The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(54)
She sipped her martini and said, “You’ll have to bring him around.”
Oh, if she only knew. “We’ll see. He’s kind of shy about relationship stuff.”
“I can still hook you up with my tattooed friend if this guy doesn’t work out. Not a shy bone in that dude’s body, if you know what I mean.” She arched a brow.
“Sounds good.” Yeah, there was no chance in hell that was happening.
Zoey smiled at me, and I was thankful we were on the same wavelength about keeping the Brogan news under wraps. Even though I liked Zelda, I respected Brogan enough to not say anything to anyone who worked in the office. The worst that could happen to me was being fired—well, and blacklisted from any media company on the west coast—but I had a feeling the consequences would be worse for Brogan, like headlines in the tabloids and lost clientele, especially when our firm had the utmost discretion for clients. If we couldn’t keep our private lives private, what did that say in terms of our services?
My phone buzzed in my lap, and I picked it back up.
Brogan: Hmm… You’ll get a happy boss?
Lainey: I’ll think about it. Not really a good enough incentive as is.
I put my phone back down and tried not to smile like a sap. Flirting with Brogan was like a good latte or bowl of ice cream—utterly satisfying, but with zero calorie guilt.
“What about you, Zoey?” Zelda asked.
Zoey had been uncharacteristically quiet about this shirtless dude from the other day. I was dying to know what was up with them because it’d been a while since she’d been in a relationship as well. But when it came to her personal life, Zoey didn’t like when people pried—she’d tell me when she was ready.
She stirred the straw in her Tom Collins and stared absently at the drink. “It’s complicated.”
“Does this have anything to do with Shirtless Dude?”
“His name is Ryder,” she muttered, a note of annoyance in her voice.
While Brogan had the lean build of a swimmer, Ryder had muscles on his muscles. The dude was a walking, talking Chippendales advertisement.
“Ryder the Shirtless, that’s quite a name.” Zelda said.
I couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the best of me, and I broke our sacred rule and started to pry. “How did you two meet, anyway?”
She cast her gaze to her drink. “Through work.”
“Work?” If interior designers looked like that, I obviously went into the wrong profession because, besides Brogan, everyone in the office had a severe case of pancake ass from sitting all day.
Her eyes glazed over, and I could tell she was off in her own head, probably thinking about Ryder. As it was, it took every bit of restraint to stay present in our girl’s night and not check my phone every two seconds. “He works for a firm I’m contracted with. I’m redesigning their offices,” she said.
“And I’m sure you were just doing a little bit of Feng Shui furniture rearrangement when he came over the other night?” I mused.
She plunged her straw into her drink, and the ice rattled against the glass. “I’d rather not talk about it. Unless you want to share about your love life.” She leveled me with a look that said I’d gone too far.
I swallowed hard and tried to catch her eye to say that I was sorry. “I’m good.”
On cue, my phone buzzed again. I discreetly checked it while Zoey and Zelda were arguing over the difference between male dancers and strippers.
Brogan: You drive a hard bargain. I could think of other things to give as payment.
Suddenly parched, I reached for my beer, guzzling it down.
Lainey: All I hear is your mouth running. Full of empty promises, Starr.
Brogan: I’m sure my mouth could be of use.
Um, yes, please and thank you.
Lainey: Consider the cookies a done deal.
Chapter Nineteen
Starr Media Handbook Rule #7
Change your password often to prevent security breaches.
The office was in complete mayhem when I arrived at seven the next morning. Or to put it better, Brogan was in a complete frenzy, with everyone around him trying to accommodate. Jackson glanced over his computer monitor and let out a low whistle.
“What?” I said, tossing my bag into the bottom drawer of my desk.
“I heard you’re in a lot of trouble.”
“Trouble?” My brows slid together. What the hell was he talking about? What could I have possibly done in the twelve hours I’d been away from work?
“Didn’t you see what Craig Willington messaged out this morning?” Someone really needed to wipe that smug smirk off his face.
Oh crap. My account? That just couldn’t be possible…could it? The hair rose on the back of my neck. “No.” I hadn’t even scheduled any posts. That was on my to-do list for this morning, in fact, because I hadn’t touched his account since Monday. I pulled up the social media site and clicked on Craig’s profile. My fingers froze on the mouse as I stared at his latest post.
Craig_Willington: Hey, Gordy, I hope your momma enjoyed being bent over last night. Tell her to give me a call if she wants to ride on my big blue combine with her hayfield again anytime soon.
A middle finger emoji concluded the spiteful message.
I froze, my mouse hovering over the post. Holy crap buckets. Did Craig just call out one of country music’s biggest stars? Craig didn’t even know how to work anything past the camera function on his smart phone. No way could he navigate social media and use an emoji—so what the hell was going on? I looked at the time stamp—fifteen minutes before I’d arrived.