Sandy: Vested Interest #7

by Melanie Moreland

  They all had the grace to look ashamed.

  Bentley shook his head. “Sandy, we don’t think that. We’re just worried.”

  Aiden looked pained. “We want you to be happy, but this scares me.”

  Maddox grimaced. “You never said anything.”

  But it was Reid who deflated my anger and brought tears to my eyes. He leaned forward and gripped my hands.

  “Come live with Becca and me, Sandy. We won’t let you be lonely anymore.”

  His words and the utter sincerity with which he said them touched my heart. I smiled at them—the small cluster of men standing in front of me, looking as if they were six years old and in trouble for their antics on the playground instead of the successful, take-charge businessmen they were. Their love and concern shone out in their gazes, and the anger I had been feeling dissipated into the air.

  “Thank you, Reid. It’s a lovely gesture, but not needed. Boys, I’m not doing anything rashly or without thinking. I promise. If I see a profile I’m interested in, I’ll have you check them out. All right, Aiden?”

  He nodded, looking resigned.

  “And I’ll be careful.”

  “Have your cell phone with you,” Maddox insisted.

  “Always.”

  “I want to know your schedule,” Bentley stated.

  I withheld my laughter. “I think that’s my job,” I teased.

  “Please.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’m monitoring that site,” Reid muttered.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Aiden bent close. “I’m following you when you go. I’ll sit in the background, so I’m not noticed, but I’ll be close in case there’s trouble.”

  My lips twitched. Not noticed. At 6’7”, with muscles everywhere, a vivid tattoo on his arm, and his good looks, Aiden never blended.

  “We can all go,” Maddox offered.

  I burst into laughter, envisioning the look on some poor man’s face when I sat across from him to have a coffee and the boys sat at the table behind me, glaring in his direction, Aiden cracking his knuckles, Reid somehow hacking in to his phone and digging into his background, while Maddox demanded financial reports, and Bentley stared him down.

  How fun.

  As I laughed, I met the gaze of Van Morrison, who had come in with Bentley but stayed back from my desk. He listened to the conversation, a smile playing on his lips. As he met my gaze, he gave me a thumbs-up and mouthed the words, “You go, Sandy,” before disappearing down the hall.

  At least he didn’t give me a hassle, and I appreciated his silent support.

  I brought my attention back to my gang of protectors.

  “Good ideas. I’ll let you know. Now, back to work, boys.”

  Grumbling, they disappeared into Bentley’s office, shutting the door behind them. I knew I hadn’t heard the last of this, but I wasn’t surprised by their reaction.

  I looked down at my phone, weary of the constant beeps. I scanned through the profiles, knowing deep in my heart this wasn’t the right step for me.

  But I wasn’t telling them that.

  Not yet.

  Jordan

  I glanced at my desk with a deep exhale. The paperwork was astronomical these days. The busier BAM became, the busier I was. Even though Bentley had hired an extra body to help me, my desk never seemed to clear. I oversaw all paperwork on every project BAM undertook. Every permit, plan, license, contract that was required for a project, I made sure it was in place. It was a never-ending task, given the vast number of endeavors the company had on the go at any one time.

  I pulled off my glasses and rubbed my tired eyes. I drained my coffee and sat back for a moment, contemplating the piles on my desk. I had come in on the weekend to catch up, but there was still a large amount of work to get done.

  Not that I had anything else to keep me busy. My daughter, Gina, had recently moved, and with the absence of her and my grandkids—and my son, Warren, already on the other side of the country—life was emptier now than ever. For the first time since my wife, Anna, had passed, I was lonely. When she was alive and our kids here, we had been busy with work, each other, plus the grandkids and all their activities. When she died, my kids tried hard to keep me busy. Now that they were gone, I missed them all. My single son’s job had ended, and he had to go to where the work was, so he moved to Alberta last year. Three months ago, my daughter’s husband, Eric, had been offered a fabulous promotion, but it meant relocation. And although Gina had expressed her fears over leaving me, I had refused to be the reason they didn’t take the opportunity. I promised lots of visits, and although I spoke with her or the kids almost daily, it wasn’t the same. Life was hollower.

  I had lots of free time on my hands, so I spent it in the office. There was usually someone else around, so I didn’t feel as lonely as when I was rambling around my house.

  On occasion, the extra time in the office meant I got to see more of Sandy Preston as well.

  The right-hand to all the partners, Sandy was an amazing woman. Close in age, we had a lot in common. She was intelligent, driven, and kind—easy to like, and I had a deep, abiding respect for her. She had been a good friend to me when Anna had passed, and when Sandy lost Max, I returned the favor—understanding the tremendous pain she felt. We had coffee together, even the occasional lunch, and we could discuss the loss of our partners freely, both of us having experienced the grieving process.

  But as time went by, I began to look at her differently. I no longer saw her as the efficient, friendly coworker and/or friend I’d considered her to be all these years. The fellow grief-stricken companion. I found myself no longer wanting to talk only about Anna or to feel sad. I wanted to talk to Sandy about other things. To expand the friendship beyond loss and into living.

  But I wasn’t sure she was ready for that, and if sensing that my feelings were changing, she had quietly stopped our coffee dates without even discussing it. She was still friendly and cordial in the office. Always smiling and happy to chat if I dropped by her desk or she was bringing me more paperwork, but there was a line there. Because of my respect for her, it was a line I didn’t cross.

  She was too good a friend to lose. I hoped if I was patient enough, one day she would be ready to move on. And when she was, I would be ready.

  Yet, seeing her everyday caused an odd ache in my chest that never fully went away.

  I shook my head at my strange thoughts and pushed my glasses back up on my face. I picked up my pen, ready to attack the next set of paperwork when Van Morrison, our resident genius of the hammer, strolled in. He unloaded a huge pile of tools in the corner, then made me frown as he shut the door to the hall and sat at his desk.

  Van never shut the door unless there was a problem.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  He scrubbed his face and regarded me seriously. “I know we don’t get overly personal here, Jordan, but Liv told me something last night, and I’ve been thinking it over all day.”

  “Damn it,” I cursed. “Is there a problem? Is she thinking of leaving?”

  He laughed. “No. She’s good. We’re good,” he emphasized.

  He and Liv were in a relationship that worked well for them. They were a great couple and were getting married soon. Van adored her daughter, and together, they fit. I relaxed. “Okay. So, what is this news?”

  He inhaled. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest.”

  I frowned. “Always.”

  “Sandy,” he said flatly. “You like her.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” I asked, unsure where this was leading.

  “Yes. But you like her as more than a coworker.”

  I blew out a long breath. “That obvious, am I?”

  He shook his head. “No. But you forget how well I know you.” He lifted an eyebrow in a silent question, still waiting for my answer.

  “Yes, I like her. Very much so.”

  “I thought so.”

  “So your news
has to do with Sandy?” A flash of panic hit me. “Oh god. Is she seeing someone?”

  Had I waited too long?

  “Not yet,” he said slowly.

  “Not yet? What does that mean?” I asked, confused.

  Van leaned forward. “It means, if you truly have feelings for her, now is the time for you to speak up.”

  Van’s words replayed in my head. Over and again.

  Sandy had signed up on a dating site.

  Sandy.

  Dating site.

  Somehow the words did not compute.

  Sandy was too elegant. Too amazing to put herself out there that way. My son used dating apps a lot. Some of his stories made me shudder. The thought of Sandy being subjected to strange men didn’t sit well with me.

  The thought of her liking someone else besides me in that fashion didn’t sit well either.

  I sat at my desk long after Van had left. He didn’t have a lot to tell me except the name of the dating site and the amusing reaction the partners had when they discovered that their Sandy was putting herself out there.

  “It was as if she was a child.” He chuckled. “They surrounded her, lecturing and pointing out every bad thing they could think of when it came to dating sites. All of them—even Bentley—were freaked out.”

  “I don’t imagine that went over well with Sandy.”

  Van shook his head, his eyes crinkling in laughter. “She told them all off in perfect Sandy fashion. One second they were all talking, the next they were all shuffling their feet and looking embarrassed. She put them in their place fast.” He paused. “But you could feel her love for them. She knew they were doing this out of concern. But she pointed out it was her life and she had to choose how to live it. She also reminded them they all had spouses or girlfriends to go home to each night.” He fell silent. “Even I heard the pain in her voice then. They backed off but made her promise to be very careful.”

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I could see Sandy, drawing herself up, straightening her shoulders as she faced off with “her boys.” She loved them all fiercely, and they returned that love. They were very good to her, and she was much more than an assistant to them. But she never hesitated to call them out when she felt they were wrong, and I knew she wouldn’t be happy being told what to do.

  But I agreed with them.

  I turned to the computer and downloaded the app Van told me she had joined. I checked the rules, figured out how it worked, and created an account. A picture was optional—you could have a description only if you preferred, then choose to share a picture with any matches if you decided you wanted to connect. I chose that option, adding a fast bio and a password.

  Then I scanned the pages, looking over the profiles.

  I stopped scrolling when I came to Sandy’s picture. I glanced at the stats, my eyebrows shooting up in shock when I saw how many stars she had beside her profile. There was a tremendous amount of interest in her.

  Not that I could blame them. The picture of her was taken at a BAM function. Her hair was down, the bright white gleaming under the lights. Her lovely hazel eyes twinkled in the photo, her full mouth smiling as she looked toward something past the lens that had caught her attention. She was a striking woman. Her confidence and friendly disposition only added to her attractiveness. She had a lot to offer the right man—but the simple fact was, the right man wasn’t on this site.

  Even though there were a lot of men wanting to get to know her better, I smiled in grim satisfaction that Sandy had yet to return any interest stars.

  I sat in front of my laptop, thinking. I had two choices. Reach out via this dating app and see what happened, or simply present myself to her exactly the way her profile requested—as a fellow human feeling lonely and wanting some companionship. Maybe if she spent some time with me, things could develop between us. We were already friends with a lot in common—surely the next step wouldn’t be that difficult to work toward?

  If she was ready. I had the feeling that would be the largest hurdle to overcome. I had reached a point in my life where I felt I would like to share my time with someone again. The question was—had Sandy?

  I shut down the laptop, not bothering with anything else to do with the app.

  I knew what I had to do.

  A couple of days later, I gathered some files and headed upstairs to meet with Bentley. I straightened my tie, brushed the sleeves of my suit jacket, and checked the mirror to make sure my hair was in place.

  Van chuckled from his desk, not even looking up. “You look great. Go get her, tiger.”

  I didn’t bother denying my task. “I’m asking her to lunch after my meeting.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m hoping she’ll say yes.”

  “I imagine you are.”

  “It’s just lunch. We’ve had lunch together many times.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  Van’s amusement was obvious. “If you’re trying to convince me, I’m good. I think it’s Sandy you need to save the arguments for.”

  I sighed. “I’m so rusty at this.”

  He sat back, looking at me. “Be her friend, Jordan. You two have so much in common, and you’ve always gotten on well. Just be Jordan and see what happens. I think you’ll be surprised.”

  “Okay.”

  “She told Liv she planned on deleting the app. She said it wasn’t for her. So, this is a good time.”

  The news buoyed my spirit. “Good. Thanks.”

  I tucked the files under my arm and headed upstairs.

  Sandy was at her desk, busy with one of the many tasks she took care of. But she looked up as I stepped off the elevator, her smile warm. I noticed she looked a little tired, although she was still lovely. Her hair was swept up in its usual chignon, and her outfit was impeccable, the deep blue of the suit setting off her white hair and coloring to perfection. She looked younger than her fifty-seven years, her face unlined, and her figure tight and pleasing to my eyes. She was young at heart, her smiles easy and her attitude positive. She was also incredibly organized and ran the office brilliantly. The boys would be lost without her. I enjoyed watching her run circles around them.

  I grinned as I stopped in front of her desk.

  “Morning, Sandy.”

  “Jordan,” she replied with a brief nod. “Bentley’s still tied up on a call. He’ll be free in a few moments.”

  “Great. I’ll grab a coffee.”

  She stood. “I was getting myself one.”

  “Then we can get them together.” I set down my files and followed her to the small kitchen. I admired the way her hips swayed as she walked in front of me, her scent drifting on the air as she moved. It was citrusy and light. Feminine. I liked it.

  She poured two cups of coffee, handing me mine. I sipped the hot liquid with appreciation.

  “You make a great cup of coffee, Sandy.”

  She added some cream to her cup, stirring it. “Thanks.”

  I leaned my hip on the counter, trying to appear casual. “How’s it going? We haven’t caught up in a while.”

  She mimicked my stance, blowing on the hot brew before taking a sip. I tried not to notice how full her lips looked as she puckered them, but I failed. I wondered, not for the first time, how her mouth would feel underneath mine. How she would feel in my arms.

  I startled when I realized she had replied, and I had missed it.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “I just thought of something I needed to remember to ask Bentley.”

  “No problem. I said I was fine, and yes, it’s been a while.”

  I said the words before I could chicken out. “How about we rectify that?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Lunch. I forgot to bring my lunch today, so I was going to get something and sit in the park since it’s such a nice day. Join me, and we can catch up over a sandwich.”

  She hesitated and I smiled.

  “I know you’re busy—we both are
. But it’s a lovely day outside, and we can take a break and share a sandwich. Catch up. I miss our coffee breaks.” I went in for the kill, remembering her words on her profile.

  Seeking companionship—a friend to enjoy life’s moments with.

  “We need to grab nice days like today and spend time with good friends.”

  Her brow furrowed then cleared. “I’d like that.”

  Internally, I high-fived myself. Outwardly, I smiled and nodded. “Great. I’ll meet you downstairs about twelve?”

  “Yes.”

  I turned and headed back to her desk, not wanting her to see the large grin I was sporting. I was looking forward to lunch—and whatever came after it.

  Jordan

  Bentley finished signing the stack of forms I had given him. “You’ve been busy, Jordan.”

  I chuckled. “Not as if I had much choice. You’re acquiring projects faster than I can keep up.”

  He closed the file, handing it back to me. “Is Alan not helping you enough?”

  “No, he’s great. He keeps up with the filing, copying, all the small things I don’t have to worry about so I can concentrate on getting all the paperwork in place and assigning crews. Still—” I grinned “—you’re a busy man, which makes my job busy. And secure.”

  Bentley relaxed back in his chair, regarding me seriously. “You never have to worry about your job, Jordan. Or your retirement.”

  The partners had given me an unexpected gift on my fifty-fifth birthday. A generous retirement package I could start drawing on at sixty years of age. I hadn’t reached that milestone yet and had no interest in retiring in the near future, and the partners were quite vocal in their desire for me to stay as long as I wanted with the firm. It was typical of BAM and the men who ran the company. They looked after their own. I had never known a company as well run and generous as BAM. Bentley, Aiden, and Maddox were, in my opinion, the model all companies should strive to be. Turnover here was rare, given how well they treated their staff—right down to the IT department and the people doing the manual labor for them. No one was too small to be taken care of. I was proud to be associated with them, and as I worked with many outside companies, I knew how highly regarded they were within the business industry.