“You still buy wine based on if the label’s pretty.”
“How else are you supposed to do it?” she teased and lifted her glass, watching him over the rim of it as she sipped. “I suppose you rely on the advice of your personal sommelier.”
“I research,” Reese told her. “It’s not that hard.”
“Neither is picking out a bottle with a fun label,” Corinne said lightly. “Are you going to drink it, or are you going to waste it?”
“It’s already in my hand.”
“Good—” Her voice had dipped, but she cut herself off with a small cough and cut her gaze from his.
He wanted to take pleasure in the sight of her discomfort but couldn’t. He took a long sip of the wine and lifted the glass with a nod. “It’s good. Yeah.”
“So,” Corinne said crisply, “what is it, exactly, that you wanted to talk about?”
He took a seat at the breakfast nook, which had been styled to look like a retro diner booth. “This looks familiar.”
“It’s from the diner. About four years ago, Eddie did some renovations and auctioned off a bunch of the stuff he was replacing. I grabbed this and some other things that are still in storage until I can get around to fixing up my kitchen the way I’d like it to be. My ex didn’t like the diner look.”
“So as soon as you split up you put this in?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“A good way to stick it to him, I guess.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It was a good way to start working toward turning this kitchen, which he now no longer uses, into a space that would please me.”
It had been a dickish thing to say, and he knew it. “You always did know exactly what you wanted and how to get it.”
That should not have been a dickish statement, but he came out sounding like a total asshole anyway.
“It’s my house. Why shouldn’t I have it the way I like it?” Corinne asked in a clipped, controlled voice.
“You should always have everything the way you like it. Right?” Three strikes , Reese thought. You’re out.
He’d have deserved it, too, if she’d lost her shit with him, but all Corinne did was press her lips together and look at the glass of wine in her hand. It seemed that time had given her better control over her temper. Reese wasn’t sure that was the reaction he’d wanted.
“It’s getting late. Please show me what it is you have questions about so we can go over it.”
He spread the folders open in front of her to show the printouts he’d culled from the stacks of material Tony had prepared. “There are a couple of accounts that don’t match up. Some past end-of-year things.”
She tilted her head to look over the papers he was pulling out. With a frown, she tugged one set closer to her. “Yeah…these are from right around the time we switched to the new software. I took care of all that in the new system.”
“There’s no record of any of that.”
“Of what?” she asked sharply.
“Of the updated files.”
Corinne took a sip of wine before answering. “Where’d you pull this from?”
“Tony gave it to me.”
“Where did he get it?”
Reese sat back in his chair. “It was all part of the original information that Lynn sent us when we were collecting data before we decided to make the offer.”
“It didn’t come from the updated package I put together.”
“I—”
“It didn’t,” Corinne said. “It couldn’t have. The stuff Lynn put together was culled from older files he’d tried to access after a computer backup failed. He’s a great guy, but he’s not the most tech savvy. And, if you’ve done any research into this company at all, you know that they’re all great people, but it’s still a small, family run business and occasionally the way it’s been handled reflects that. If you’d asked me, though, I could’ve made sure you were working from the most current information.”
“I am asking you!”
“No,” she told him with a slow, deliberate shake of her head. “You’re trying to show me up.
“How else are you supposed to do it?” she teased and lifted her glass, watching him over the rim of it as she sipped. “I suppose you rely on the advice of your personal sommelier.”
“I research,” Reese told her. “It’s not that hard.”
“Neither is picking out a bottle with a fun label,” Corinne said lightly. “Are you going to drink it, or are you going to waste it?”
“It’s already in my hand.”
“Good—” Her voice had dipped, but she cut herself off with a small cough and cut her gaze from his.
He wanted to take pleasure in the sight of her discomfort but couldn’t. He took a long sip of the wine and lifted the glass with a nod. “It’s good. Yeah.”
“So,” Corinne said crisply, “what is it, exactly, that you wanted to talk about?”
He took a seat at the breakfast nook, which had been styled to look like a retro diner booth. “This looks familiar.”
“It’s from the diner. About four years ago, Eddie did some renovations and auctioned off a bunch of the stuff he was replacing. I grabbed this and some other things that are still in storage until I can get around to fixing up my kitchen the way I’d like it to be. My ex didn’t like the diner look.”
“So as soon as you split up you put this in?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“A good way to stick it to him, I guess.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It was a good way to start working toward turning this kitchen, which he now no longer uses, into a space that would please me.”
It had been a dickish thing to say, and he knew it. “You always did know exactly what you wanted and how to get it.”
That should not have been a dickish statement, but he came out sounding like a total asshole anyway.
“It’s my house. Why shouldn’t I have it the way I like it?” Corinne asked in a clipped, controlled voice.
“You should always have everything the way you like it. Right?” Three strikes , Reese thought. You’re out.
He’d have deserved it, too, if she’d lost her shit with him, but all Corinne did was press her lips together and look at the glass of wine in her hand. It seemed that time had given her better control over her temper. Reese wasn’t sure that was the reaction he’d wanted.
“It’s getting late. Please show me what it is you have questions about so we can go over it.”
He spread the folders open in front of her to show the printouts he’d culled from the stacks of material Tony had prepared. “There are a couple of accounts that don’t match up. Some past end-of-year things.”
She tilted her head to look over the papers he was pulling out. With a frown, she tugged one set closer to her. “Yeah…these are from right around the time we switched to the new software. I took care of all that in the new system.”
“There’s no record of any of that.”
“Of what?” she asked sharply.
“Of the updated files.”
Corinne took a sip of wine before answering. “Where’d you pull this from?”
“Tony gave it to me.”
“Where did he get it?”
Reese sat back in his chair. “It was all part of the original information that Lynn sent us when we were collecting data before we decided to make the offer.”
“It didn’t come from the updated package I put together.”
“I—”
“It didn’t,” Corinne said. “It couldn’t have. The stuff Lynn put together was culled from older files he’d tried to access after a computer backup failed. He’s a great guy, but he’s not the most tech savvy. And, if you’ve done any research into this company at all, you know that they’re all great people, but it’s still a small, family run business and occasionally the way it’s been handled reflects that. If you’d asked me, though, I could’ve made sure you were working from the most current information.”
“I am asking you!”
“No,” she told him with a slow, deliberate shake of her head. “You’re trying to show me up.
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