Give and Take

by Lee Kilraine

  It was possible I was overreacting. I knew I had a knee-jerk reaction when someone reeked of alcohol. The smell of bourbon especially opened up places I kept buried, and it was like dumpster-diving through sludge when I fell into them. So maybe what I’d witnessed was simply the exact same quiet woman I’d met at the expo stepping up to fulfill her obligation to her client. In that case, it had been a demonstration of amazing professionalism and some very fast thinking.

  Yet, I sat at my desk, still replaying it all over again. I’d walked back into the party after checking on her story, and I remembered the laughter of the kids hitting my ears before I’d even turned the corner around the house. Giggles, squeals, and claps—and not all were from the kids. Rhia was doing some sort of pantomime with the children calling out guesses.

  Standing in Brian and Sarah’s backyard, I got a feeling of foreboding. That my reasoning of selecting Rhia as the applicant who’d blend quietly and seamlessly into our office was looking wrong. I’d totally misread Rhia at the expo. Because from what I’d seen at the party, the woman who I’d pegged for shy, quiet, and low-key was nothing of the kind.

  She told silly knock-knock jokes, sprinkled “magic dust,” and gathered the kids all back in a circle and spun some wild story about a rabbit. The children had hung on her every word. Next, she’d done a crazy dance that had them all laughing again. When she asked for a volunteer to dance with her, all the kids jumped up and joined in.

  Was it just me or had she been swinging her ass a bit too much with kids around? It was a nice ass. Very nice. Thank God she’d had my belt, or surely it wouldn’t have been a G-rated show.

  My gut clenched because I damn well couldn’t get rid of the vision of her kneeling in front of me. When I closed my eyes, I could still see her, her head tilted up as she begged Please? The sad fact was that image was burned into my brain. It had made it hard to fall asleep the last two nights.

  I’d almost gotten a fucking hard-on for a clown. Which was fucked up. I guess my brothers were right: I needed to get out more. I definitely needed to get laid. But getting laid was not on my agenda.

  Nope. I was going to focus on my goal of finishing all the parts of the ARE and become a fully licensed architect. I was going to think positive and hope my first impression of Rhia was the correct one. Either way, Rhia Hollis was not going to sidetrack me.

  My office door opened, and Beck walked in. He was on his phone, and his forehead wore that bunched up crease when he was in his I-can-solve-anything crisis mode.

  “Sam… Sam, listen to me, babe.” Beck held one finger up to me while he finished talking. “Don’t worry. Go ahead and talk with your insurance guy and call me back. We’ve already figured out a solution, right? No, Wyatt’s going to be fine. No, he won’t be mad at you. Don’t worry. Babe, we’ve got this. I promise Wyatt won’t be mad. Call me back when the insurance guy leaves. This’ll turn out fine.”

  Beck hung up, scraped a hand through his dirty-blond hair, and exhaled a loud breath.

  “Wyatt…” He wasn’t looking at me. In fact, he’d walked right past my desk and over to the large conference table in the middle of the room and started dragging it up against the far wall.

  “Beck?” I stood, moving around my desk, not liking what I was seeing. “What am I about to be mad at Sam for?”

  Before he answered, Eli and Gray entered carrying a desk between them. A white, feminine desk.

  “Whoa, wait.” I shook my head and moved quickly to block them from moving the desk farther into the room. “What’s going on? Whose desk is this, and why are you putting it in my office?”

  My answer breezed through the office door.

  “What a lovely office. And very spacious. Downright huge even.” Rhia Hollis sort of bounced in, energy and light personified. Between her auburn hair, her bright whatever-the-color-those pants were, and her happy, sparkling smile, she was a glowing, shiny object in my purposefully designed neutral office.

  It was like watching a butterfly flit around the stark canvas of my life as she walked around my office, casing the whole room. From the wide windows, to the bookshelves, even opening one of the two storage closets. She even inspected my desk, moving my task lamp over about three inches and running her fingers along the polished oak edge.

  “This is great. And it’ll be so much fun! Thank you, Wyatt.”

  Fun? Thank you, Wyatt? No. I didn’t sign up for this. It was bad enough we had to use my office for meetings, but this—this sharing an office with a talking rainbow…no.

  I gave her a nod when she turned her smile my way. Yeah, this wasn’t looking good. I shifted my gaze to my brother. “Uh…Beck? Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “Rhia! While Wyatt and Beck figure out the best configuration for your desks, let’s go get the first load of boxes from your car.” Gray moved quickly, taking her by the elbow to lead her from the room. And that had better not be a smirk on his face, although who was I kidding?

  Eli looked at me, frowned, and followed on their heels.

  “Seriously, Beck. What’s the deal?” I walked over to my desk and slid the lamp back where it belonged before moving over to the windows to look into the front parking lot at Gray and Rhia. “Shit. She’s got a bright orange floor lamp with feathers on the shade. You had better have a damn good reason for this or I quit.”

  “There was an electrical fire at Sam’s office last night.”

  “Oh, shit.” I whipped my head around to see Beck’s face. Beck and Sam had been dating for over six months, and all of us loved her. Loved that she’d gotten Beck to stop worrying so much and enjoy life. Of course, the fact that she helped save our company had been a sweet side benefit. “She and Margo are okay, right? I mean, you were just talking to Sam on the phone.”

  “Yeah.” Beck ran a shaky hand across his forehead. “Thank God it happened on a night they weren’t burning the midnight oil. The other good news is it wasn’t the main structure, so their actual office is fine. The fire started in the building they’d rented next to it for their new boutique.”

  “I’m glad they’re fine.” It could have been much worse. And my hands were a little shaky to think of that. “Why in the hell would Sam think I’d be mad at her?”

  “Because you’re going to have to share your office with Rhia,” Beck said.

  I’d already figured that out, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Eli walked in carrying the bright orange, feathered floor lamp, and I could guarantee I hated the idea.

  “You know I love Sam. I’d do anything for her, but answer me this—if her office is fine—why the office shuffle?” My gaze followed Gray as he walked in carrying posters of the pink and glittery variety. Which I could let Rhia know needed to go right back out to her car because I already had tasteful black-and-white photos of iconic buildings hanging on my office walls.

  “They were all set to move their inventory into the new addition and open it to the public. Between the fire and the water damage from the fire crew—it’ll be delayed. I told Sam she could move all her inventory into the extra office.” Beck hit me with his gaze, and I could see he was still shook up over the whole thing.

  Right. I needed to shut up and deal with it. For Sam and Beck, I could handle sharing my office for what, a few weeks? A month. “Any word from the fire inspector on how much damage yet? You know, how long it might take to get in there and rebuild?”

  “Not sure yet, but I’m heading over there now. I know this isn’t ideal. Sam told me to give you a hug for being such a sweetheart. Those were her words—not mine.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “There you go.”

  “Tell Sam I’m not mad,” I said.

  “He’s mad,” Gray said on his way in with another load of boxes.

  “I’m not mad, but just out of curiosity, what’s wrong with your office, Gray?” Everyone knew Gray was more outgoing
and friendlier than I was. He actually enjoyed talking and people. Thrived on it even. Unlike me.

  “No can do, Wy. I see more clients than everyone, since they come into my office to make their color and materials selections. Plus, honestly, you put me and an attractive woman in an office together on a long-term basis, and let’s just say, the fraternization rules will be out the window.”

  “I’m sorry, Gray, but if you’re talking about me, I’m afraid you’re not my type.” Rhia walked right by him, carrying a stack of vibrantly hued pillows. “Plus, I don’t get involved with men prettier than I am. Nothing personal, I just don’t like to fight for my time in the mirror each morning.”

  Eli laughed. Beck snickered. I would have grinned if I weren’t dealing with this new office arrangement.

  “Oooh, she’s good,” Gray said, turning to Rhia with a smile and a nod. “You’re good.”

  “Oh, Wyatt, I almost forgot!” Rhia rooted around a large yellow canvas purse hanging from her shoulder. “Aha! Here it is. Your belt. You rushed off and forgot it. Thanks, you know, for everything.”

  All my brothers froze, and all eyes focused on the belt in Rhia’s hand. My belt. Their eyes shot my way. Then their gazes whipped over to Rhia and then back to me.

  “Oh, whoa,” Rhia said with an awkward laugh. “This isn’t what it looks like. He didn’t—Wyatt didn’t—pffft, no. Your brother is a gentleman. Thanks to him, I kept my pants on.”

  “That’s our Wyatt. A human prophylactic.”

  “Oh, you’re a hoot, Gray.” I took my belt from Rhia, promising myself I’d never do a good deed for a damsel in distress again. Not when she was dressed in a clown suit and had aqua eyes I couldn’t say no to. Not with my brothers around.

  “I’m heading over to Sam’s to check out the damage while the insurance adjustor is with her. So… Are you good, Wyatt?” The sharp edge of stress in Beck’s voice was a sure sign there was only one correct answer here.

  “I’m good, Beck. We’ll make this work. Go help Sam.”

  He was out the door before I finished my sentence, leaving me with my new office-mate and a feeling of foreboding that life as I knew it was about to change.

  Chapter 6

  Rhia

  “I still can’t believe this. Wow. My own office.”

  Wyatt cleared his throat loudly from where he stood in the doorway.

  “Right. Not my own office, but still an office. I totally appreciate the sacrifice you’re making to share your office with me. I’ll try to stay out of your way, so you won’t even know I’m here. But, gosh, I’m still just so amazed that you and your brothers offered free office space for a year.”

  “We remember what it’s like to start a new business and simply wanted to reach out and help someone else. That’s all.” Wyatt’s gaze kept straying to my furniture and stacks of boxes. “You need any help getting set up?”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to take any more of your time. You go ahead and work. Just pretend I’m not here.” I glanced over my boxes and furniture with an eye toward where I wanted to put things. “I’ve been dreaming of an office for two months. This is going to be fun to set up.”

  Wyatt eyed my stuff one more time before settling in behind his desk. He rolled his shirtsleeves up his forearms and got to work.

  Okay, time to get to work myself. First, I checked the time as I plugged my phone charger into an outlet. It wasn’t that I was in a rush to get settled. But my stray kitten needed to be fed in about an hour. I’d marked the box with the kitten “FRAGILE! Do not shake, drop, or sit on!” just in case. So, I had an hour to get my desk situated enough to sneak the kitten into the bottom drawer before feeding time.

  Normally I’d play music to work to. Something fun like Maroon 5 or Stevie Wonder. But once glance at Wyatt’s serious face meant maybe my first day sharing his office would be a bad time. So, I rolled up my own sleeves—I wore my soft cotton, bubble gum pink, long-sleeved T-shirt with light yellow capri pants today on account of all the bending I’d be doing with my move in—and got busy.

  First up, I had to consider the angle of my desk. I could face the large windows. I loved the sunlight and the view. But I was easily distracted too. So not the window. It would be a good idea to face the door. You know, like a power position for when a client walked in. Yes, that could work.

  Moving over to my desk, I picked up one end and dragged and rotated it until it was facing the door. I rolled my chair behind it and sat down to test it. It felt good. I grabbed a pencil out of my purse and imagined I was working and a client walked in, looking up at the door.

  Why hello, Ms. Big-party-thrower. Wonderful to meet you. Please come in and sit down, so we can discuss your humongous gala event. Yes, I felt good about that angle. I could work with this. Or so I thought—until I turned my head to look at Wyatt. He noticed my turn of the head and lifted his eyes to mine, his eyebrows raised in question.

  I quickly turned away, so he wouldn’t think I was looking at him. Hmm. I dragged over the box with my brand-new file folders—a lovely shade of pale lavender I’d found on sale at the office supply store—and desk supplies, and looked busy until Wyatt was focused back on his computer.

  A few minutes later, I casually looked over at Wyatt, only to have his gaze lift up to mine again.

  “Yes?”

  As soon as his gaze hit mine, I kept turning my head past him and toward the window, so I could pretend I hadn’t been looking at him. I turned back to him to respond, making sure I blinked my eyes, trying to look like he was the one distracting me. Plausible deniability. “What?”

  “You were looking at me.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was looking out the window, but you just got in my way.” Sure, it was a fib, but I couldn’t get caught staring at him on our first day of sharing the office. Especially not before I’d unpacked all my stuff. It would be too easy for him to move me right back out. And the frown on his face suggested he might be thinking about it.

  Huh, what to do…because I had a feeling I’d be keeping an eye on Wyatt a lot in the beginning. Mostly so I could gauge how we were doing on our cohabitation. Although cohabit wasn’t correct, was it? It was more like a co-work-ittation. But no one had invented that word yet, so not quite that, either. The point was, facing the door directly wouldn’t work. Nope.

  I stood and grabbed the side of my desk, dragging and rotating it one more time.

  Wyatt sighed loud enough for me to hear it from across the room and over the scraping sound of the desk legs. “Need some help?”

  “No, thanks! I got it!” Because a sigh that loud meant I was probably interrupting his work. Which I was trying not to do. Once I got the desk repositioned, I scooted my chair back in place and sat to check it out.

  Picking up my pencil, I checked once again my power position, glancing up at the door to one of my future imaginary clients. Hello, Mr. Moneybags. Please come into my office and let me plan your very special occasion. It worked. Power position—check.

  I sneaked a glance over to Wyatt. Due to the new angle of my desk, I only had to shift my eyes to the left a bit, not actually turn my head. I looked away and then back again. No sign from Wyatt that he noticed. Okay. This would work too. My keep-an-eye-on Wyatt position—check.

  Next, I positioned the set of chairs I’d inherited as hand-me-downs from my Aunt Ester, setting them side-by-side in front of my desk. They were painted a pale pink with a slightly garish floral fabric for the seat cushions. Dated and not exactly my style, but with my start-up budget, I was repurposing wherever I could. Once I was showing a profit, I could rethink my office furniture. But for now, chairs for clients—check.

  Glancing around the office, I turned my eye to style and decorating. Wyatt’s office was all clean lines and neutral colors. By neutral, I meant it lacked any color whatsoever. The only thing saving it from dullness was a sizeable collection o
f beautiful handcrafted wood pieces—a sexy, sleek desk, the elegant yet masculine lines of his chair, the wooden pencil holder next to his computer screen, a matching trashcan sitting on the floor, and a few other pieces on the shelves behind him.

  “Wow, your wood furniture and knickknacks are gorgeous.” They were. I wasn’t trying to compliment him to soften him up. Much.

  “Thank you.” He kept typing away on his keyboard, not even sparing me a glance.

  “Are they from a local handcrafter?”

  “Yes.”

  I was learning Wyatt Thorne was a man of few words. But what was it my nona had always said? It was the quiet ones you had to look out for.

  “Excuse me, Wyatt. Sorry to interrupt your work… I respect the fact that this is your office, and know I’m only here temporarily, but I do need to have my office represent my company.” I gave him my friendliest smile and waited for a response.

  He quirked an eyebrow.

  “So, just throwing it out there, what would you say to painting the office a bright pink?”

  “I’d say no.”

  Of course he would, just as I’d figured. There was method to my madness. I started with horrible choices he’d hate in the hopes that by the time I got to my little changes—the ones I really wanted—he’d say yes, thinking how he’d dodged a bullet.

  “What about a bright pink accent wall?”

  “No.”

  “How about we leave the walls, but paint all the furniture in the office pink?”

  “Not while I’m breathing.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  “That’s a hell no.”

  “Okay, I respect that. The thing about sharing and cooperating is, you know, meeting on some middle ground. Just saying.” I wasn’t exactly sure if I’d scared him enough with possibilities that I could ask for what I really wanted. The stubbornness was strong in this one, and I didn’t have him where I needed him yet. “How about this: We leave the walls just as they are—the way you want—and I hang a set of fuchsia pink silk organza drapes on the windows, with a tiered ruffled hem?”