Escaping Reality

somewhere. There isn’t an
    apartment in the building under six grand. We’re in prime real estate and in
    the center of a high-profile restaurant and shopping area.”
    “Oh, well, I think my boss owns the building.”
    “Who’s your boss?”
    I hesitate, not sure why. “Dermit Williams.”
    “Never heard of him. I thought a big holding company owned the
    building.”
    “Hello!” Meg appears by the table, looking every bit the blonde
    bombshell I can never be in a snug black dress and I’m rattled to realize I
    hadn’t even noticed her approach. She hugs me and then glances at Jared.
    “Good grief, woman, you hang out with beautiful people. I’m sitting with
    him.” She scoots Jared over, and next to me. I’m ready to crawl under the
    table.
    “Please,” Jared says approvingly. “Come on in.” He glances down at
    me. “Hope you don’t mind getting up close and personal.”
    Somehow I am captured in his warm brown stare, and I feel the
    connection in the pit of my stomach, more in the form of guilt than
    attraction. Not that I am beyond seeing how hot this man is. He is, and if I
    were any other woman, I suspect I’d be glad to be here, but I’m not. I’m a
    woman who is crazy about another man, and the fact that Jared makes me
    think of Liam speaks of just how intensely drawn to Liam I am. My cell
    phone beeps with a text and Meg and Jared chat with the waitress while I
    pull out my phone.
    Where are you?
    Earl’s. I met Meg for a drink.
    I wait for a reply but don’t get one. Odd. I shut my computer and
    stick it back in my briefcase, preparing for a fast departure if I get any more
    uncomfortable.
    “I will be soooo happy when Luke gets back,” Meg announces, and I
    grab the opening she gives me.
    “Did you ask him for that number I needed from him?”
    The waitress delivers her wine and she thanks her before saying,
    “Yes. And sorry. He won’t give it out.” She turns to Jared. “I haven’t been
    introduced.”
    “Jared,” he says. “And you are?”
    “Meg.” She offers her hand and he turns to her and accepts it. She
    bats her lashes in a flirtatious way I’ve spent too much time staying off the
    radar to ever even attempt. I can’t see Jared’s expression the way he’s
    positioned, but I can’t imagine there is a man on the planet who wouldn’t
    pant over Meg’s ample beauty. They both settle into their seats again and
    Meg asks,
    “And what do you do for a living, Jared? Where are you from? Are
    you single?”
    I just about choke on a swallow of wine. Jared laughs. “Tech guy.
    Texas. And yes”—he glances at me—“I’m single.”
    I officially have cotton in my throat. I grab my wine and take a big
    swig. Jared laughs, clearly amused at my reaction, proof my decision to stay
    away from men while living off the radar had been a good idea. They send
    my composure into the dumpster. Or, at least, men like Jared and Liam,
    who are exceptionally…male.
    “And how do you know Amy?” Meg queries Jared.
    “I’m renting the apartment across from her.”
    I tilt my head and frown, thinking of my extreme rent difference to
    what Jared has stated.
    “He’s staying in a friend’s apartment. That’s probably why you don’t
    know him.”
    “Why would she know me?” Jared asks.
    “She works in the management office,” I supply.
    “New, though.” She seems almost uneasy, but then being new is
    never fun and she adds,
    “I’m just learning the ropes and learning who is where and what is
    what.” She sips her wine.
    “This isn’t what I ordered. I’m going to the bar. Be right back.”
    Great. Alone with Jared again. And why hasn’t Liam texted me back?
    “Where are you from, Amy?” Jared asks.
    On a conflicting note, I’ve been craving a chance to talk to him about
    my hometown and avoided it at the same time. Apparently, I’m going to
    talk to him about Texas. “New York. You’re from Texas, you said?”
    “Yes. Ever been there?”
    “No. Too many pickup trucks and football fans.” Lie. That is a part of
    Texas that makes it Texas, and I miss it.
    “And beer.” He lifts his bottle and takes a drink. “Us Texans like our
    beer.”
    Not this one. “You can keep it. I don’t like it.”
    “Ever tried this one?” He shows me the bottle with some sort of
    special import label.
    “Never.”
    “Try it.” He offers me his bottle. “It’s a different taste altogether.”
    He wants me to drink from his bottle? “No. No thank you.”
    Meg