Butterflies in Honey (Growing Pains #3)

by K. F. Breene

  Georgie laughed as Sean snorted.

  “Well,” Georgie said, “You two are holding up well. I’ve had to work with an ex before. It was torture. You guys work really well together. I’m surprised.”

  “Honestly, it is torture,” Krista said quietly. Sean looked at her in surprise. “But Sean treats me like a person, whereas the rest of this company—well, you’ve been on the ‘I hate women’ bandwagon yourself, so you know.”

  Georgie looked mollified. “Yeah, sorry about that. Change is tough. It’s no excuse, but I did legitimately think you were schtooping the boss to get where you are. You have risen really fast.”

  “It would be Tory that I was schtooping,” Krista said, “He’s the one responsible for my promotions. And if that were true, Emily would have assassinated me by now.”

  Georgie huffed. “I looked through your packets. Bob thinks Sean is doing the work. I know better. That ain’t Sean’s style. He might make the deadlines further out, but not do it himself.”

  Sean, who was silent up until then, finally spoke up, “So what you’re saying is, she must have done it herself because I’m too lazy?”

  Georgie and Krista both laughed and said, “Exactly!” at the same time.

  “But here’s what I don’t get, since it’s on the table,” Georgie said as they walked through the hotel door, “Krista was working for our company for a while before you showed up, Sean. Then you show up as a VP. Doesn’t make any sense.” Georgie glanced at each of them, must have seen a blank look, then continued, “What I mean is, if you broke it off, Sean, then you would’ve been glad she moved away. If you didn’t, then you obviously wanted her back. But, and correct me if I’m wrong Krista, but showing up as her boss as a big surprise isn’t really the greatest approach. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah,” Krista said lightly, desperately wanting to talk about something else, “and you think women are crazy?”

  “We didn’t plan to split,” Sean said seriously. “She had to move for other reasons. I showed up thinking she would be happy to see me.” The way he said it, it was obvious he realized it was a big error.

  “You’re young, Sean,” Georgie said with a grin and a shake of his head. “You don’t act it in business, but now it’s sure showin’. Wrong way to go, man! Even I knew that, and according to my wife, I do everything wrong.” Georgie clapped Sean on the back. “They don’t think like us, man—no offense, Krista, but I think you’ll agree. Once you wrong a woman, beware. They’ll skin you alive. Might cry over your pain and nurse you back to health after, but they’ll take you to the cleaners as sure as I’m standing here. You should have begged for forgiveness for being born before you showed up unannounced.”

  “Wise man, Georgie,” Krista said. “But beware yourself. I don’t like hearing my personal business on the lips of strangers.”

  Georgie put up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m no dummy. I see the way the winds are blowing. You have high powered friends. I’m not crossing those lines.”

  The ref led everyone through the lobby, past the banquet halls, and into a courtyard out the side of the hotel. It was still technically indoors since there was a glass ceiling and partially glassed walls—it looked like a large greenhouse—but the floor was cobblestone. It was probably a place that held weddings in the heat—it had both air conditioning and sun.

  Along the wall shared with the hotel were a row of tanks with a target off to the side of each. They were dunk tanks.

  Krista felt a tingle go up her back. She’d just proved she was the least helpful when it came to throwing balls…it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was supposed to go in the tank.

  Her pink bra might make a showing after all. It was the worst news all day—which was actually okay. Georgie had come around. So had Donald. People could know that her bra was pink if it meant they would also end up knowing she was legitimate.

  Still, it sucked.

  “Okay,” Sean said, forming a circle with the region. “I’ll do the dunk tank. It’s a bad position to be in, so I’ll take that responsibility.”

  “Except that we need the points and Krista won’t get us any,” Bob scowled as he looked at the tanks.

  Sean’s eyes got hard. “Krista will try her best, which is what I expect of all of you. I will do the tank.”

  “’Cause she’s a girl?” Dean asked quietly. He wouldn’t meet Sean’s eyes.

  “No, it’s not…”

  “Damn it!” Krista said testily, talking over Sean. “Fine, I’ll do the dunk. I can’t throw as well as any of you—we all know this. I’ll miss the target. So I might as well get dunked. Everyone wants to throw crap at me anyway.”

  Everyone nodded before Sean said, “I’m the VP, Krista, I’ll do the dunk. That’s final.” Sean sounded hostile. All the other men looked down with varying stages of unhappiness.

  “Don’t be a ninny, Sean,” Krista replied in a huff, starting toward the tank. “You and Georgie have the best arms. I have no arm. We have $500 riding on this, remember? At least my bra is new. You all owe me a new shirt, though.”

  Sean grabbed Krista’s arm and whipped her back. His eyes were burning and he was livid. “Krista, no. Young, hot girl is not what we are going for with you. You are a viable member of this team. You don’t need to be on display.”

  Behind Sean, the rest of L.A.’s managers looked up with wide eyes. Sean rarely lost his cool, and he very rarely raised his voice. This time he was doing both, not to mention physically handling a co-worker. It wasn’t smart for a million reasons, least of all that she could sue and biggest of all that she could get weighted down in the past and have an episode.

  Thankfully, though, Krista was locked firmly in the present. And she was held there by anger.

  “You are forgetting yourself, Sean McAdams.” Her voice was ice. It cut through his haze like a razor blade. “As a viable member of this team, I can see that the best strategy for our group as a whole would be to swallow my pride and sit in that dunk tank. The other members of your team have identified, and pointed out, that fact. As our leader, I would hope you would put aside your personal interference and recognize that. And please get your hand off of my arm.”

  Sean didn’t move for a beat, his eyes boring into hers. Finally, his hand loosened and let go, but his eyes were on fire. Krista stared at him a moment longer, then turned and walked to the tank. Her back was loose and she was partially smiling. She didn’t want anyone to think she wasn’t okay with the decision. It would suck, but so be it.

  A guy helped her in to the warm, humid tank. She sat on the hard plastic seat hanging over clear water. Down the line the other guys were also getting helped in, with some not fitting onto the seat all that well. It looked like all the VPs were taking the seats. All the VPs and the girl.

  Sean stared at Krista for a moment longer. She took that moment to say, “If you guys miss one single shot, I will personally kill you!”

  Georgie saluted with a smile and Donald’s eyebrows dipped in concentration as they all got in line behind the next tank over. Knowing Donald, he actually thought she was serious. The other two snickered at her—bastards.

  The ref rang the bell, and the first shots were taken. In front of Krista was a guy in his late thirties with obviously died black hair. Krista figured that since she had to sit the tank, it was okay for her to start talking smack.

  “Good thing you weren’t sitting the tank! You’d dye the water black!” She called.

  The guy had been taking aim when he looked up in surprise. He looked around, apparently not sure if the manikin had just come to life and started talking. To him!

  “Yeah, I’m talking to you, big hitter. C’mon, let’s see what you got, big shot, before your hair fades.”

  His team started laughing and Krista’s team looked over. Bob had a big grin on his face. It occurred to Krista she might get in trouble for this. It also occurred to her that she didn’t give a crap. They would have to tread lightly with her i
n the best of situations because she was the only female in an obviously male-dominated environment. Sexual harassment charges could merely be mentioned and she would tear the place apart. She wouldn’t do that because she had ethics, but they didn’t know that.

  The guy took aim again, but Krista could see he was visibly shaken. “Let’s go Vidal Sassoon, I haven’t got all day.”

  Without looking up, he threw the ball hurriedly and missed.

  Krista breathed a sigh before she said, “Better luck next time.”

  The next man up was tall and thin with jeans that barely reached his ankles.

  “How’s Sleepy Hollow this time of year, Ichabod?” Krista asked loudly.

  The man had a lopsided grin and shook his head. He took aim.

  “You expecting a flood, or are ankle-highs the fashion in your neck of the woods?”

  He threw and missed, but it was close.

  “Phew!” Krista said out loud. “Close. ‘O’ for two. Next up, Ren and Stumpy. C’mon Pigmy, show us what you’ve got!”

  The short man took aim quickly and threw. Krista barely got a breath to yell something else when she was falling! She hit the water with a splash and came up sputtering. Their team was cheering and slapping high-fives.

  “Good work, short stack,” Krista yelled as she climbed out of the water. She sat with a splat onto the righted plastic seat. She wiped her face with her hands, then wrung out her shirt. The pink bra was finally making an appearance. The region of men in front of her noticed, and were now looking at her with surprise and shock. The tall man pointed.

  “What, your wives don’t dress up for you anymore?” Krista asked loudly.

  Other groups down the way turned and looked. Sean’s face was tight, his jaw clenched. Everyone else was laughing.

  Krista started hearing other dunk-tankers talking smack. It wasn’t long before that was the name of the game. They couldn’t match Krista for reckless crowd pleasing, though. It got to the point that everyone was waiting to hear how she would harass someone before they would throw their own ball into their various lines.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sean was one of the men that listened, but he didn’t stop to hear what she had to say, he stopped to hear how she said it. He could tell she was embarrassed and feeling vulnerable. As well she should—she was basically flashing a bunch of guys she was convinced hated her. It was not an optimal situation. But she was making the best of it, and she was slowly but surely winning people over. She was courageous, and everyone saw it whether she wanted them to or not.

  He just wished it didn’t have to be this that showed it.

  “Sean, you’re up,” Georgie said, tapping his shoulder.

  Sean tore his eyes away from Krista, currently picking on an embarrassed Jeff from Texas, and looked ahead of him at Ron from New York, who was smiling back.

  “I see you have a woman doing your job for you?” Ron said conversationally.

  Ouch.

  Sean smiled. “Hard to say no when she gets her temper up.”

  “That’s for sure,” Georgie muttered behind Sean.

  “You let women push you around?” Ron said with a confident smirk.

  “When she outthinks me, every day of the week. But then, unlike you…” Sean wound up, “I’m open-minded.” He threw a bull’s-eyes.

  Ron went down with a splash and came up sputtering.

  “We’ll see, McAdams,” Ron said, heaving himself onto his seat. “We’ll see if she can keep her head above water.”

  Sean clenched his jaw then forced himself to smile. He tilted his head and walked to the back of the line, checking on Krista again. If she could rise above these idiots, she would prove them all wrong and Sean right. Rising above, though, that was the kicker.

  ~*~*~*~

  Krista was dunked time and again, but they missed as often as they hit. Some guys stood nervously in front of her, scared what she would say in front of his peers. They were the ones that often rushed their throws and missed. Some were pissed and trying not to show it. They often missed, too. It was the guys having a good time, probably used to sports and smack talk, that hit her every time. Occasionally, they had back talk, which was actually as funny as it was fun. Most often, she heard that her shirt was drying, so she needed to get swimming. That was all most of them could focus on. Not a real imaginative crew, but then, they were men—they never were imaginative where boobs were concerned.

  That was, until Blake came up.

  “Hey, Miss Krista,” he called languidly.

  “Hey, Blake. You know, I had a pony named Blake once. It was senile. We had to put it down. Your mom a fan of ponies?”

  “That’s a pretty bra,” he called, tossing the ball up and catching it in his hand. “I would rather see it on my floor.”

  For the second time that day, Krista got the tingling in the base of her spine. That was uncalled for and way across the line. The guys standing behind him snickered, jumping on the “she’s an object” train like they’d been waiting for someone to mention it. The two regions next to them heard and were looking over, some with shock and some with leery grins.

  It was here that Krista knew she would win or lose. She would go down as one of two things: a female singled out for her tits and ass, or a woman who could hold her own.

  She embodied Jasmine’s sure, dry humor when she said, “You would rather see it on your floor? Or have me discard it so you can try it on? Oh hey, you know what? I have some heels that match! You want to add those to your list of cross-dressing items?”

  She was smiling and laughing, making fun of him. She couldn’t let them see how badly she was withering on the inside. He had hit too close to her insecurity in this male dominated setting. He was aiming for her weakness, and she couldn’t let him know—any of them know—he hit the mark.

  “Wouldn’t fit,” Blake said as he got ready to throw.

  “Oh!” Krista talked to the men behind Blake, suddenly not looking so sure. “You guys, Blake already knows his size in women’s lingerie!”

  A couple of the guys snickered. One looked uncomfortable and the last lost interest. That was good news.

  Blake threw the ball, no longer smiling. It went wide and nicked off the bulls eye. Krista stayed up on her seat as the target shook. “Well, now—“ and then she was falling.

  “Damn it!” she laughed when she came up. “Almost got you!”

  She wiped water from her eyes, and then sensing Blake was gearing up for redemption—and judging by his serious face, it wasn’t something she wanted voiced—she asked the general crowd, “Is my makeup running?”

  As expected, all guys in earshot looked at her like they would their wives. Any committed man couldn’t help himself—any woman that wore makeup would ask that question at one time or other. Hilariously, they got all weirded out and kind of shuffled around, trying not to look at each other. Except for the couple of guys who were brow beat, or plain helpful, and actually told her where to wipe. Those few guys were made fun of immediately. Blake was left out entirely, losing most of his followers. He was obviously single, and therefore different and left out at that time.

  The last group that came up was Utah.

  “Utah?!” Krista said to everyone but the group in front of her. “Holy cow. Who’s watching your farms with all your wives?”

  Then she accidentally belched really loud. She got surprised looks.

  “And that was just water. Wait until I have a couple beers! This ain’t my first rodeo!”

  There was surprisingly a lot of laughter on that one. Which made sense. It was why football commercials celebrated the farting male—guys thought gross bodily issues were funny. Krista couldn’t explain it, but she’d just capitalized on it.

  The first two guys got her in the water. They were the only ones that did it out of the gate.

  “Utah!” she yelled in glee. “Your wives must have the same underwear. You’ve seen it all before!”

  Everyone laughed as she to
ok the hard plastic seat again.

  The next guy who came up was a giant, obese man. Way overweight. All the guys at the conference were a little–to-a lot overweight; their ages and status in life made that pretty common. This guy had a genetic problem, though. Krista could tell he thought she was going to pick on him for it. And most small-minded or unoriginal people would have. She got the impression, however, after looking at his shuffling feet and deflated stance, that he figured he was about to feel about two-feet tall. In other words, that she would make him feel exactly as she had been feeling the whole weekend, and especially throughout the dunk tank competition. It wasn’t hard to realize that it was below the belt.

  “What’s up, Moustache?” She called instead. “Don’t you know that only child molesters wear moustaches? And before you say anything, I am over eighteen!”

  The guy was obviously surprised when she said moustache. He started laughing and paused in his wind-up. It gave Krista more time to attack.

  “Look at those whiskers, boys! He’s trying to be Wyatt Earp over here!”

  He wound up, threw and missed.

  “It was because of the size of your moustache. It knocked you off-kilter!”

  A couple guys pointed and laughed at him, and he shook his head with a smile and stood off to the side with his fellow crew. She was laying it on thick, but he didn’t mind it in the least. It was probably a first for him, judging by his relieved body language.

  Krista kept going with the cat calls until everyone had gone. Finally, she was able to get down and out of the stupid tank. She felt sticky and awful. She was in desperate need of a shower and a change.

  L.A. Region was there to greet her.

  Georgie gave her a towel and she gratefully wrapped it around her chest.

  “How did you do?” she asked.

  Sean was still looking at her with hard eyes. He wanted to lay into her, it was clear. Thankfully, unlike the others, Donald didn’t notice.

  “You have missed hits on each of us once, except for George and Sean who didn’t miss any,” Donald relayed as if he was reading it off of a list in his head. “Overall, you were dunked 30% less than the others.”