Her neck and shoulders tightened. “When did you get that news?”
Glancing up from his task, he shrugged. “Yesterday afternoon, around four-thirty or five. Why?”
Acid burned the back of her throat. Rather than answer, she left the room and headed to one of the bars.
Andre, one of the bartenders was there unpacking cartons of liquor. He glanced at Niki and stopped what he was doing. “Are you all right? Your face is all red.”
“I’m sure it is.” Climbing onto a barstool, she tried to channel the meditation guru whom she regularly listened to on the Internet, even though her mind was usually buzzing too much for her to actually meditate, but even that didn’t help. “Can I have a Coke?”
Andre filled a glass with soda and ice, and topped the drink with a lime wedge before setting it in front of her. “Need anything else? A hug maybe?”
“More like a hit man.” She took a sip, thought for a few minutes about her boss’s actions, then marched back to Tristan’s office. She refused to be his doormat.
He raised an extra-smarmy eyebrow when she entered the room. “Yes?”
“I don’t appreciate that you called me away from my vacation to come back here because you had to go to L.A. on some emergency. Then you neglected to tell me that your trip was canceled. I could have stayed in New York.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “Was it some test, Tristan? Were you merely testing my loyalty or willingness to do what you ask?”
He steepled his fingers on his desk. “Do you really think that of me? Why on earth would I make up such a thing? Need I remind you who paid for the change in your airline ticket?”
The fifty-dollar fee the discount airline charged was nothing to Tristan. She wasn’t buying his story. “Why didn’t you call me to tell me you didn’t have to leave town?”
He let out a pained sigh. “I wasn’t thinking. I feel awful for the oversight. Can you ever forgive me?”
At the moment, she didn’t think so. “I’ll assume that you can handle your friend’s event since you’re here.”
Tristan shook his head. “Not happening.”
Her face and neck were on fire. “Excuse me?”
“No, it is happening, but not tonight. Emmett switched to tomorrow evening.” He swiveled his seat toward his computer and hit a few keys.
Even though she’d never had a blood pressure issue, she could feel her pulse pounding at her temples. “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
He met her stare, held it for a long moment. “I suppose I owe you that much, probably more. But we have a hundred people coming tomorrow night for a corporate party. Do you think it wise to leave early today?”
“I sure do. Technically, I’m still on vacation.” If she didn’t, she might say something she’d regret. She strode from the office with every intention of going home. Too bad Grant wasn’t there to talk to. In his absence, she’d have to settle for an ice cream sundae. Or a stiff drink. Maybe both.
“Niki!” Tristan called sharply.
Although she wanted to keep going, she stopped, took a moment to school the irritation from her expression then turned to face him. “Yes?”
“I really am sorry, love.” His expression was contrite. “But remember about the London job. Those who advance in this company tend to go the extra mile. We’re only a couple of weeks away from July Fourth. That’s your opportunity to really shine.”
“Yes, Tristan,” she ground out.
“Please make sure the VIP lounge is in tip-top shape before you leave today. If anything needs touching up, I want to know tonight, not an hour before guests begin arriving tomorrow.”
She tamped down her irritation and nodded. “May I ask a question?”
“Yes?”
Her heart pounded, but it was as if some evil force had taken over her mouth, and she couldn’t hold her tongue. “I had no idea you were looking to expand to the Los Angeles market. Did that property just suddenly come available and give you the idea to open a club there, or was that something you’ve been thinking about for a while?”
His forehead crinkled as he eyed her. Without answering her question, he retreated to the office.
Had she gone too far? Messed up her chances of going to London? As long as she killed the July Fourth event and showed Tristan that her work was top notch in the meantime, she felt confident that he’d still give her the job.
After spending the next two hours meticulously going over the VIP lounge and checking that the florist and caterer were on track for the following day, Niki left the club.
Since her flight had arrived so late the night before, she hadn’t bothered to check the mail when she’d gotten home. Before going inside, she stopped at the mailbox and separated Grant’s from hers. As she was about to open the door, she noticed an envelope stuffed halfway under the door. She caught the edge of it, pulled it out, and inspected it. Someone had handwritten in scroll-y, clearly feminine penmanship the name Grant.
She turned it over and gasped when she saw the engraved return address on the flap—Carrie Caulder. Had to be that Carrie. And the flap was barely sealed, only sticking at the bottom edge of the V. None of my business.
She sat on the porch step and stared at the letter.
Don’t do it.
Why would Grant’s ex be contacting him? What if her marriage had fallen apart and she wanted to rekindle things with him?
No, she’d call him, or come see him in person. Had to be something else. But what?
Niki studied the flowery handwriting, the extra loops on the G. So pretentious. Almost flirty.
She turned over the envelope again, eased her finger under the flap. Technically it wasn’t mail; it hadn’t been in the mailbox. But she knew it was for Grant, so it was still wrong.
Her phone buzzed. The noise caused her to startle and pull her hand back, ripping the flap apart as she did. Oh God. She tried to reseal it, but it was impossible. It looked like a two-year-old had gotten hold of it. Now what was she going to do? Grant would think she’d purposely torn the envelope.
Heart pounding, she held the envelope up to the porch light and was able to make out a few bolded words. “Residential Contract for Sale and Purchase,” she read aloud. They’d sold the house. Grant would be leaving soon.
A fat tear rolled down her cheek. She immediately wiped it away. After all, she had no right to that. She and Grant had been clear from the get-go where they stood with each other. Despite their amazing night of intimacy, he’d pulled back after, so he obviously hadn’t felt the same things she had. The two of them weren’t meant to be. How many times did the universe have to send her that message for it to get through her skull?
So why did she feel as if her heart was being crushed in an emotional vise?
The sound of kids laughing pulled her attention toward the sidewalk. A family walked past, the parents waving at her.
She passed on a smile, gathered the mail up, and unlocked the door. Geez, she still had tears rolling down her face.
Those people must think I’m an idiot.
She fished in her purse for a tissue and dropped all the mail on the threshold. That’s when the tears began in earnest. What was wrong with her?
Her phone buzzed again. She checked the display. Two texts from Tristan. Rolling her eyes, she hit the message button.
Call me right away.
Hmm. That didn’t sound good. Despite still being angry with him, she wasn’t in a position to lose her job. Before she went inside, she phoned him.
Tristan answered on the first ring. “Ah, Niki. Thank God.”
His tone worried her. “Is everything okay?”
“Heavens, no. It’s the party tomorrow. Emmett misrepresented what the whole thing was all about.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “This is a media event for his company, but he hasn’t invited near enough people. He wants this place filled to the brim. There will be camera crews galore, and they want it to look like a packed h
ouse. I need you to invite everyone you know. Please don’t let me down, Niki. And get here early tomorrow afternoon so we can work on this.”
She gritted her teeth. “Fine.” Great. Tristan’s screw-up meant extra work for her.
She pushed open the door and remembered that she’d somehow have to explain the ripped-open envelope to Grant, who’d be home the next day.
Between worrying about Grant and thinking about the event at work the next day, her head was spinning. When she returned to the house, she was about to shut the door when a streak of orange went racing past her and outside.
Sarge! “No. Sarge, come back here!” Dropping her purse on the floor, she took off after him. How could such an old cat move so fast?
He disappeared into the bushes. She made that cat-calling sound she’d heard Grant use to get Sarge to come to him, but the feline ignored her. Then she remembered that Grant kept cat treats in the kitchen.
Dare she leave him for the time it would take to go fetch the packet? She crouched in front of the hedges searching for a glimpse of orange fur. The light was fading, and he was only going to get more difficult to spot.
Why weren’t there any neighbors around? Grant was forever helping out the old woman across the street and the elderly couple on the corner. Where was karma when she needed it?
For that matter, where was Sarge? She still didn’t see him. Yanking her shoes off, she called him again. “Sarge, here, boy. Come here.”
Nothing. Holding aside the hedges, she pushed through the bushes but found nothing. Sharp twigs cut into her skin, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered at the moment was getting to Sarge. Grant was going to kill her. When he found out about her opening his mail, too, lord, he’d never speak to her again. And could she blame him?
She ran inside the house, grabbed the cat treats and her cell, then returned to the hedges where she’d last seen Sarge. Shaking the pouch as she’d watched Grant do many times before, she walked the perimeter of the house, calling the feline’s name. When she got no response, the gravity of the situation hit her.
I’ve lost the pet Grant loves. He’s going to hate me forever.
But she couldn’t give up. She was going to find Sarge and bring him home, even if it took her all night. She scratched at the cuts on her arms and swatted away mosquitoes and gnats.
After an hour, it was pitch black out and there was still no sign of the cat. Time to call in the big guns. She phoned Amy and then Lucy, who both arrived within thirty minutes, bearing flashlights, bug repellant, and more cat treats.
Lucy handed Niki socks and sneakers to change into. “Dex is in the middle of helping a client with an audit or else he’d be here, too.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you two coming,” Niki told her as she slipped on the shoes.
Amy sprayed her ankles with mosquito repellant. “If my Roxy was out there, I know you’d help me find her.”
“I would,” Niki assured her. She prayed that having a bona fide cat lover on her team would make the difference.
But by two in the morning—after scouring the entire subdivision and the surrounding area—they still hadn’t found Sarge. The women returned to Grant’s house and sat on the front steps.
Niki wiped a sweat-soaked lock of hair off her forehead. “What if something’s happened to Sarge?” She shuddered.
Amy put her arm around Niki’s shoulder. “Don’t think that way. He’ll probably come back home on his own. That’s what Roxy did the one time she got out.”
“Really?” Niki allowed herself a glimmer of hope. “How long was she missing?”
Amy glanced at Lucy then frowned. “Two or three hours.”
Niki buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Grant loves that cat so much. I’ve grown to like the little bugger myself even though we got off to a rocky start.” She hadn’t realized just how much she loved Sarge until that night, but if he didn’t return home, she’d be devastated.
Lucy squeezed her hand. “I’m sure he’ll be back before Grant comes home tomorrow. Everything’s going to be fine.” Her sister gave her a tight hug.
Niki nodded, but she doubted things would be all right. Just before her sister and Amy left, Niki took Amy’s advice and checked the county’s animal services website. “No cats matching Sarge’s description have been turned in or picked up,” she told Amy.
“There’s a link on there where you can file a report, so if Sarge shows up, they’ll call you.”
Niki tried to be hopeful as she filled out the form. When she was finished, she told her friend about accidentally tearing Grant’s letter and peeking at what it said.
“Yikes.” Amy scratched her head. “What are you going to do?”
Niki let out a sigh. “Apologize for being an irresponsible snoop.”
Glancing at her cell phone, she remembered her conversation with Tristan. How was she supposed to think about work when she’d screwed up so royally with Grant? But she had no choice. Losing her job would be catastrophic.
Since she was already on her laptop, she quickly sent off an email to her friends and family, asking them to come to Heatwave for Tristan’s client’s event that night. Perhaps the lure of free food might entice a few to show up. Or maybe they’d do it just to help her out.
Not that she deserved anyone’s affection at the moment. She felt like the lowest of the low. Knowing that Grant’s house would be sold soon and he’d be gone made her even more depressed.
She lay back on the sofa, threw her arm over her face, and wallowed in her misery. “Damn good thing I’ll probably be moving soon. In fact, maybe I should get out now before Grant finds out what I’ve done.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Amy twisted her blond hair into a bun and used the ponytail holder she kept perpetually around her wrist to cinch it up. “Okay, enough of this self-pity. You’re stronger than this, Niki. Go wash your face. You’ve got mascara running down your cheeks. It’s time to get your shit together and face the music.”
Niki gulped. “You mean…”
Amy nodded. “Call Grant.”
“But it’s four in the morning.”
Amy widened her eyes. “Oh. Well, I guess you can wait a little while. Geez. I have a job interview at nine-thirty this morning.”
A lump formed in Niki’s throat. “I’m so sorry. You’d better go home and get some sleep.”
Amy waved away her concern. “How many all-nighters did we pull in college? I’ll be fine.” She drew Niki into a hug, then after a few seconds, held her at arms’ length. “So will you. You don’t have to go into the Witness Protection Program or go on the lam or anything. Sarge is going to turn up and be fine.”
But Niki wasn’t so confident. She could only hope that the past few hours weren’t the beginning of a downward spiral that had the potential to knock her life plan completely out of whack. She wiped away a few tears that she realized were for Sarge. She prayed the little guy was okay, wherever he was.
Chapter Ten
Niki peeled open her eyelids, sure she was dreaming. Why else would Grant be there, staring down at her? Unless the cat fiasco and the envelope debacle had been a nightmare.
She raised her head off the kitchen table and rubbed her sore neck. “Pinch me.”
When he did on her side, she yelped. “Hey!”
“You told me to do it.” He moved her laptop from the table to the counter. “Late night?”
Oh God, I fell asleep!
“You have no idea,” she muttered under her breath. “When did you get home?”
Have you noticed yet that Sarge is missing?
“A few minutes ago.” He glanced around the room. “How’d the work thing go?”
Her temples started aching at the mention of Heatwave. “It didn’t. Long story.”
His nostrils flared. “So you cut your trip short for nothing?”
Getting Grant upset over that definitely wasn’t how she wanted to begin the conversation they needed to hav
e. “Not nothing. Just not the original thing Tristan called about.”
Muscles around his jaw quivered, but he kept quiet.
Suddenly, her mouth was dry as the Sahara. She pulled herself up and strode toward the kitchen. “How about some coffee?”
“No thanks.” Grant followed her.
Her phone buzzed as she started the coffee pot.
“How’s Sarge? He usually comes to greet me when I get home.” Grant whistled for the cat. “Here boy.” When Sarge didn’t show up, Grant’s lips flattened. “Have you seen him today?”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Um, about that. I need to tell you something.” She wrung her hands.
Grant leaned on a barstool. “Is he okay?” His Adam’s apple slid up and down his neck as he swallowed, clearly bracing himself for her news. He looked so sad and vulnerable at the thought of what she was about to say, she wanted to cry. “Just tell me, Niki.”
She gulped. “As far as I know, yes.”
He blinked. “What does that mean?”
Her breath locked in her throat. “Th-that he ran out the door last night when I came home. I had no idea he could be that fast. He’s so fat.” The rest of the story poured out like a bottle of too-thin salad dressing. “I’m so sorry. I searched all night. Lucy and Amy did, too. Every few hours, I’ve checked the county’s animal services department, and I put in a report there.”
He grasped the counter as if he needed it for support, but an instant later, he squared his shoulders. “So he’s been gone all night.”
Niki’s heart split into pieces. It was all her fault. “I’m going out to look again this morning. It was futile in the dark. But I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was checking all the local lost pet message boards online, and I must have nodded off. I’m sorry. We’ve got to have faith that we’ll find him.”
Grant checked his watch. “Morning’s almost gone.”
“It is?” She squinted to see the time on the microwave then gasped when she read 11:20. “I have to call Tristan and tell him I’ll be late. Or why I’m already late.”
Grant typed on his phone. “Go ahead into work. I’m asking my buddies from the station to come and help me search for Sarge.”
The Best Man's Proposal (The Hamilton Sisters) Page 15
