Diary of a Bad Boy(29)

Sutton: You’re refusing to answer my phone calls.

Roark: You can stop those by the way. I’m never going to pick up. Stop wasting your time. Work efficiently.

Sutton: I highly doubt you’re the one to be giving out advice on work ethic.

Roark: I don’t know. My bank account thinks otherwise.

Sutton: You’re so full of yourself.

Roark: And yet you keep texting me.

Sutton: When are we meeting?

Roark: Tomorrow, noon, at Makers on Broadway.

Sutton: What? Are you serious?

Roark: Yes, don’t be late.

Sutton: You better not be kidding me.

Roark: I would never.

Sutton: Yeah, right.





Clutching my folder close to my chest, I shift from side to side, looking around for Roark. I’m early so I don’t need to panic yet, but he does have a track record for not showing up, and his instant change of heart was a little startling. I almost didn’t believe him, so when I called the restaurant to see if he made reservations and he did, I was shocked to say the least.

“Miss Green, your table is ready. This way.”

“Thank you.” I glance back at the door one more time before heading toward the back of the restaurant. She sits me next to a window, offering me a street view. At least I can keep an eye out for Roark if he walks this way.

After getting situated, I pick up the menu but all the words kind of float together, making it impossible to concentrate. To be honest, I’m a little nervous about seeing Roark again. Not because of what we have to talk about, but because of the way my body reacts to him whenever he’s around. I get all hot and bothered, my face flushes, and for some reason all I can picture is his ass when he talks to me.

I might also think about it when he texts.

I blame him.

Butt cheeks should be sacred, not something you show a stranger willy-nilly, and do you know why? Because when you have nice, tight butt cheeks, it’s all the other person can think about. And is that fair? No.

Now you can see my apprehension of seeing Roark.

Butt cheeks.

Firm, tight butt—

“Miss Green?”

Startled, I nervously laugh and look up to find a young lady with brown hair standing over me, a welcoming smile on her face and a laptop bag clutched to her side.

“Yes?”

She holds out her hand proudly and says, “I’m Siri, like the lady on the phone.”

“Uh . . . hi.” I shake her hand, because I don’t want to be rude.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” She sets her bag down and removes her jacket before taking a seat across from me. “Can you believe this weather? They have no idea what to do with all the snow, but of course the city never sleeps, right?” She picks up the menu and gasps. “Oh, I love a good wedge salad.”

Am I missing something?

Who is this Siri, and why does she know me?

And why is she acting like I’ve been expecting her this whole time?

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Siri looks up at the waitress and nods. “Unsweetened iced tea please, and can I get the wedge salad? I’m famished.” She hands off the menu and smiles at me.

“And for you, miss?”

I blink a few times, utterly bewildered. What is happening right now?

“Uh, I’ll have the same,” I answer, perplexed.

Once the waitress leaves, Siri starts up again. “Do you have a love affair with wedge salads too? I’ll tell you, it’s an absolute problem for me. Whenever I see one, I always get it because I can’t help myself. It’s the bacon. I really think it’s the bacon. What about you?”

Smiling psychotically—I can feel it—I nod and gently place my hands on the table, trying to be as nice as possible. “I’m sorry”—I swallow hard—“but do we know each other?”

She chuckles. “No, but I do come on a little strong, so I can see how you would get that impression.”

Still confused, I glance around the restaurant for Roark, wondering if he’s standing at a distance, watching me, as if this was some weird joke he’s playing on me, but when I don’t see any sign of him, I turn back to Siri who’s sitting there . . . staring at me.

“You’re very pretty.” She covers her mouth, almost embarrassed. “I don’t mean to be weird, but I’m a little outspoken.” You think? “But you are very pretty. Your eyes are gorgeous. Such long eyelashes. Are they real?”

Okay, is this some weird setup? Am I on a date and don’t even know it?

“I’m sorry.” I try to be as polite as possible. “But I’m a little confused. I’m supposed to be meeting Roark McCool for lunch—”

“Oh my gosh, of course he didn’t tell you. That’s so Roark.” That’s so Roark? As if they are really familiar with each other. Who is this Siri, really? “I’m his assistant. He put me on this project. He wants me to head up everything with you. I’m super excited. I was doing research all morning, and I have so many wonderful ideas. Starting with moving the entire camp to the city. We’d be able to have so many more celebrities at our disposal, and the media coverage would be explosive. We could really turn this into a promotional piece.”

I hold my hand up, my politeness slipping. “Excuse me, but the plans are set for the ranch in Texas. We don’t want media attention, because that’s not what this is about. Roark is supposed to find and liaise with the select athletes chosen. I’m sorry if this is rude, but I’m afraid your involvement on this project is not needed, Siri.”