Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1)

by Jaqueline Snowe

  He scoffed, setting his pizza down and staring me down. “Why do you sound surprised?”

  “Uh, I don’t know?” I grimaced, avoiding his stare. “Sorry?”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m incredibly loyal to those I care about. That goes without saying. I thought you knew that.”

  My heart skipped a beat again, but I hid any reaction. “Now I do.”

  “Good. Glad that’s settled.” He gave me a curt nod, going back to his pizza. I tried not to watch his jaw with every bite he took. I failed, miserably so. It was perfectly sculpted, and my fingers itched to touch it. Shit.

  Focus, Grace.

  Friends, remember?

  Oh, and he is your boss. Keep it classy.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Brock’s hesitancy made me nervous. I gulped. “Of course.”

  “Do you think you would ever work at the stadium again?”

  “Hell yeah. I love it more than I thought I would. No, it’s exactly what I hoped it would be. It’s challenging, yet not so hard I’m frustrated. It’s exhausting, but I leave happy every day.” I smiled like a goon as the truth of my answer settled around us.

  “That’s a hell of an answer.”

  “It’s the truth.” I pursed my lips. “Why do you ask?”

  “If a position opened up, I was just curious.” He looked away, his shoulder sagging a little bit. “Would you uh, work with me again?”

  I wanted to shout “duh” at him but held off. Did I? Did I want to battle this attraction to him every day when it was clear he wanted to be friends? I must’ve waited too long to answer because he tensed. He sat up straighter, and the smile was nowhere on his face. My stomach dropped, and I coughed. “Yes. Yes. I would work with you again. You’re amazing at what you do, and I think we generally have a good time. Right?”

  “Right,” he answered with a clipped tone.

  I rolled my eyes, hitting him in the shoulder with my hand. He looked at me with disbelief. I made my eyes go wide and grinned when one side of his mouth lifted just enough. “Did that hurt?”

  “Did what?”

  “Smiling. You act like it’s a chore sometimes. You’re temperamental.” I stood, grabbing his plate and napkin from him to set in the sink. I had to reach up to grab an extra towel from the cabinet and groaned as my hip hit the counter. The bruise from the night before throbbed a bit. But, before I could do anything, Brock stood right next to me with a huge frown. “What?”

  “Let me look.”

  “Look at—hey!” I swatted at him as he lifted the end of my shirt up. He lifted it maybe two inches, exposing the purple bruise on my hip. “What are you doing?”

  “Examining this. I saw it from the table.”

  His breath hit my face as he eyed the bruise. He touched around it, pushing on the skin slightly, and I flinched. “Sorry. Just checking. You eat a lot. I check injuries. We all have our quirks.”

  I laughed nervously as he kept his fingers on my bare skin a second longer. I prayed he couldn’t see my heart beating furiously in my chest because it was going at an embarrassingly fast rate. “Is it true putting a banana on a bruise heals it?”

  “Um, it won’t heal the injury but maybe change the coloring of it.” He didn’t look affected by me at all. Calm, cool, and collected Anderson turned me into a damn fool.

  “Let’s go get some coffee, handsy.”

  “Handsy?”

  “Yeah. You. You don’t just lift people’s shirts and check their hips.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brock stayed over until after dinner and coffee, helping me finish the project and clean up without muttering a single complaint. He refused to let me pay for the coffee, and I made a mental note to think of a way to pay him back. There had been zero Asshole Anderson moments the entire day, and when that happened, my heart had a hell of a time forgetting we were friends with a side of colleagues. I needed an intervention.

  We cleaned off the kitchen table because I’d let myself go. Pens, paperclips, candy wrappers, and water bottles filled the table. I liked to nestle when I worked, and boy, did I nestle the past two days. I observed him as he organized everything into piles. His attention to detail had always impressed me at work, but he was meticulous at everything: cleaning up the kitchen, organizing notecards, stacking the pens in a way that made more sense than I could’ve imagined. He was a neat freak, but it fit him. For someone who needed control in every aspect of his life, it made sense.

  I finished the entire project, collapsing onto the couch with exhaustion after emailing it to my professor. Brock joined me, his legs touching mine as he sat. “I can’t believe I did it. We did it. Thank you.”

  “I said I didn’t miss this shit, but I enjoyed it a bit.” He grinned, putting his arm around me for a quick hug so casually I almost missed it. My body broke out in goosebumps whenever he was near, and when his fingers dangled on my shoulder, I shivered. “Your project kicks ass, if I do say so myself.”

  “Yeah, probably because you helped write some of it.”

  “True. I did. And, I can be a genius sometimes.”

  “Yeah? You did have a creepy smile on your face when you browsed the notes. I’ll admit, it was amusing watching you work.” I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My fuzzy socks poked out.

  “You were watching me?” he asked, laughing a bit. “I like that.”

  “Please,” I scoffed. “People watch you all the time. You must know that. You’re this presence that people like watching. I don’t know. You’re fascinating.” He blinked slowly a couple times, making me feel all sorts of nervous. “Nevermind.”

  “No, finish your thought. I’m curious.” He nudged me with his leg and raised his dark brows.

  “Fishing for compliments, Brock?” I teased but stopped when his expression turned serious. My stomach soured, empathy taking over. This was a guy who thought very low of himself since the accident. As tough and intelligent as he was, he was a little broken inside. “You handsome, silly man.”

  One side of his lip curled up, but those dark blue eyes waited for me to continue. I put my small hand on his arm this time, squeezing him. “No one watches you with pity, Brock. If that’s what you’re thinking. They watch you with awe and pride. Here you are, in the prime of most men’s athletic years, working your ass off for a sport you were forced to give up. You’re amazing, really. You’re intelligent, everyone who works around you admires the hell out of you, and you refused to let life get the best of you. You help the dumbasses like Q and Chip, make sure your staff is treated fairly, and you helped me with this project which you had no obligation to do. You’re a good guy, Brock. Sometimes, I think you forget that.”

  My heart pounded as his face fell slightly, his lips pressing together so hard they turned white. His eyes shattered me, and I panicked, needing to ease the tension. I patted his knee with a shaking hand. “Although, you can be a bit grumpy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been told my nickname was Asshole Anderson by this smartass I know,” he joked. He freaking joked.

  I shook my head, laughing. “Was?” I raised my brows. “More like, occasionally is?” Suddenly, I remembered why we were even supposed to meet the night before. “Shit!” I yelled, causing him to jump. “Your resume! We never got to do it. I’m sorry!”

  “It’s okay. Your project was more important.”

  “No. Well, for me, yes. But, you! Do you want to spend a little time on it?”

  “I have to admit something to you. I sort of lied.” He looked at the ground, my body tensing. I hated lies. Hated them. I had enough of them with my dad and the doctors giving us false hope. I needed the harsh, cold truth every single time. I scooted back, my expression tight. Brock’s eyes widened when they met my face, and he shook his head, smiling a little. “It’s not what you think.”

  “I hate lies,” I said, barely above a whisper. “No matter how small. If you have them, I need to know.”

  “Grace, l
ook at me,” he demanded. “I only meant, I don’t need too much help going over my resume. I’d rather hang out with you. You make me laugh. The resume was a nice way to make it happen. I’m sorry.”

  Oh.

  He wanted to hang out with me? Swoon. That wasn’t a lie, not really. “Well, why didn’t you say that?”

  “I’m not sure. Next time, I will.” He nodded, more to himself than me, and I rolled my eyes.

  “You are odd. I don’t get you sometimes.” I leaned back into the couch, forgetting his arm rested there, and froze when he repositioned himself so his arm was around me. “For future reference, I generally never pass up food, coffee, or a good beer.”

  “I’ll be sure to remember.” He smiled, yawning in the process. “Why don’t you get me? I think I’m a simple guy.”

  “Sure. You can be. But, you’re hot or cold. I’ll be honest with you. You help me out and bring me food, and I love it. I do. It’s great, but I never know when the switch is going to go off, and you’ll go back to being a jerk.” I shrugged, ignoring his pained expression.

  He sighed with a resigned look on his face, wiping his hands on the fabric of his shorts. “I understand.” He stood up, yawning again and meeting my eyes. “I think I’m going to head out. I’m exhausted.”

  “Okay. I’ll walk you out.” I went to stand, but he held out a hand for me to take. It was entirely unnecessary, but I put my hand in his anyway. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He motioned for me to go first, which I got a wonderful whiff of his cologne. It was subtle, wearing off most of the day, but I hummed in response. He walked through the doorway and took a couple steps down.

  “Wait,” I barked.

  “What’s wrong, Grace?” His face immediately went into concern, and my heart broke a little bit at his expression. It was perfect. I continued to hold up my hand and build up my courage. I stood to face him entirely, but my height forced me to look up to meet his eyes. “I wanted to thank you. Sincerely. You went above and beyond what most people would do. I owe you, majorly.”

  “I had a good time. So, you’re welcome.” He grinned, and his eyes widened when I wrapped my arms all the way around him. I squeezed him tight. I always hugged like it would be the last one, and he hesitated at first. Then, he enveloped me in an embrace that somehow put some pieces back together that broke throughout the years.

  He took his time pulling away and put his hand on my shoulder with a squeeze. “You give a hell of a hug.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “No, I liked it.” He smiled sheepishly before yawning again.

  “Go home. You’re dead on your feet.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He ran a strong hand over his jaw as his eyes pursued my outfit. “You rock the sweatpants and fuzzy socks look, by the way.”

  “Bye Brock!” I yelled, shutting the door on him. His chuckle made my chest get warm, and I leaned against the door scolding myself. I was not falling for my boss. Not at all.

  I slept like a damn baby. I woke up before my alarm and decided to walk to work since it was beautiful outside that day. It was my favorite weather in the Midwest, cool and crisp in the morning but perfect in the afternoon. Days like this only lasted for maybe two weeks before winter took control of October. So, I chugged my coffee and left early enough to enjoy the walk.

  I didn’t expect to see Brock sitting in the breakroom with a steaming cup of coffee and a crossword as soon as I walked in. He somehow made crosswords sexy.

  “Hey.” He set the paper down, turning to face me. He wore the pullover, damn him. His eyes danced like he knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Hey, Brock.” I stared at him a second longer with one brow raised before grabbing my mug and getting my own cup of steaming coffee. Yes. It was a two-coffee day because I’d lost so much sleep the past two nights.

  I took up my normal spot, the chair closest to the door, and waited for Logan to arrive. It was our routine, and I wouldn’t give Brock the satisfaction of including him. I took a sip, damn well noticing his lack of movement. He did not write anything with the pen, nor did he take his eyes off me. I felt that piercing stare and forced myself not to react. There was no way he was doing that damn crossword, and we both knew it.

  “Grace, you cannot ignore me like that again. I was worried,” Logan said, coming in hot. His eyes darted from me to Brock with questions brewing. “Hey Brock, what do we owe this pleasure? You a part of our gossip coffee talks now?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his gaze finding mine. They were serious and protective. Ugh. Logan shrugged and soon joined me at the table like it wasn’t totally weird.

  I winced as the meaning of his words took root. “I’m sorry for ignoring your text yesterday, Logan.”

  “Where were you?” he asked, and I tried to fight a smile at how proud Brock looked.

  “I was finishing up a major project for my class. The original file was corrupt or something.”

  Logan nodded. “The one with the nice professor or the asshole?”

  “Nice professor.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your boss is the asshole.” He got that jibe in, my face breaking out into a smile. I glanced at Brock, amusement dancing in his eyes, but other than that, he had no expression.

  “Can be, that’s for sure,” I added, causing Logan to chuckle. “Any new stories for me? Still need me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

  Brock stiffened at my joke, but I had no inclination to explain.

  “Yeah, God. Tuesday night, was it?” Logan stared off into the distance earning a major eye roll from me. He was so over the top. He chewed on his lip when he said, “Yeah, I found this girl on Tinder, but she ended up being an ex from high school. Talk about awkward. I showed up at her place, bolting as soon as she opened the door. Hell to the no.”

  “You’re a mess, Logan. A mess.” I laughed, taking a large sip of my brew. “Did she say anything?”

  “Yeah. As soon as she saw me, her squeaky ass voice chirped my name. My dick shriveled up and went inside my body. I had to go.” He hit the table with a face of horror. “My life should be reality TV.”

  “Or an ad campaign for condoms. You’re the walking definition of an STD risk.”

  “I could get them to sponsor me. That’s not a bad idea. Hey, I’ll pitch the idea. Former football player coaches during the day and plays the field at night. Would you watch it?”

  “Eh, I don’t like smut. It would be interesting as hell. But, you’re smut.”

  “True.” He sighed and tipped the mug all the way back to finish it. “Well, we are grabbing lunch today, Grace. You can’t ignore me and get away with it.”

  “I have to work, so we’ll see.” I flipped him off as he walked out, but he winked at me and pointed to Brock with a confused expression. He had to know something was going on. I eyed Brock, who still sat there with the puzzle and his mug being all sorts of silent. “So?”

  “So, what?” he said, those delicious lips curving just for me.

  “Did you enjoy my morning chat with Logan?” I took a shot, almost positive that he’d had some motive.

  His blank expression had me questioning myself. He eyed me over his mug, shrugging.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I blew out a raspberry with my lips and shook my head in disbelief. His grin widened before he wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “Have you even done any of the puzzle?”

  “Doubting me?” He put a hand on his chest and let out a dramatic gasp. “Rude.”

  “Prove it.” I walked up to the table, leaning over to see the puzzle, but he was quick and moved it out of sight. “Lack of evidence seems to prove I am right. You’re a poser.”

  “Nah, I did some.” He stood up, his tall frame preventing me from seeing a thing. “Trust me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, boss man.” I nudged him before walking toward the door. “Well, big guy, I need to do some work. I can’t sit around and
gossip all day.”

  He rolled his eyes, the action so unlike Brock, I had to walk away to hide my grin. Shit, shit, shit. That was flirting. It had been going strong for three days. Three days, and I’d turned into this stupid, giggling love-struck teenager. Who was to say he wouldn’t regret it hours later like he did back in the hotel? No one. That’s who.

  Good, my brain built up the base of the wall he’d torn down. That was a start. I needed to protect myself.

  I went through the normal Thursday morning routine, the game being two days away, so the guys were running plays and studying the opponent. It wasn’t too hot out either, the water not being consumed at shocking rates. It was about midday when I walked into the training room and found Brock verbally sparring with Chip.

  “Clowns? Hell no, Anderson,” Chip said, his face lighting up with a challenge. “You want to go, old man? Think you still got it?”

  “I could still out run you and catch one-handed.” Brock’s words rang true. “Want to put some money on it?”

  “Hell yeah. Twenty bucks.” Chip grinned, holding out his free hand. “You’re on, Anderson.”

  “After practice?” Brock asked, meeting my eyes as I came into view. They were lit up, sparkling and excited for the challenge.

  “Yup. Sprints?”

  “We’ll do some drills.” Brock smacked his hand, shaking it. “Ready, Grace?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I mumbled, getting a grin from Chip. “Want to race there?”

  “Please.” He dismissed me, raising a hand to the players. When we were outside the training room, he spoke in a softer voice. “I don’t want you to hurt your knee.”

  “Ah, here I thought you were afraid of my speed. But no, you’re being all chivalrous and shit.”

  “Chivalrous and shit. That sounds like a good start of an online profile.” he said, the tone of his voice rising at the end in question. “Bad joke?”

  “Not your best, not your worst.” Our shoulders bumped as we walked the stadium. “Where are we off to, boss man?”