Chapter 38
Lyman’s brow furrowed unconsciously, a heaviness settling in his chest.
“How did you get hurt?” he asked.
Effie hesitated, then instinctively pulled her hand back, awkwardly replying, “I accidentally scalded myself with some tea.”
She couldn’t help but wonder-had Suzan done it on purpose?
Tea that hot was barely drinkable, after all.
Without another word, Lyman gently took her hand and led her to the sink. He turned on the cold water and held her hand under the stream.
His expression was focused, as if he were handling something precious.
Lyman’s hand was large and warm, wrapping securely around Effie’s slender wrist.
The cold water soothed the red skin on the back of her hand, cooling it, but it did nothing to hide the blush rising on her cheeks.
“Does it hurt?” Lyman asked softly, his gaze never leaving her hand.
Effie shook her head. “No, it’s fine now.”
In truth, it still stung, but as she watched the concentration on Lyman’s face, the pain seemed insignificant.
Lyman’s brow knit tighter. “How could you be so careless with piping-hot tea?”
Effie opened her mouth, wanting to say that Suzan might have done it on purpose, but in the end, she swallowed the words.
She didn’t want to worry him.
“Maybe the server wasn’t paying attention to the temperature,” she said lightly. Lyman glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
He turned off the tap, reached into his suit pocket, and pulled out a deep blue handkerchief, gently patting her hand dry.
“There’s some ointment for burns at home. Are you able to walk? Let’s go back,” he said.
Effie sighed. “I can’t leave yet-Mr. Horace still hasn’t signed the contract!”
That Mr. Horace was proving to be quite a handful.
But she was determined to get the deal done tonight; she couldn’t give Mitchell any more excuses.
Lyman’s frown deepened. After more than an hour of socializing, she’d managed to burn herself, and the contract still wasn’t signed?
His face turned cold. “I’ll have Luther come handle it.”
Who did Horace think he was?
He’d sign, one way or another.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Besides, don’t you have another appointment? You should go,” Effie urged.
“It’s done,” Lyman replied coolly, giving her a look that brooked no argument. “Come on, let’s go home.”
She had no choice but to follow him.
Once they were in the car, Lyman called Luther, filled him in on what happened, and asked him to take over.
Effie felt genuinely embarrassed-she’d have to thank Luther properly next time she saw him.
Meanwhile, in another private lounge, Vinson Elliott and his close friends were raising their glasses.
Several empty bottles already littered the table.
“Hey, where’s Lyman? Didn’t he set this whole thing up? He was the one who picked this place.”
“Yeah, you think he’s got an old flame here or something?”
“Old flame? Please. Sometimes I wonder about Lyman’s preferences-years have
gone by and I’ve never seen him with a woman. Well, except Isabel.”
The jokes started to fly.
Vinson downed his drink and drawled, “Relax. I just called him—he’s probably outside. Something must’ve come up.”
Before long, the group was in full party mode, none of them realizing that Lyman -distracted by a beautiful woman-had already bailed on them.
Still, they waited, grinning, expecting Lyman to show up and pick up the tab.