Taylor quickly looked away, but not before she saw something that looked like dismay on his face.
She took another quick sip, then stood. “I’ve still got a bit of work to do. Finish this for me, would you?” she said, handing the drink to Brit.
Taylor waved at the group and left the room to a chorus of “Bye, Taylor!”—very carefully avoiding looking at Nick Ballantine.
Even though she felt that he was looking at her.
TEN MONTHS AGO
“What do you mean, why Austria?” Taylor said into the phone, keeping her voice down as she stood in the Oxford break room and stirred sugar-free sweetener into her coffee. “It’s Austria. At Christmastime. It’s gorgeous. Google it.”
Her aunt didn’t reply right away, but Taylor could feel the phone getting colder against her cheek.
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Karen finally replied stiffly. “But my firm doesn’t provide much room for frivolity, even during the holidays.”
Taylor narrowed her eyes just slightly, trying to figure out whether or not that was a subtle jab at Taylor’s career choice, and the fact that Oxford was more relaxed than the law firm where her aunt worked.
Taylor had worked hard to please the difficult woman who raised her, but she’d drawn the line at becoming an attorney. She’d tried. She’d made it through an entire semester at Harvard Law before acknowledging that nothing about it appealed to her.
When Taylor quit law school, her aunt’s disappointment was the closest thing Taylor had ever seen to emotion in Karen (who didn’t like to be called Aunt Karen). The topic of careers had been a tense one between them ever since.
“What if we made it a short trip?” Taylor said, carefully keeping the plea out of her voice. “Four days. My treat.”
“If we were to go to Europe, we’d split the costs, obviously.”
Taylor smiled. It was so Karen. The second Taylor had turned sixteen, she’d been expected to get a job to learn the importance of paying one’s own way.
“I’ll talk to the other senior partners about it, but don’t get your hopes up,” Karen said.
Taylor’s smile slipped as she heard the clack of computer keys, which meant that her aunt had already returned her attention to her work.
Conversation over, apparently.
As for Austria? Off the table.
Taylor knew her aunt. There was no way she was asking her partners about something she clearly didn’t want to do.
Taylor inhaled for patience. Oh well. It had been a long shot. Karen had never seemed to care one way or the other if Taylor went to Boston for Christmas, and she had never once offered to come to New York.
Taylor’s childhood hadn’t been festive. There’d been a tabletop fake Christmas tree per Taylor’s insistence. And though money had never been an issue, the gifts had been practical, never fun. The stockings nonexistent. Needless to say, there’d been no baking cookies, no carols, no decorating a gingerbread house, and Taylor had learned the very first Christmas under her aunt’s roof that Santa Claus was a commercially driven fantasy.
She’d been five.
“I’ve got to run,” Karen was saying. “Was there anything else?”
No, no. Nothing else. Just hoping my only living relative might want to do something fun for the holidays. Or at least see me.
“Nope, all good,” Taylor said, matching her aunt’s no-nonsense tone the way she’d been brought up to do. “Talk soon.”
Her aunt made a noncommittal noise and hung up.
Taylor set her phone on the counter and took a bracing sip of coffee, wishing that there was a little something stronger splashed in to ease the pain of the rejection.
She turned to head back to her office, only to be treated to the unwelcome sight of Nick Ballantine strolling into her orbit.
Taylor glared. “What are you doing here?”
Nick ambled toward the coffeepot and filled his mug. “Sorry, Carr. Didn’t realize this was your personal kitchen.”
“It’s Oxford’s kitchen. You’re not an employee,” she griped, her bad mood making her petty.
Although to be fair, she was always petty around this guy. In the couple of months since her first day, when they’d bickered in the lobby, their paths had crossed from time to time, but none of their encounters had been friendly.
“That bothers you, huh?” he asked, leaning a hip against the counter and turning to study her. “That I don’t work here full-time?”
“It bothers me that you’re a man-child who can’t commit to a job like a grown-up.”
He looked like a grown-up, though. She might dislike him and his laissez-faire attitude intensely, but there was no denying that Nick Ballantine was all man.
As usual, there was no sign of a tie, but he wore a sport coat over his dress shirt today that emphasized his broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Flat abs. Damn it.
“Did I mention I modeled for art students in college?” he asked, seeming to read her mind, the way he too often did.
“Didn’t realize bartending required a degree,” she said snidely, jabbing at his other career.
Nick’s gaze turned cool, his face showing disgust. “Some days I think I’ll figure out just what the hell made you so damn bitchy, but then I remember I don’t give a shit.”
Much as she hated to admit it, his chastisement was well deserved.
She lifted her chin defiantly and did what had to be done. “I’m sorry. Truly. That was uncalled for.”
He studied her, his expression unreadable.
She definitely wasn’t prepared for his next question. “So. Austria for Christmas, huh?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You were eavesdropping?” she asked, already regretting that she’d apologized to this ass.
“Have to do something to keep myself busy. What with me not working and all. And you’re right, by the way. Austria for Christmas’s not a bad gig.”
“You’ve been?” she asked reluctantly, intrigued despite her annoyance.
“Took the fam a couple of years ago. You and your boyfriend will love it, assuming you let him out of the cell I suppose you lock him in.”
“No boyfriend,” she muttered, taking a sip of coffee.
“Rumor has it Calloway’s interested in applying for the job.”
Taylor lifted a shoulder. Bradley Calloway was the new advertising exec who’d started a couple of weeks ago. He was charming, attractive, good at his job…exactly Taylor’s type.
Bradley had hinted more than once that they should “get together” after work, and Taylor was fairly sure he didn’t mean as co-workers.
She figured she’d say yes, eventually. But despite the fact that he was everything that appealed to her on paper, she just couldn’t seem to get herself…interested.
“A family trip to Austria, then,” Nick said. “That’ll be nice.”
Taylor lifted her hand to her temple and rubbed the spot where a headache was beginning before she remembered that it was bad form to show weakness in front of the enemy. “I thought so.”
“Parents and/or siblings don’t agree?” he asked casually, taking a sip of coffee.
“My aunt.” Not that I’m allowed to call her that. “And she’s not interested. Can’t get the time off.”
Doesn’t want to take the time off.
“Ah. Sorry.”