In Between the Earth and Sky

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Brenda grinned. “You're the weirdest person I know.” She tugged the brush through Lydia's hair, ignoring the grimace.

  “I will take that as a compliment.”

  “You would.”

  “I'll do better next time,” Lydia promised softly.

  Brenda's gray eyes connected with Lydia's and she smiled gently. “Are you okay at least?”

  “I think so. I mean, I haven't checked for skid marks on my boobs yet.”

  Brenda's laughter was worth it all. The fall out of the shower, cleaning Dweedle's kitchen, and missing the sunrise on the ridge.

  Brenda tipped her head back and let out a deep throaty laugh that filled the restroom with vibrations of joy.

  Lydia wasn't sure when it started or why, but people's laughter was one of her favorite things. She sought it out, fought for it, reveled in it. Everyone had a different one, filled with unique cadence, tone and clarity.

  And Lydia loved every single one.

  After Brenda had brushed her hair out and used the hand dryer to “style” it, Lydia hurried back to her desk. Brenda kept moving to the elevator. Her office was two floors down.

  “You're late,” Merrick Jones, her boss, brilliant scientist, and Britain's answer to Bradley Cooper said. He was handsome, clever, and—

  “Surprisingly, you're looking less like you’re homeless today, Miss Larkin.”

  A complete ass.

  Or arse, to be more accurate.

  Lydia smiled flatly, thankful for Brenda's intervention. God bless that woman.

  While she hadn't exactly been violating the dress code, Merrick never failed to point out when she looked... unkempt. Especially on days he wanted the Institute to be at its best.

  His comments were never personally upsetting to Lydia, nor was that their intent. Merrick spoke brusquely. It was usually a feature she admired about him.

  When it wasn’t being used to describe her attire.

  But he wasn't wrong. Dressing for an office setting didn't come naturally to her. That field wasn’t where she wanted to be and she rebelled as often as she was given opportunity. She preferred jeans and any t-shirt within reaching distance. Usually something with a rock band on it that she had inherited in a box from her grandmother who had been a merch girl in the 70s and 80s.

  Unfortunately, torn up jeans and a Pink Floyd t-shirt didn't exactly meet the company dress code. The good news was she could wear whatever she wanted most of the time in the office and in the green house. And of course when she was in the field. She only had to meet dress code on Mondays and when there was an inspection. Which was what she called the quarterly visits from the investors in New York and Houston.

  She picked up her notebook and pen and followed Merrick into his office.

  Her conversation with her mom that morning on her way into work came back to her uninvited.

  “Maybe if you finished school, you could get your own office. Like Merrick has.”

  “I know, mom.”

  “Or you could come home and help me out.”

  Yes, Merrick had a great big fancy office. It was so fancy, it was two offices—a main one where he kept his granite desk and walls covered in rare art pieces, and a smaller one just outside the double doors where his secretary worked.

  He was so important, he got to have his own assistant. A personal secretary. With a desk of her own.

  Maybe being a secretary to Merrick Jones wasn’t the most glamorous of all the jobs she’d held in the past. But she would do this for one hundred more years before she ever went home to “help” her mom.

  And while going back to school wasn’t completely out of the question, the last thing she wanted was to end up with a degree that chained her to anything.

  She took a seat in the chair across from her boss, propping the notebook on her knee.

  “A slight change of plans to the schedule this week,” Merrick began.

  The tone of his voice had Lydia’s eyes darting to him with a frown.

  It wasn’t unusual for Merrick to spring changes on her. It happened to be a favorite pastime of theirs. He would try to be spontaneous and she would play along. But something about his tight expression told her this was different.

  “I’m going to send you to the cabin for the week—”

  Lydia’s back straightened as indignation filled her chest.

  Not cool.

  She had planned and prepared for this week. She was more ready than she’d ever been.

  She’d bought dress pants and sensible shoes!

  Merrick sending her away for the week wasn’t fair. Just because he thought she would act like an idiot when the investors showed up wasn’t reason enough to not give her a chance.

  She had even watched videos on YouTube on how to behave around international business people!

  Merrick cut himself off with his own sigh. “Don’t look at me like that, please.”

  “Like what?” She tilted her head to the side, keeping her face neutral.

  “Like I just set your research paper on fire.”

  Lydia sucked in a breath but it did nothing to calm her down. She pressed her lips together and gripped the pen in her hand.

  She knew what he was afraid of. And honestly, it made sense. She had never been one to keep her opinions or information to herself.

  “I know you think I can’t handle it, Merrick, but I promise I’ll be good. You don’t have to send me away.”

  His gray eyes glanced up at her and back to his desk. He blinked several times at his folded hands in front of him. Thinking. Breathing. Contemplating.

  “I’ve given it a lot of thought, Lydia.”

  Shit.

  He’d called her Lydia.

  “It’s not the right time,” he said, his deep voice steady and unwavering. With just a hint of an edge to it.

  Lydia bit down on the inside of her cheek.

  A smarter person would hear the hint in his voice and accept his decision without further argument. Maybe smarter wasn’t right… A saner person would let this go.

  But Lydia had always been one to tie herself to any rocket she saw.

  “Why can’t I stay?”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek and he sat back in his chair. Deceptively casual. If she didn’t know him any better, she would think he was as relaxed as he looked.

  “We have an agreement, Lydia. You get a free pass to do...” he wiggled his fingers in her general direction. “Whatever it is you do—”

  “Which I excel at.”

  Merrick's eyelids fluttered in the slightest of ways. The one physical tell she was under his skin. “And,” he continued, ignoring her. “I run the actual facility.”

  “Right.” She nodded once. “That's exactly our agreement.”

  His chest rose slowly with a breath she could almost hear begging the heavens for patience. “That doesn't mean you send grant requests to New York without my knowledge.”

  Lydia rolled her lips inward.

  Oh. That's right.

  “Also, you don't get to approve funding for proposals that are still pending here in the office.” His stern polished expression frowned hard at her. The thread of betrayal he felt evident in the crease between his eyes.

  Lydia pursed her lips and huffed once. “You were going to approve them anyway. I just wanted to—”

  Merrick shoved quickly to his feet, cutting off her words. He pressed his palms flat on the table and leaned toward her. “You forged my signature!”

  Yep. She'd done that.

  He straightened and looked to the ceiling. “I don't know what to do with you anymore. I really don't.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, mussing his normally slicked back style. “I should fire you. If you were a normal person, you'd be fired already.” He snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “If you were a normal person, you'd probably be in jail.”

  Unfortunately, he was probably right.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Merrick lifted his eyes
and his lips twitched. “No, you're not.”

  They stared at one another. Lydia didn't know what to say. He had valid points and she deserved more than a wrist slap this time.

  But he was right, she wasn't sorry. Not in the traditional sense of regretting an action. She would do it again if given the chance. Those studies needed to be fast tracked and not lost in the red tape of stupid, stupid, stupid bureaucracy.

  “Instead of firing you,” Merrick started slowly. “I'm sending you to the cabin. It’s a bloody decent compromise in my opinion.”

  The cabin in this case was literally a cabin. But it was used as a greenhouse. It was intern’s work. Not that Lydia didn’t like it out there, she did. But she liked to go on her own and for her own reasons. Being sent out there, as if she were any other employee, meant she would have to check the boxes and follow procedure.

  So, no, he wasn’t firing her.

  But he was reminding her exactly where her place was.

  She dropped her eyes, staring sightlessly at the face of his enormous desk. Her mother’s suggestions ringing through her head again. Because maybe if she’d have followed even half of the woman’s advice, she would have some kind of power in situations such as this.

  But no, her choices were what brought her to Merrick in the first place.

  And she’d known him too long to give up without a small argument.

  At least.

  He must have sensed it coming (not surprising) because when she lifted her eyes he was already patiently shaking his head “no.”

  “You have to get out of here for a while. I can't trust you alone in the building and this quarter’s meeting is vital for the next stage of development.”

  “I can be very impressive,” she began to promise, widening her eyes to indicate her absolute sincerity. “I will follow your lead and I won’t go rogue like last time.”

  “That’s not even remotely believable!” Merrick snapped. “You argue all the time. Your sarcasm is not as charming as you think.” He stopped, took a breath and ended it in a tired sigh. “It's only for a few days. And I can't protect you if you're here.”

  Lydia straightened and closed her mouth.

  Merrick's jaw clenched and tension increased in his neck. “I need you, Lydia.” He pressed his lips together and took another deep breath. His eyes dropped to the floor as if holding her gaze was too heavy for the moment. “You're the future of this company. You know it, I know it. Your ideas and your discoveries are... everything.”

  “And you don't think Houston will play ball with me yet.” It was a conversation they'd had a lot. Except it was normally in a more private locale and with snacks.

  Merrick ran a hand through his hair and ended on the back of his neck where he squeezed. “Don't use sports analogies. You're not very good at them.”

  “Why not?” She shrugged. “You mention balls a few times in a conversation and everyone mysteriously understands what you're saying.”

  Merrick's eyes closed; a ghost of a smile graced his lips.

  At least there was that. Maybe she couldn't make him laugh anymore. But she could almost make him smile.

  “Please, Lydia...” He forced a smile that matched the tiredness he tried to hide in his eyes. “You know... dammit, you know how huge this week is for me.”

  She did know.

  She knew better than anyone at the Institute. Because she had been an integral part of the dream building when it had all started five years ago.

  Though none of her co-workers knew she and Merrick went that far back. Everyone was under the assumption the first they'd met was when she had been hired a year and half ago.

  She took a deep breath and held it in her chest, letting the pain and brilliance wash through her from heart to hair.

  Sometimes her past and its history would catch up to her. She didn’t mind having scars.

  But occasionally she would have to look at ones she’d left on someone else…

  She minded it then.

  “Okay, Merrick,” she said quietly.

  In that moment, going to the greenhouse for the week became an easy decision to accept. She owed him. More than she could ever repay.

  Because while she wished she was the type of person who would do anything for him, she wasn't.

  But she could do this.

  He smiled faintly, accepting her agreement without rubbing it in her face.

  Yeah, he could be an ass without trying. But he wasn’t a complete dick.

  Lydia stood up, resigned to her fate. “Would you like me to call the temp agency to have someone fill in for me this week?”

  He nodded once. “Please.”

  She excused herself to her desk out front, closing Merrick’s double doors behind her.

  Damn, damn, double damn.

  This wasn’t anyone else’s fault but hers. She kept trying to do a job that wasn’t hers. She was not the CEO of Jones Botanical Research Institute. She was his secretary.

  It didn’t matter than she could do all the work of everyone in the building without breaking a sweat and still find time to write comprehensive and detailed reports for publishing in numerous journals.

  She didn’t have the credentials to back any of it up.

  Which was a choice she’d made all on her own.

  She sat down at the desk and tucked her hair behind her ears. It was a choice she refused to regret.

  “Hard day already?”

  Lydia didn’t stop the glower that took over her face. Nor would she have tried if she had been in a better mood. She ground her back molars together and lifted just her eyes to the man sitting on the two-person couch.

  Lydia’s outer office was longer than it was wide. The initial entrance from the hall had a long couch, a short couch, and two arm chairs sitting in a semi-circle around a coffee table—probably twelve feet from her desk.

  It was a place to wait. But was rarely used because Merrick liked to take his meetings in other locations. He didn’t like to be chained to a room. Often, he was difficult to find because he walked throughout the building, visiting every single inch of the place daily.

  But there was one person who used the waiting area often.

  Remington Patrick Rohan.

  His name was badass.

  And Lydia absolutely could not stand him.

  While Merrick was an ass a lot of the time but not 100% a dick, Remington Rohan was.

  And for some reason, he had everyone else in the world fooled. In fact, she was surprised there weren’t several members of the staff loitering around the office door. Every time he was in the building, both men and women lost their ever-loving minds—big moon eyes, hanging on his every word like each one was made of gold.

  Yes, he was good looking.

  Criminally attractive in a very pretty way.

  As if Theo James and Liam Hemsworth had a love child. That was Remington Rohan.

  He was tall, several inches over six feet, athletic frame, broad shoulders, skin that was perpetually gold from being in the sun, light brown almost blond hair. Lean, tight muscles. Muscles that he used and used and used. Definitely less than 10% body fat.

  His face was a perfect rectangle, with a jaw that was sharp and just wide enough to cause a scene. With his chin tapering down in the perfect proportion to the rest of his face, balancing the rectangle shape so he didn’t look boxy at all. Often the lower half of his face was covered in a thick dark beard with just the slightest hint of red in it.

  His lips were too big for most men. The bottom lip was easily twice as big as the top. Full and pouty, with a constant and steady smirk attached. That, along with his dark brown eyes and lush black lashes, irritated Lydia to no end.

  But his words were what often gave her a headache.

  “C’mon, Lydia, don’t make that face. I know you missed our weekly chats.”

  She’d had a lovely break from him for about a month. Not that she was listening around the water cooler, but she’d heard in passing he’d be
en traveling for work. Part of her was hoping he’d move on, make a new friend and leave Merrick alone.

  But he was back.

  And today of all days. When she was already annoyed with herself.

  She took a deep breath and sighed loudly as she woke up her computer. She ignored him as he unfolded his long body and swaggered to the edge of her desk.

  Yes, he was a former Marine sniper.

  And a successful entrepreneur.

  A published model.

  A highly sought after business strategist.

  A public speaker, life coach, and self-help guru with a wave of followers who believed he was God’s gift.

  And Lydia was probably the only person in the world who disliked him.

  But she suspected the feeling was mutual.

  “I had forgotten about you to be honest,” she said, still not looking right at him.

  It made her feel like a chicken shit, but he was insanely attractive. And her brain had always loved beautiful things. So instead of turning into a swoony fangirl (like she’d seen so many level-headed and highly educated scientists she respected in the building do around him), she kept her eyes on her work. Or looked at his chest if she needed to address him directly.

  It also helped to picture him as Hans Gruber from Die Hard.

  Handsome and charming, but ultimately the bad guy.

  Remington helped himself to a dark chocolate candy from the dish on her desk. She ground her teeth together a little more than necessary.

  “Can I help you with something?” she asked, forcing herself to be polite.

  “You’re so tense, Lydia. You know…”

  The way he drew his sentence out had her bracing.

  “I would love to help you with that.” His words dripped with innuendo.

  Her eyes narrowed and she made the mistake of looking at his face. He met her gaze with a relaxed and crooked smile. Those brown eyes alive with mischief and amusement.

  He fucking loved to mess with her. Merrick had told her time and again to stop rising to the bait. To let it go and ignore him.

  “Gross,” she said flatly, blinking once.

  His smirk twitched as he tisked. “That’s so inappropriate. You know I was talking about a nutritional cleanse.” He made a show of looking around her desk. “I’ve left you some information before.”