Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(31)

He turned and left at that, leaving Logan and me alone again, and I closed my eyes on a sigh.

Fuck.

It was my fault that video had been taken. Mac was right — I’d forgotten to tell them no photos or videos were allowed in that room, and I hadn’t seen anyone filming — but they had. And now, I’d gotten Logan in trouble.

Again.

Here he was trying to get promoted, and was doing a fine job of getting himself there before I showed up and ruined it all. I’d landed him at the top of Mac’s shit list.

And worse, I’d gotten him suspended from giving tours.

I turned, opening my eyes but keeping my gaze on my shoes. “Logan, I am so—”

But before I could get the words out, Logan zipped past me, shoving one arm in the sleeve of his coat before the other.

“Where are you going?”

“You heard Mac,” he said, not looking at me. “We’re excused for the day.”

“So, where are you going?”

“Buck’s.”

He was already out the door, but I chased after him, offering awkward smiles to the other tour guides who watched us like hawks on our way out. When we were in the hallway, I grabbed his sleeve, forcing him to stop.

“Logan, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to him, I’ll—”

“It’s fine, Mallory,” he bit out, his gaze hard. “Please, just leave it alone. Mac isn’t going to change his mind.”

I swallowed, nodding as I released his sleeve.

“I really am sorry,” I whispered.

Logan nodded, but didn’t say a word before he turned, making his way toward the door at the end of the hall that led to the employee parking lot. I watched him go, feet glued to the floor, knowing that a glass of whiskey and a game of pool wouldn’t fix what I’d done this time.

When the metal door slammed behind him, I let out a long sigh.

So much for starting over.





Logan


The hot coffee in my left hand did little to sooth the pounding of my head as I walked through the distillery halls the next morning. I sipped it anyway, hoping it could somehow erase the absurd amount of whiskey I’d consumed the night before. Going to Buck’s to drown out what had happened with Mac seemed logical when I’d decided to do it, but hindsight reminded me that a Thursday night was not a Friday night, and reporting for work the day after drinking wasn’t as easy as it had been when I was twenty-two.

The hot coffee in my right hand was for Mallory, but just like the one in my left, it did little to soothe my anxiety as I made my way toward the office. I knew she’d be there — even though I was early and she wasn’t expected to be in for another hour. I knew, because I saw it on her face when I’d stormed out the day before.

She was sorry, and she felt bad for what had happened.

Which in turn made me feel like a bag of shit, because it wasn’t her fault. What happened could have happened to any new tour guide, and in reality, it was more a reflection of me than it was of her. I’d been giving tours for years. I was the Lead Tour Guide. If anyone should have realized we didn’t tell that group that there were no photos allowed, it should have been me.

And I didn’t.

Because I was distracted.

I sighed, shaking my head at my own stupidity as I pushed through the door that led to the guide lobby. No one was in yet, not even Mac, so the lobby was empty.

But there was a blonde mess of hair in my office.

Her back was to me as she waited in the same chair she’d been in yesterday when Mac rushed into the office, her attention fixed on the swinging Newton’s Cradle on my desk. I wondered if she’d left at all, if she’d slept, if she’d let go of what happened or if she’d simmered on it all night like I did.

When I rounded my desk and saw the bags under her eyes, I got my answer.

Mallory looked up at me like a little girl who got caught eating a cookie before dinner. She sat on her hands, her brows furrowed, eyes watching mine as I took a seat in my chair across from her. I could tell she wanted to speak, she wanted to apologize again, but I spoke before she had the chance.

“Mallory, I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.”

“No,” she said, immediately shaking her head. “It was my fault. And you had every right to be pissed — to still be pissed. I am so sorry I fucked up… again.”

I smirked. “You didn’t fuck up. It could have happened to any new guide, and truthfully, it was on me to point that out if you missed it. I knew better — you didn’t.”

“But I did,” she argued, shaking her head. “I asked you to start over last week, and then the first chance I get to show you that I’m serious now, that I care, I go and make the worst mistake I possibly could have.”

I chuckled at that. “Mallory, it was a video of some stupid barrels being made — not a terrorist attack.”

She smiled as much as she could, but it fell quickly, her eyes on my desk.

“It’s okay — really. Mac made a bigger deal out of it than necessary. The video is down, and nothing proprietary was leaked. If it was really that top secret, they wouldn’t let us take tours through there at all. Right?”

She tilted her head a bit at that. “I guess that’s a good point.”