Deconstructed(81)

So when Ty called and suggested we meet up for drinks, I stupidly said yes even though I wasn’t totally enthusiastic. In hindsight, I had probably agreed because I wanted to check myself on how I felt about Dak, and the best way to see if those heartstrings had indeed been plucked was to sit on a stool in a fancy restaurant, swilling expensive wine with a rich pretty boy.

Obvs.

“So how was your day?” Ty asked, looking earnest in his soft cotton button-down and dress slacks. The shirt fit him like someone had sewn it right on to him and was unbuttoned at the neck to show that sexy dip between the collarbone. His jaw was smooth and suitably manly, and he smelled like a pullout sample from Town & Country magazine. Total-package kind of guy . . . but what was beneath all that fancy ribbon?

“It was good. I closed early and met Cricket at a bar. I didn’t drink, though, so I’m not sloshed or anything. Cricket’s been going through a rough patch lately.” Ah, there I went, doing a bit of testing of a different body of water.

“Oh? Like how?”

He was interested. Hmm. “Just her marriage and stuff. Her husband is a bit of a dick.”

“Scott?” Ty lifted a finger at the bartender, ordering another bourbon. “I think he’s a nice guy. He’s, you know, like every other guy my dad’s age—still trying to keep the juice up—but he’s all right. They having marriage trouble, huh?”

I needed to be careful here. “Yeah, I guess. Cricket’s kind of private. She seems to think he’s up to something.”

Ty’s gaze shifted away from me, and perhaps there was a little tightening of his jaw? Interesting. “Like cheating on her? Or . . . something else?”

I shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think she thinks he’s cheating. I think she just feels like their marriage needs work, but he’s been really distracted lately, so I think she may be concerned. I’m just her sounding board on ways to jazz things up.”

He looked relieved. Maybe. “Like in the bedroom? That’s crossing the line, isn’t it?”

“Oh, because I’m her employee? Yeah. I suppose. But we’re friends.”

“Well, that’s good. Scott’s been a friend of my dad’s for a while. Scott was my uncle Sam’s best friend back in the day. He’s been helpful to my dad, just introducing him to friends and stuff. I would hate to think Cricket is, you know, thinking he’s a bad guy.”

“Well, I’ve never been impressed by him. Glad you like him, though.”

Ty shrugged. “He’s cool. I guess. And it’s good you get along well with your boss.”

“Yeah, Cricket is really helping me put together a plan for my business. And no worries, I can’t really help anyone in the bedroom, so we don’t go there.” I gave him a self-deprecating laugh with the intention of steering him away from talk about Cricket having suspicions. I had done the litmus test, and it felt very evident to me that talk of the Crosbys made him nervous. Which seemed to point to him knowing exactly what his old man was up to. Which made him suddenly not attractive at all.

But if Cricket could lie beside Scott every night, pretending to be a loving wife, then surely I could pretend to like Ty enough to glean any information that might help Cricket nail not only her asshole of a husband but also the chief douchebag and his mini-me son who was sitting in this spendy bar no doubt buying me overpriced drinks on someone’s hard-earned retirement. Maybe. My gut was good at telling me exactly who people were.

Ty smiled at me in a flirty way. “I bet you do all right in the bedroom.”

And, ick.

“So how was your day?” I decided to change the subject.

“Same ol’. Just filing paperwork and dealing with all the red tape that comes with buying and developing property. It’s super fun,” he drawled with a roll of his eyes.

“Where are y’all buying property? I thought your dad works in investments or something.”

“He does. But we have several companies under the umbrella. I run the legal and some of the development side of things, like the land stuff. Dad runs the investments. It’s complicated, and I don’t want to bore you with the monotonous details.”

“’Cause I’m not smart enough?” I couldn’t help myself.

“No,” he said, looking at me with an incredulous laugh. “Because it’s very uninteresting.”

Probably not to the SEC. But I didn’t say that, of course. So I said nothing.

Ty looked worried. “You know I know you’re smart. And you’re very talented. I can tell your dresses will do well. Look at how everyone couldn’t keep their eyes off you at the gala. I thought I was going to have to fight a few guys who were looking as if they might like to take that pretty dress off you.”

“You’re pouring it on a little thick,” I said, letting him off the hook.

“Maybe you’re worth pouring it on. You want another drink?” he asked, nodding toward the half inch of wine left in my goblet.

“Nah, I have an early class, and then I’m closing tomorrow afternoon. Busy day.”

Ty leaned in closer, stroking my shoulder bared by the tank I had paired with some super-distressed jeans and heeled zip booties. “Wanna come see the house I just bought in Trace? There’s a hot tub overlooking the seventh hole.”