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Inappropriate(9)
Author: Vi Keeland

“Alright.” The waiter nodded and then turned to me. “For you, sir?”

“I need a few more minutes.”

After the waiter walked away, I raised a brow. “Not hungry?”

“I’m always hungry. But I need to change the flat to my spare so I can drive the car to the tire shop. My roommate has to work at three, and she’s going to give me a lift back home so I don’t have to wait there. Last time they took hours, and now that I’m employed again…I have a ton of work to catch up on.”

I nodded. “Do you have AAA?” I wasn’t sure why the hell I’d asked. Was I going to go over and roll up the sleeves of my custom-made shirt and change it for her if she didn’t?

“No. But I know how to change it. I’ve done it before.” She laughed. “I once went on a date with a guy who got a flat while driving me home. He’d never changed a tire, so I changed it for him.”

I smiled. “I bet he didn’t get a second date.”

She finished off her wine. “Definitely not.”

My mind conjured up a quick flash of Ireland changing a tire. Only she wasn’t changing some guy’s tire while dressed for a date. She had on a pair of Daisy Dukes, a shirt tied in a knot exposing a fuck of a lot of tanned skin, her hair was in pigtails, and she had a smudge of grease on her cheek. The grease was fucking hot.

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “I’ll let people know to expect you back at work.”

Ireland stood, and I followed suit. She extended her hand. “Thank you for getting involved. Obviously, you didn’t have to. Especially after the horrible emails I sent.”

I nodded and shook. “I think everything worked out the way it should have.”

She gathered her purse and started to walk away, then turned back. “Oh…and I gave you my number for lunch. Obviously this means I can’t go out with you.”

“Of course.” I smiled. “Turns out you’re not my type anyway.”

Ireland narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly is your type?”

“The non-pain-in-the-ass type. Have a good day, Ms. Richardson.”

 

 

Chapter 5

 

* * *

 

Ireland

 

“You look insane, you know.” Mia looked up at the hat on my head. It was totally lopsided and had two weird points that stuck up. It gave off sort of a homeless-jester vibe. Not to mention it was going to be seventy-five degrees today. But I wore it on my drive to work every day anyway.

“You’re just jealous because Aunt Opal doesn’t crochet for you.”

“I love Opal. But, yeah…not jealous your aunt who is almost blind left me off her Christmas crochet gift list.”

I opened the passenger door and grabbed my bag. “Thank you for getting up and driving me at this ungodly hour. I didn’t want to call an Uber and risk getting to work late on my first day back. I owe you one.”

“You owe me a thousand. I’ll just add it to your tab.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“What time should I pick you up?”

“You don’t have to. I’ll get a ride or grab an Uber to the tire shop to pick up my car. I’ll just see you at home later.” The tire shop had called to tell me I also desperately needed brakes and an alignment. So my flat tire had turned into two days without a car.

“Are you sure? I have coverage at the spa today. In fact, I have no idea what to do with myself since Christian talked me into not doing treatments and only managing the place now. I can pick you up. We can even grab some lunch. Better yet, I’ll bring you back to the salon, and we’ll get a couple’s massage. My treat!”

Mia owned a successful medi-spa—the kind that did facials, Botox injections, massages, and laser treatments. Her fiancé was trying to teach her to be a manager instead of a worker bee, so she could prepare to open a second location.

“I’d love to. But I’m going to have to work late to catch up. Maybe we can grab some dinner when I get home?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t. I promised Christian I’d make him his favorite dinner—tortellini ala Mia.”

“What’s that?”

“Tortellini in a cream sauce. He loves the sauce, so I let him paint it on me when he’s done.”

“TMI, friend.” I laughed. “TMI. But I thought he wasn’t coming home until tomorrow?”

“He changed his flight.” She smiled like a bride three weeks away from her wedding day. “He said he missed me too much to stay another night after his last meeting. So he’s taking the last flight home. I’ll probably just crash over there tonight.”

I opened my mouth and pointed inside it with my finger, making a gagging noise. But the truth was, I envied her relationship with her fiancé. I wouldn’t believe most men were coming home early just to see their girlfriend of three years, but Christian was as head over heels for Mia now as when they first got together.

I got out of the car and held the door.

Mia wagged her finger at me. “Now be a good girl while you’re all alone tonight, and don’t email any CEOs to tell them what you think of them.”

I was never going to live that down. “I have a job again, don’t I?”

She shook her head. “No idea how that managed to work out.”

Yeah. Me either.

 

***

 

“Great show today, Ireland.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

My first day back on the air in two weeks felt good, and my adrenaline was already pumping to get started on tomorrow’s show. I had a renewed sense of pride in my work.

Siren poked her head into my office. She looked nervous. “Hey. So I wanted to clear the air. I hope you know I had nothing to do with Bickman giving me your job. I was shocked when he came to tell me he was promoting me.”

I could have pretended I believed her bullshit and gone back to the two of us playing ignorant, but she was young and needed someone to set her straight.

“Come in, Siren. Close the door behind you.”

She did, but stood right in front of the door.

I motioned to the chairs on the other side of my desk. “Please, take a seat.”

The poor thing looked pale. She’d played up to Bickman, and I’m sure she’d been thrilled when he handed her my job on a silver platter. But the bottom line was he’d abused his position, and really, she hadn’t done anything wrong…except maybe break girl code.

I sighed. “Most people think a beautiful woman doesn’t have to work as hard to get what she wants. And that might be true when she’s at a bar trying to get a drink, or when she’s in Home Depot trying to find someone to help her down the plumbing aisle. But it’s not true in the workplace. A beautiful woman often has to work twice as hard to be seen for who she is here. Because, unfortunately, there are still men out there who can’t see past beauty. I think you’re going to be a great reporter someday. But you’re not there yet. I wasn’t at your age either. And when you play into men like Bickman, and take a position you haven’t earned, you devalue yourself and all women. We need to stick together, not use beauty as a weapon against each other.”

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