waiting to go home. Where are you off to? I thought I was going to come see you back in Sydney.”
“I’m going back to New York. I have just over,” he checks his chunky metal watch, “three hours to kill. You?”
I've got four. Interesting…
“My flight's at 9.45.”
I look up to see the tiniest resemblance of a smile emerge on his full lips. Lips that kissed me so damn well.
Without invitation, Tristan pulls the wooden chair and sits opposite me. My face warms at this close proximity, and I keep my eyes on the laptop.
“You know, you really shouldn’t watch porn in public,” he snorts, commenting the fact that my face is now the colour of beetroot. It’s because of you!
I look up at him and close the laptop.
“The trip away agrees with you. You look good with a bit of a tan.”
“Thanks—”
“Straight-Laced.”
I smirk. “Well your look is interchangeable with a farmer's. In fact I'm going to call you Farmer from now on.”
“You can call me whatever you want,” he blazes at me with those eyes.
I stare at him in disbelief. How can he go from making me hate him one second, and love to hate him the next?
“So…what are you going to be doing to kill time?” he looks eagerly at me for a response.
I shrug casually. “Have a quick dinner, take a nap on those couches. Do you want some banana bread?”
He shakes his head. “I was on my way to the lounge, join me. Great food, a lot quieter and the chairs are a lot more comfortable.”
Three hours alone with Tristan? I wasn’t prepared for this. Not in the slightest.
“I can’t, I flew economy. They won't let me in.”
“Don't worry, I will get you in,” he smiles at me and stands up. “Let's go.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I stare at him with an irritable look.
“What if I like where I am?”
“You will like the lounge better, trust me on this.”
He’s unfazed by his high-handedness and stands there, urging me to pack my things. Well I can’t really refuse my new boss can I, even if I’m tempted to talk back at him? Grabbing my laptop, I crouch down and quickly pack it away. Before I get a chance to grab the bag, Tristan swoops in and takes it.
“Are you trying to be a gentleman?”
“Something like that.”
“I can carry my bags.”
“I could carry you if I wanted.”
I blush.
“But I’m not going to, and you’re not going to carry your bags. So come on, let’s go,” he says gently but firmly and starts walking ahead.
Letting out a quiet breath I take my handbag and quickly dash out of the food court to catch up with him.
♦
“If you say this is all paid for, then I will have another iced tea thanks. And another bowl of trail mix!”
Tristan smiles. “Sure, whatever you want.”
He ushers the bartender to make another drink, and orders a scotch, neat, for himself. We are sitting at the bar, our knees just inches from touching. Just the two of us, no one to disturb us for miles. After a bit of initial awkwardness and keeping the focus of the conversation on the business, we’re bantering like we always did. Just like that day, before all that mess happened. He’s back to his usual tongue-in-cheek bastardy self and I am using any semblance of my wits to retort back to his jibes. It’s so easy again, just being with him.
He’s right. We can be totally professional about this. The job Tristan has lined up for me is still being discussed, and he will give me all the relevant information in a few days. I offered to contact the client but he insisted on negotiating himself.
Tristan really is a shrewd businessman but his fees, in my opinion, exorbitant. I would have never dreamed of charging that much myself. However, given the list of clients he has on roster and the reputation he has built for himself he can afford to charge that much - Fortune 500 Corporations, Non-Profit Organisations, Wealthy Individuals and Families to name a few. He is
“I’m going back to New York. I have just over,” he checks his chunky metal watch, “three hours to kill. You?”
I've got four. Interesting…
“My flight's at 9.45.”
I look up to see the tiniest resemblance of a smile emerge on his full lips. Lips that kissed me so damn well.
Without invitation, Tristan pulls the wooden chair and sits opposite me. My face warms at this close proximity, and I keep my eyes on the laptop.
“You know, you really shouldn’t watch porn in public,” he snorts, commenting the fact that my face is now the colour of beetroot. It’s because of you!
I look up at him and close the laptop.
“The trip away agrees with you. You look good with a bit of a tan.”
“Thanks—”
“Straight-Laced.”
I smirk. “Well your look is interchangeable with a farmer's. In fact I'm going to call you Farmer from now on.”
“You can call me whatever you want,” he blazes at me with those eyes.
I stare at him in disbelief. How can he go from making me hate him one second, and love to hate him the next?
“So…what are you going to be doing to kill time?” he looks eagerly at me for a response.
I shrug casually. “Have a quick dinner, take a nap on those couches. Do you want some banana bread?”
He shakes his head. “I was on my way to the lounge, join me. Great food, a lot quieter and the chairs are a lot more comfortable.”
Three hours alone with Tristan? I wasn’t prepared for this. Not in the slightest.
“I can’t, I flew economy. They won't let me in.”
“Don't worry, I will get you in,” he smiles at me and stands up. “Let's go.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I stare at him with an irritable look.
“What if I like where I am?”
“You will like the lounge better, trust me on this.”
He’s unfazed by his high-handedness and stands there, urging me to pack my things. Well I can’t really refuse my new boss can I, even if I’m tempted to talk back at him? Grabbing my laptop, I crouch down and quickly pack it away. Before I get a chance to grab the bag, Tristan swoops in and takes it.
“Are you trying to be a gentleman?”
“Something like that.”
“I can carry my bags.”
“I could carry you if I wanted.”
I blush.
“But I’m not going to, and you’re not going to carry your bags. So come on, let’s go,” he says gently but firmly and starts walking ahead.
Letting out a quiet breath I take my handbag and quickly dash out of the food court to catch up with him.
♦
“If you say this is all paid for, then I will have another iced tea thanks. And another bowl of trail mix!”
Tristan smiles. “Sure, whatever you want.”
He ushers the bartender to make another drink, and orders a scotch, neat, for himself. We are sitting at the bar, our knees just inches from touching. Just the two of us, no one to disturb us for miles. After a bit of initial awkwardness and keeping the focus of the conversation on the business, we’re bantering like we always did. Just like that day, before all that mess happened. He’s back to his usual tongue-in-cheek bastardy self and I am using any semblance of my wits to retort back to his jibes. It’s so easy again, just being with him.
He’s right. We can be totally professional about this. The job Tristan has lined up for me is still being discussed, and he will give me all the relevant information in a few days. I offered to contact the client but he insisted on negotiating himself.
Tristan really is a shrewd businessman but his fees, in my opinion, exorbitant. I would have never dreamed of charging that much myself. However, given the list of clients he has on roster and the reputation he has built for himself he can afford to charge that much - Fortune 500 Corporations, Non-Profit Organisations, Wealthy Individuals and Families to name a few. He is
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