Page 9 of Last Night Was Fun

A warm rush of pride washed over Emmy, but now was not the time. “No, not that. Why did you offer to buy us drinks?”

Alice arched a knowing brow at her. “Because they wouldn’t have invited you if I hadn’t. They were halfway done making plans already.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to hang out with them.”

“Emmy, that’s not the point. You know how things go around here. Hell, I taught myself to golf so they’d stop making decisions on the course without me. I’m pretty good now.” She proudly tilted her head.

Emmy grumbled, knowing the proverbialtheyAlice referred to meant all the men they worked with, but really, men in any corporate setting. She’d been around long enough to know if she didn’t purposely insert herself in extracurricular activities, she’d get left out. Most of the time, that was fine with her, because her liver quivered at the mere thought of a pub crawl through the Gaslamp, surely the night out that Pedro would have planned. But on more than one occasion, she’d heard her team talking about the round of golf they’d played with the director, or she found out they had critical information about an upcoming trade she didn’t because they’d learned about it over drinks she hadn’t been invited to. Those were the times being the only girl worked to her disadvantage the most. Alice was right: Emmy needed to insert herself so she wasn’t left out—yet another thing that required extra effort. With a promotion on the line, face time with her colleagues was probably a good thing.

“It’ll be fun,” Alice said, and softly punched her in the arm as she began to walk away.

Emmy tried for a smile, but it came out more of a grimace. She suddenly needed a break from it all, which did not bode well, seeing as it was only minutes into Monday morning.

She left the hall and headed for the communal kitchen. On her way there, she opened her group chat with her parents and Piper and shared the news.

I made it to the next round!

Piper instantly responded, surely still in her sweatpants and working from home. She wrote content for tech companies and had worked completely remote for nearly five years now. Their mother, a nurse at a VA center, would be slower to respond, and their father, a nearly retired accountant, was more likely to call her later than respond to a text, though he’d told her he always read them.

Woo hoo!Piper wrote.You and who else?

Gabe Olson.

KICK HIS ASS.

Emmy laughed out loud at her sister’s message as she reached for a bag of crunchy cookies from the snack rack. Aside from the snacks, the small kitchen with golden walls held two round tables usually littered with crumbs, a set of uncomfortable chairs, a coffee station, a fridge with fermenting leftovers no one except Emmy ever cleaned out, and a microwave that often smelled like reheated Thai food thanks to their department’s communal favor.

“Smiling again, Jameson?” Gabe said from behind her.

She slightly jumped and turned to see him entering the kitchen with his own smile.

Her smile dropped into a frown. “Did you follow me in here?”

“Of course not,” he said, and joined her at the snack rack. His cologne swirled around her when he lifted his arm to reach for the rack. He always smelled like someone had zested an orange over cinnamon bark and amber. The zip of citrus was strongest in the morning, like now, and faded to a warm, spicy scent as the day wore on. She knew the profile so well because she sat beside him all day, and the fresh, leathery fragrance did something heady to her that she did not care to admit to. He grabbed a bag of salted rice cakes, and she snorted a laugh. “What’s funny?” he asked.

“You’re so desperate to hide the fact you followed me that you’repretendingyou came in here for food, and now you have to eat that sorry excuse for a snack.”

Gabe scowled at her as if it weren’t true. “For your information, Iloverice cakes.”

Emmy folded her arms and blinked at him. “Prove it then. Eat them.”

“I will,” he said with a cocky tilt of his head. He pulled the bag open and plucked out a sad little wafer. He popped it in his mouth and noisily crunched. “Mmm, these aresogood.”

Emmy watched him with a satisfied smirk. “You know what’s better than a rice cake?” she said over the sound of tearing her little bag open. “A cookie.” The mini chocolate chip biscuit made an even more satisfying crunch because she knew he was eating something far inferior.

They stared each other down, each chewing their respective snacks. A muscle twitched in his jaw with every bite, drawing her attention to the chiseled nature of his face. He had chocolaty brown eyes and obscenely full lashes. Like the kind she’d pay someone at a salon to glue to her lids. His chin had an annoying dimple in it, and his cheekbones may well have been arches in a cathedral. The symmetry of it all was simply unfair. And then there was the rest of his body that Emmy had to force herself not to look at becausewowhe was in shape, and how dare he wear shirts that so specifically showcased his arms? It was rude—hewas rude. And there would be no fraternizing with the enemy!

Gabe blinked like he’d been studying her just as intently. Then he cleared his throat like he might have been choking on a rice cake. When he managed to find his voice, he said, “I really came in here because I wanted to say congrats. On making it to the next round.”

“Oh,” she said, thrown again. Was this some kind of backhanded trick to make her lower her guard? An attempt at weakening her walls so he could swoop in and steal her job? Just in case, she wasn’t going to let on she was suspicious of him. “You too.”

“Thanks.” He popped another rice cake in his mouth and crunched it. “Sorry I’m going to have to beat you though.”

Emmy kicked herself and glared at him. She should have known he was putting on a front. “You’re such an ass, Olson.”

He grinned at her. “Hey, you never told me what you did this weekend.”

“Because it’s none of your business.”