Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(52)
Chapter Nineteen
Reece woke up the following morning feeling like he had the flu. He’d only had it once before, when he was twelve, but distinctly remembered the pounding head, the allover body aches, the blasts of brain-melting heat followed by bone-numbing cold.
Yeah, he was reliving it now.
For the first time in his adult life, he considered ignoring his alarm, rolling over, and going back to sleep for the rest of the day. Except he was scheduled to man the Wilde Security office for a few hours this morning, and he needed to see about scraping up a home security contract. He should also spend some time on Vaughn’s search for Lark Warren since Vaughn had held up his end of the deal and looked into the fire at The Bean Gallery.
He couldn’t sleep in. Too many people were counting on him.
Moving required more energy than he possessed, but he still managed to push himself upright. He smacked his lips—his mouth tasted like ash and felt as dry. Had he remembered to brush his teeth before falling into bed last night? Or, for that matter, shower?
Nope. One look down at himself confirmed he was still in his soot-smeared clothes. Apparently, he’d mentally checked out of the real world at some point last night.
Or, wait. It hadn’t been at some point. It had been after the newest blackmail threat hit his inbox. Right. He was f*cked good and hard last night, and not in the fun way.
Reece shoved to his feet and plodded to the bathroom to clean up. Twenty minutes later, feeling almost human again, he walked out to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, half expecting to see Shelby had beaten him to it like she had the last few mornings. He’d been surprised by her early bird tendencies and when he commented on it, she’d said owning The Bean Gallery had revised her night-owlishness.
But this morning, the apartment was quiet. Her door was still shut, and he didn’t even hear Poe squawking on the other side. Still asleep.
Probably for the better. He wasn’t ready to face her again after the embarrassment of his actions last night.
He’d thrown the scotch. The memory of it heated up the back of his neck. He’d had a f*cking temper tantrum. What was he, thirteen? Jesus.
As his coffee brewed, he studied the living room, searched for the stain on the wall, the broken glass, and found nothing. Guilt and shame hit him square in the gut in a one-two punch. Shelby had cleaned it up.
Yeah, he definitely wasn’t ready to face her yet. As soon as the coffee finished, he poured some into a travel mug, then left the rest on to warm until she woke up. He thought about leaving a note, decided against it, got to the door, and changed his mind. Back in the kitchen, he found a pen and paper…and stalled out.
What should he write?
Something short. Simple. Maybe…I’m sorry? No, that had a ring of finality to it, like the start of a Dear John letter. How about, Your past doesn’t matter because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you? Yeah, that wouldn’t send her running like her ass was on fire.
He finally settled on: Went to the WS office. Left the coffee on warm for you. Be home later.
Good enough.
Since it was a Saturday, the drive to the office was peaceful. He didn’t have to battle traffic, and he was grateful for it. He made it in twenty minutes instead of the usual forty and opened the office early even though he doubted he’d have a stampede of clients in that extra half hour. Business had been abysmally slow lately.
Maybe he should look into advertising. Of course, he’d need money for advertisements, and Wilde Security was already operating on a shoestring budget as it was.
He could sell the Escalade and drive his Scion FR-S full time. He actually preferred the scrappy, budget-friendly sports car, but the Escalade made for a better appearance, which was why he drove it more often. All for show. And if he started selling things off now, people would take notice, eyebrows would raise, and Irving James might get cold feet.
Always came back to that, didn’t it? Irving Fucking James.
Reece was starting to hate the man. Did he really want to align his company with the James name? No. But did he have a choice? Nope. James owned half the damn world, and it wasn’t like other investors were exactly beating down the doors at DMW Systems right now since the economy was still tanked and simulations were such a niche product.
Maybe it was time to talk to Cliff about the artificial intelligence he’d been tinkering with on company time. Reece hadn’t been happy about the side project at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Cliff might be on to something.
Man, he missed the good old days when he would sit around late into the night with Dylan and Cliff, guzzling Red Bull and talking technology. How had they all gotten so far away from their computer geek roots? Well, actually, Cliff hadn’t. The guy was still down in DMW’s basement, playing with his toys, tinkering with artificial intelligence.
Reece wanted that part of his life back. So much. But he wasn’t going to get it, so he needed to stop throwing himself a pity party and get to work.
On his way back to his office, he started another pot of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it. Then he booted up his computer and made a few follow-up calls, checking on the home security systems he’d installed for clients and nudging a few people who had previously voiced an interest in the system. He managed to secure two installation jobs, both neighbors of a previous client in Virginia Beach. He’d have to leave town for a long weekend to do the work, but it made him feel better about Wilde Security’s financial situation.