“So, I have gossip,” Juliette said as we dug in.
“If you’re going to force us to listen to dumb stories again, this time they’d better be about actual people,” I said, opening my food carton.
Last time we’d had lunch, Juliette had told us some elaborate story about a woman dating a dozen guys. I’d been getting into it until I realized the people she was talking about weren’t actual friends of hers. She’d been reciting crap from the last few episodes of The Bachelor.
“Oh, this is about actual people. Though, I know you secretly want to know what happened to Kayla when she took Jeff home for her hometown visit and had to tell him she has a kid. But I’ll save that for after.”
“Gee, thanks,” I grumbled.
“Be nice, or I won’t tell you that I ran into my friend Trina earlier today in the ladies’ room.”
“Which one is Trina again?” Trent asked.
Juliette grinned and looked in my direction, even though I hadn’t asked the question. “She’s Blake Dickson’s assistant.”
Now that got my attention. “What did she have to say?”
“I asked her how her grumpy boss was doing. She said he’d been more tolerable lately.”
My fork froze with a shrimp halfway to my mouth. “I don’t want to know what’s making him more tolerable.”
She scrunched up her face. “Ewww. I didn’t go into that kind of detail. But she said he’s been seeing someone new. I thought you might want to know what the deal is between them.”
“The deal between who?” Trent asked.
I forgot I hadn’t yet told him about my run-in with Autumn. “I’ll catch you up in a minute,” I said. I lifted my chin to Juliette. “Go on.”
“Well, they’ve only been dating about a month and a half, and they only see each other once a week, that she knows of. Not surprisingly, The Dick makes his assistant make his dinner reservations.” Juliette shook her head. “She said Autumn’s only ever called the office once, when she was returning Dickson’s call. So things don’t sound too serious.”
Trent’s forehead wrinkled. “Autumn? The woman who ghosted you?”
I filled him in on what had transpired since the call I’d gotten when we were out to dinner. He leaned back in his chair.
“Shit. So what are you going to do?”
“Considering I need Dickson’s vote?” I shrugged. “Nothing.”
Trent and Juliette looked at each other. Some unspoken communication passed between them, and they both cracked up.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“You,” Juliette snorted. “You say it as if you actually believe it.”
“Believe what?”
“That you can control going after something you want.”
CHAPTER 6
* * *
Donovan
When Saturday night arrived, I was looking forward to doing absolutely damn nothing—maybe watch whatever new action flick was currently streaming, water my plants, kick my feet up on my coffee table, and suck back a cold beer or two. I deserved a reward. I’d managed to catch up on my billable hours, and I hadn’t broken down and called a certain woman whose name I would not be thinking about tonight—especially when I climbed into bed later. Over the last few days, I’d managed to talk myself down off the cliff I’d been standing on. I’d worked seven long years to get where I was today, and I was not going to let a woman fuck that up, especially not one who had no interest in me.
Nope. I was not interested in Autumn Wilde.
Not in the least.
I picked up the spray bottle on my kitchen counter and walked over to the first of more than a dozen plants scattered around my apartment.
“She’s not my type anyway.”
Spray. Spray.
As if to challenge that statement, my brain conjured up a memory of Autumn from our weekend together—long legs, creamy skin, gorgeous, deep red hair, tiny waist, and a pretty full ass for a little thing…
“Fine,” I grumbled. “So maybe she’s sort of my type—physically, anyway. But she’s definitely more work than I could handle.”
Spray. Spray.
Though…when I looked back at the weekend we’d spent together, which I’d definitely done on a few hundred occasions, work wasn’t exactly how I’d describe it. Just the opposite. Autumn and I had been holed up here in my apartment for three full days, and it was probably the most effortless good time I’d had in…maybe forever. We’d talked until the sun came up and spent the days renting movies, fooling around a bit, laughing, and falling asleep snuggled on the couch. I’d even done her damn laundry while she’d slept.
I shook my head and moved on to the next plant.
“Fine.”
Spray. Spray.
“But what the hell do you expect me to do? She’s not interested. Plus, she’s dating my boss. So does it even matter if she’s a walking wet dream who could make me smile for an entire weekend without having sex? Or that I can still smell her perfume right now even though I haven’t been near her in two days? Or that I can remember the taste of her from every kiss we’ve shared?”
Spray. Spray.
“I’ll tell you the answer. No. It doesn’t fucking matter.”
Even if there were a hundred reasons I couldn’t get her out of my mind, she was dating my boss. That alone had to tip the scale to the stay-the-hell-away side, clearly outweighing all the reasons to call her. I just needed to get my mind off of her for a while. That’s all.
So I finished watering my plants in silence, got a cold beer from the fridge, and sat down on the couch to scroll through the movie choices on Netflix. But as I watched the preview for some movie that seemed like it should’ve been titled Ocean’s Nine Hundred and Ninety or Whatever, my cell vibrated in my pocket. I briefly considered ignoring it, but the workaholic in me couldn’t let it go to voicemail. So I dug it out and swiped to answer a number I didn’t recognize as I brought my beer to my lips. “Donovan Decker.”
“Hi, ummm… It’s Autumn. I’m sorry to bother you.”
I immediately sat up and planted the beer on the coffee table. Something was wrong. I could hear the stress in her voice. “What happened?”
“It’s Storm. He ran away.”
I raked a hand through my hair. Shit. One of the terms of his release was that he had to remain under the direct care and control of Social Services. “How long has he been gone?”
“Since about four o’clock this afternoon. Today is his birthday. The last time he spoke to his mother, she promised she’d visit him on his birthday. She never showed up. Visiting hours ended at 3:30, and when the residence manager went to check on him, she found a broken window and Augustus was gone. They know they’re required to call the Probation Department if anything like this happens, but I’m friends with Lita, the manager there, so she called me first. I asked her if I could call it in… But that was five hours ago, and I never did. I didn’t know who else to call. Can I get him in more trouble if I continue to hold off on calling?”
“You can get yourself in trouble. As his social worker, you have a legal duty to act.”