The Stranger Behind My Orgasm novel Chapter 32

Chapter 32: CATCHING UP

Finnegan

"Look what the cat dragged in," Henry beaned at me when I walked into the bar, blue eyes scanning my face curiously. He had a salt and pepper beard that he had grown to four inches and was really proud of it considering he kept taking pictures and spamming our group page.

"He’ll have whiskey neat," he told the bartender as I plopped on the bar stool next to him.

I sat down beside him and said nothing for a moment. The bar was quiet for a Tuesday evening, a low golden glow filling the room. There was some classical music being played in the background and the smell of whiskey was light in the air.

Henry and I had been coming here for fifteen years. He poured me a glass of whiskey and had barely slid it halfway before I snatched it up and downed the hot, brown, liquid.

"Respectfully man, you look like shit," Henry chuckled.

"My mother found fourteen things wrong with the launch program."

He dragged a hand down his face. "There’s no way the old witch found fourteen things wrong with the program."

I arched a brow at him and began reciting my mother’s words. "The seating arrangement, the catering, the photographer, the font on the invitations-"

"Alright, alright, geez, I believe you." He set his phone down and picked up his glass. "Isn’t there a way to send Gina off on vacation or something?"

I grunted, tapping my glass impatiently for it to be refilled. The one person who could talk my mother into a vacation was dead.

"If we can’t get your dear old mother on a vacation, we should be able to get you on a vacation. Come racing with us this weekend in Ibiza."

I shook my head, tossing back another glass of whiskey. It burned, warming my bones and pushed the looming headache in my head back. Good. Fucking good. "I have a meeting with Lewis on Saturday." To the bar tender, I held up the glass. "Just hand over the whole bottle will you?"

"You can see Lewis another time," My best friend scowled, snatching the bottle before the bartender could hand it over.

"Henry," I groaned. "I don’t need this right now. I already promised Lewis ages ago before he arrived back in the country,"

"You can just see him during the week. Ask that shy assistant of yours to patch him up in your schedule or something."

A laugh bubbled out of my lips for two reasons. One, I respected Lewis too much to simply patch him in my schedule. He had been a loyal friend for years and a very valuable business associate. Two, Abigail Kellerman and shyness were two parallel lines that would never meet.

Henry turned to look at me fully then. In the twenty years of our friendship, I could count on one hand the number of times I had made that sound, and he knew it as well as I did.

"There’s nothing shy about Miss Kellerman,"

"Miss Ke—What? Damn, you already fired sweet Cecille?"

A scowl formed on my face. "She burst into tears several times during meetings and kept on giving me wrong appointment timeframes. I don’t need a cry baby for an assistant."

Henry guffawed, clapping a hand over his face, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "She probably burst into tears because you were glaring at her, dumbass. So this Miss Kellerman, I’m guessing she’s not a cry baby?"

That was an understatement. She was...like a blazing fire. She handled whatever I threw her way with ease, no matter how difficult they may have seemed. She was hardworking,

And so fucking gorgeous.

I frowned at the thought, shaking it out of my head. I would never cross that line witg my emoloyees. The little whimper she made yesterday in the office rang through my head and my teeth grinded together. Henry cleaned his throat, his eyes filled with amusement.

"She’s competent," I grunted. "She’s yet to cry in the bathroom or hand in her notice after two months of working for me, so by my current standards that makes her exceptional."

"I’d love to see how long this one lasts,"

I said nothing and glanced around at the bar. It had filled up a bit more while we were talking. A flash of red hair caught my eyes and my glass stopped halfway to my mouth.

Red?

A woman at the far end of the bar, her back to me, dark red hair falling past her shoulders. My chest tightened and every single cell in my body shivered in excitement. Could it be her? After all these months searching for her, running into her in a bar would be divine.

He had been in my life long enough to understand what home meant and why my fourteen-year-old daughter would rather be elsewhere than stay home.

My phone buzzed on the bar and a smile tugged at my lips at the name that flashed across the screen. Perfect timing.

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