Evans
I need to clear my head, so I drive all the way to Barcode. I probably shouldn’t have, since I had the whiskey, but I don’t feel anything while I’m driving except anger toward Ciara. Hopefully there are no cops following me. Cops or paparazzi, I can’t decide which is worse. “Evans Leonard: Alcoholic Arrested for DUI.” The gossip pages would have a field day with that headline.
I lose track of time as I sit at the bar, drinking whiskey and trying to pinpoint where everything went wrong. If our whole relationship is just going to be one fight after another, maybe I should just end it now, cut my losses. The thought gives me a physical pain in my chest.
The bartender, Kevin, brings me another whiskey. I’m on my third now.
“I’m surprised to see you here, boss,” he says, topping off my glass.
I shrug and take a sip. “It’s my business. I need to be here.” I hear the sound of high heels clicking behind me. Elena swings herself gracefully onto the barstool next to me. “Actually, you need to be at home with Ciara and your son.” She motions to Kevin to pour her a drink, and I wait until she’s taken a sip of her chardonnay before replying.
“I don’t think I belong at home right now,” I answered her honestly.
Elena raises her eyebrows. “What do you mean? Is something going on? Has there been more trouble at home?”
The back of my neck prickles as I hear her say more. I’ve definitely told Elena a lot about my personal life lately—maybe it’s not such a good idea to be sharing these details with her.
“So, have you talked to Aaron about location scouting? How are things with Vegas?” I clumsily changed the subject.
Elena waves her hand dismissively, her silver rings and bracelet reflecting the light. “We can talk business later. I’m more worried about you. How can I help?” She leans in close and places a hand on my wrist beneath my rolled-up shirtsleeves. I can feel the warmth of her skin, along with the cold metal of her rings, on my bare skin.
Wait, what the hell? I pull back so fast I almost tip over my glass of whiskey. I must be really messed up by the alcohol to think that Elena is trying to make a move on me. But. . . could she possibly be harboring romantic feelings for me? Sure, she denied it that time I brought up Ciara’s comment, and she hasn’t otherwise given me a reason to suspect that she likes me as more than a friend, a professional colleague, as her boss. I searched her face. Has our whole working relationship been an act? Is she trying to pretend like she’s rooting for me and Ciara, but really she wants Ciara out of the picture so she can have me to herself? How cliché would that be? What would the tabloids say?
I hope my bodyguards have kept the paparazzi out tonight. I don’t want any pictures of me and Elena sitting next to each other at a bar on the front page of some rag. I can see it now: “Evans Leonard:Spends Time Playing Boss and Secretary After Hours with Assistant.” Ugh. I’m making myself nauseous—or is it the whiskey?
Elena covers her mouth with her hand. “I hope that wasn’t too forward of me.” She must have realized that she’s not usually this touchy feely.
I feel my ears get hot. “No, I’m just jumpy, sorry.” But then Elena smiles at me warmly, her eyes sparkling as though she has a secret, and my fears come rushing back.
Oh my god. Is she hitting on me?