’s fat? Especially when said girl is a size 4. OK, fine, sometimes I’m a size 6. But I have two dresses from Diane von Furstenberg and a pair of pants from J. Crew that are a size 4. I wear those a lot.
“What?” I asked quizzically.
“Nothing! It happens to all of us when we start. It’s impossible to work on the desk and not gain a little weight so I’m just saying you should try to keep exercising whenever you can. That’s all.”
I suddenly lost interest in my light beer. I wanted to leave the bar, go home, and do sit-ups. I put my glass down.
“Don’t go getting all sensitive on me. You look great. I didn’t mean to upset you. Forget I said anything.”
I figured I had two options: I could be THAT girl, the girl who made an issue of every little thing and ruined a good time on purpose, or I could forget about it, move on, and be breezy. I thought it best to be breezy, drink my beer, and then tomorrow eat nothing but Saltines and strap myself to the treadmill until I threw up.
There was an awkward pause before he said, “I’m sorry if I just put my foot in my mouth. I didn’t mean anything by it, honestly. Forgive me?”
“Yes, thank you.” I conceded.
“Tell me a little about yourself. All I know so far is that you’re really good at carrying pizzas.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the basics. Siblings?”
“One younger sister, Cat. She’s been seeing the same guy since high school and will probably be engaged soon. We don’t have much in common.”
“You aren’t dating anyone?”
“No. What about you?” Please say no.
“No one worth mentioning.” I felt my stomach flip-flop again. Was having drinks with Will breaking Chick’s rule about interoffice dating? No. This wasn’t a date. It was more like team bonding. “How did you end up at Cromwell?” he asked.
“It’s kind of the family business. My dad’s an i-banker. I used to visit him at work when I was little and I thought it was the most unbelievable place in the world. All the energy, all the people, all the noise. All I ever wanted to do was work in the Business.”
“And now here you are, Cromwell analyst extraordinaire.”
“My mom isn’t as psyched about it though. She didn’t really want one of her daughters in the ‘snake pit,’ as she calls it.”
“She sounds like a smart lady. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want my sister or daughter working on a trading floor. Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad you’re here because you seem like fun and you’re nice to look at, but still I can understand where your mom’s coming from. Sometimes the stuff that goes on, the things you must hear, aren’t really appropriate. For lack of a better word.”
I feigned outrage. “I’m something to look at? Bring in a poster and hang it up on the wall in front of your computer if you want something to look at.”
“I could, but it would get boring. You don’t bore me.”
“Gee, thanks for the compliment.”
Awkward silence lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“I’m an only child. I grew up in northern Virginia, and I went to UPenn for undergrad. I’ve been with Chick for four years now. I’m a VP, I’m a Capricorn, and I live on the Upper West Side.” Before I could ask him another question he continued. “Enough about me, though.” He slowly reached into his pocket and handed me a wad of singles. “Should we play some songs on the jukebox? You can tell a lot about someone from their music choices, you know.”
“So if I play Celine Dion or the Backstreet Boys, you’re going to make a run for it?”
“You bet. There’ll be a giant Will-shaped hole in the wall.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“You go put some tunes on. I’ll get us another round of beers.”
He elbowed my side to nudge me toward the jukebox. I was giddy. This was not good. I’d only met this guy a few months ago, and we had only interacted briefly in the office. I barely knew him, and I was already a smitten kitten.
I returned as the bartender slid two more Blue Moons in front of us. We chatted easily and, before I knew it, it was midnight, and we were both pretty buzzed. I still wasn’t sure exactly what we were doing, but I knew I was a happy girl. We stepped outside and walked south, toward my apartment. The air was cooler, and I wished I had brought a coat with me instead of banking on the unseasonably warm temperatures continuing once the sun went down. It was freaking November. Who goes out without a coat? I crossed my arms in front of my chest and shivered.
“You’re cold. I was going to walk you home, but why don’t you just get a cab here?”
I hadn’t realized he was planning on walking me home. Good- looking and a gentleman—not a bad combination.
“Thanks for the beers, this was fun,” I said as I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.
“It was. So I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there, bright and early.”
“You know, we should do this again soon.”
“I’d like that.”
“Great. It was nice hanging out with you tonight, Alex.”
“Yeah, you too.”
He closed the cab door behind me and turned to walk uptown.