Jill’s stomach dropped. He can’t fucking be serious. “But it’s Thursday.” She felt a headache coming on as she thought of all the work her team would have to do and how little he would contribute. “These take a full week to prepare. You want to have all of this put together by Monday?”

“I do. It’s what I promised them.” He shut his laptop and placed it in his bag before putting on his suit jacket. “But you’ll get it done. You always do.” He walked past her without looking at her.

She stood in the vacant office for several seconds fighting the urge to throw the folders at his retreating form. Classic Harrison. As she stepped out of his office and closed the door a little harder than necessary, her stomach grumbled. She looked at her watch to see it was almost two. Thinking back to the last time she ate, she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. Unless two glasses of wine last night and three cups of coffee that morning counted.

She went back to her office and dropped the files on her desk before letting Ash know she was headed to lunch.

“Good luck,” she heard as she walked away.

Why do I need luck?

As soon as she stepped out of the building, she understood. The streets of downtown Indianapolis were much busier than a typical weekday. Looking at the banners on all the street lamps, she saw advertisements for a large gaming convention.

“Fucking perfect.” She straightened her shoulders, bracing herself for the crowds. She needed food, and she needed it now.

Reagan walked a few blocks to Gale’s Tavern, her favorite spot when she needed to relax and enjoy herself. It helped that her good friend, Damien, owned it. She took in the variety of people walking the streets—old, young, in cosplay and not. Downtown held many conventions each year which always meant good people watching, and it always meant good business for her restaurants.

As she entered Gale’s Tavern, a young woman at the host stand with the name Amy embroidered on her shirt greeted her. “Hi. Welcome to Gale’s Tavern. Just one?” She smiled but the slight droop in her eyelids and fly-away hairs from her ponytail signaled she’d probably seen more customers today than she would’ve liked.

Reagan looked past her into the crowded dining room, wondering if going out for lunch was such a good idea. “Yes, please.”

“We have one table left. It’s a bit in the back near the kitchen, if that’s okay?”

“Sounds perf—”

A slightly raspy voice from behind Reagan interrupted her. “Table for one.”