Oceans Apart Book 1 (Oceans Apart #1)(3)
I glanced over to the bar and saw Kari talking to a redheaded man who was leaning way too close to her, and I had to laugh when she sent him away looking dejected.
The music became quieter and Tristan leaned closer to me. “Your friend is quite formidable, isn’t she?”
I actually snorted as I laughed. “That’s one way to put it, yeah. She’s been called a lot worse than that before. I think her last boyfriend called her ‘bitch’ but she’s not really, she just doesn’t take any crap from people, and a lot of guys aren’t huge fans of it.”
Tristan grinned. “Of course we’re not. We like to think we’re in charge.”
“We? Does that mean you’re like the rest of them?” I quipped, with a sassy smile.
“Oh, Ginny, I’m not like anyone you’ve ever met.”
“How would you know? I just barely met you.” I asked, cracking my best lopsided smile. “I’ve met all kinds of people. Some of them were even English, too. In fact, one of the guys at work is from Australia and he has an accent, too. So you can’t claim that makes you special…although you are rather charming.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. And if truth be told, I don’t have an accent, you do.” He laughed out loud, wiggling his eyebrows, and in an American accent that sounded more country than California, he said, “Howdy, ma’am.”
I laughed, “Does everyone in England think we come from Texas or Oklahoma? I’m a California girl and I don’t think I’ve ever said ‘howdy’ in my whole life.” I bit my lip to stifle the laugh. He was nice, funny, interesting, and I wondered what it would be like to get to know him a little better. I looked up into his cool blue eyes and said, “You’ve been watching too many movies.”
“Yeah, maybe I have.”
“So…how long are you in town for?”
“Only for the weekend. My flight back to London is on Sunday. The jet lag is going to be a bloody nightmare, and I’m straight back to work on Monday.”
“Oh. Uh…would you want to…maybe do something tomorrow? Kari and I usually go down to the beach, but she’s got to go visit her parents this weekend. So, I mean, if you wanted to see some stuff before you left…?” I left it open-ended and told myself I wouldn’t be disappointed if he said no. It was just a casual thing, after all, and he was probably busy with whatever business had brought him here in the first place.
“That sounds brilliant,” Tristan said, with a bright smile. “I haven’t really had a chance to do much sightseeing since I’ve been here. I’m here with my father and he’s had me in a suit in a bloody board room somewhere every moment of every day since we arrived.”
“Will daddy let you come out to play, then?” I teased.
He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Let me? I’m a grown man, and I’d very much like to see him try to stop me,” he said. “My hotel isn’t far from here. Would it be terribly inconvenient to ask you to come pick me up?”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head quickly. “Not at all. Just tell me where, and I’ll be there.”
“Brilliant. I think you might have just saved this trip for me. I’ll have to come up with some way to repay you.” And the gleam in his eye was very promising.
Chapter 2 — Tristan
In all honesty, I didn’t really want to call my father that morning but I knew he’d only phone me at some point and spoil my day with Ginny if I didn’t, so I had to head him off at the pass nice and early. I wanted just one day to wind down from the busy week we’d had with clients and now that I’d found a companion, all the better, so I dialed his number and braced myself for his response.
Dear old Dad didn’t disappoint. My expectations of how the conversation would go were right on the mark. He started reeling off reasons why it was idiotic to go off on a random beach trip with some girl I’d only just met, when there was paperwork to be done and a plane to catch early the next morning. I just let him rant on for a bit, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder and interjecting with the occasional “Yes, Dad” and “No, Dad” while I looked through my wardrobe for some comfortable clothes to wear.
“Are you listening to me, son?” he demanded.
“Yes Dad, I’m listening.” I muttered under my breath. My father, Martin Armstrong, was an extremely wealthy and powerful man, and he expected to be treated all the time with the respect that kind of money commanded. Even when dealing with his own son! Christ, he’s talking to me like I’m six, not twenty-six!
I had total respect for the old man. He had built a billion dollar company from the ground up with just my mother and a few of their closest associates. Together they’d turned Armstrong Construction into one of the leading companies in Europe, and we were in LA right now talking to clients as we were starting to do more projects overseas.
I was very proud of the go-getter attitude of my dad, and knew just how hard he’d worked over the years to give me the good life I was enjoying now, but it didn’t mean I was going to let him tell me what I could or couldn’t do. I was a grown man now, as I so often had to remind my parents, and that meant I was going to live my own life.