“I had a good time tonight,” Riley said. “Trust me, most people on campus come up with far less creative ways to have fun. You’ve got some good friends.”
“Some of the best.” Despite Trev’s and A. J.’s antics.
I twisted my arms behind my back and one leg over the other. I was even more tongue-tied, but I had to ask. “What were you thinking about? At the fire?”
Riley stared at the ground. A passing car’s bass filled the silence.
“I was thinking that you are a very unique girl, Emma Matthews.” He closed the distance between us. “You don’t even realize how you view the world, do you? Like an artist. You should trust that more. It’s inspiring.”
Me? He was joking, right? “You’re the artist, Riley.” The one whose music stirred things in me I’d suppressed after losing Dad. Creativity, dreams, desire. Things I started to crave again. “Maybe . . .”
Two pixie-like girls purposefully swayed their hips as they sauntered by Riley. Not that he noticed. He inched closer, eyes locked on mine. “Maybe what?”
Breathe. “Maybe you could play . . . for me . . . sometime?”
My pulse throbbed in his pause. My clammy hands lost their grip around my elbows. “Riley Preston doesn’t date.” Neither did I. What was I doing? Stupid. I never should have—
“I’d like that,” he said.
He would?
The smoky campfire scent clung to him, absorbing every other thought.
The corner of his mouth slanted. “On one condition.”
chapter eight
Liability
My breath caught the same way it had the first day I saw him. Except this time, he didn’t keep passing to free me to breathe again. His eyes held on. Consuming. I leaned against the hood of the car to steady my balance. And my nerves. “What condition?”
He lowered his head, scuffed the sidewalk divider with his shoe. The streetlight’s glare fell over the curve of a grin. “I’ll share my music if you promise to let me hear some of yours.”
My hand slid off the hood. He couldn’t be serious.
The door hinge creaked in place of the response locked up somewhere inside my ribcage. He stepped into the driver’s side and smiled over the top of the car. “Night, Emma.”
I stood on the curb, every muscle frozen in place, like a statue glowing in the fading trail of his taillights. Play? In front of him? No way. What was I thinking asking him that?
Stars strained to bleed through the charcoal-gray clouds. At some point along the ride home, the sky had lost its clarity, and I’d obviously lost my sense. I should’ve stayed home tonight, studied—not tried to be a social butterfly like Austin wanted. And definitely not at the expense of letting some impulsive notion get the best of me.
I trudged toward the stoop without looking past the square inch beyond my footsteps. Someone appeared from the shadows. I jumped two feet back, gasped.
“Whoa, it’s okay, Em. It’s just me,” A. J. said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sorry.” I eased up the sidewalk. “I thought everyone already went home.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the backs of his fingers over his five o’clock shadow. “I started to head to my place but wanted to make sure you were all right first, after the fall and everything. Tonight, you seemed . . . I don’t know, off.”
Off. Yeah, that’s exactly what I was. Thrown off balance. What else would I expect after letting my heart lead instead of my head?
“I’m fine, A. J. Really.”
He dipped his chin. “I didn’t know unsteady fit into the fine category.”
Unsteady? I squared my feet. “Think I can manage standing on level ground.”
A. J. edged closer, backing me into the door until my shoulders pressed against the cool glass. “Sure about that?”
The buzz of the streetlight vibrated across the sidewalk. He wasn’t going to kiss me, was he? My mouth went dry, squelching any remote chance of finding my voice again. I pressed a palm to his chest. The corner of his lips flirted with satisfaction. I dropped my hand before he misinterpreted, but he tucked a finger under my chin.
“A. J.”
He paused, face crinkling, then winked. “See you around, Rosy.”
The air in my lungs oozed out as he swaggered down the sidewalk to his car. So maybe A. J.’s advances were more than testosterone wars, which meant I needed to set him straight. And fast. No point in him hoping for anything more than friendship.
Just like I shouldn’t with Riley. I banged my fist to my forehead. What was wrong with me? I dug my cell from my pocket and called the one person who could level me out again.
“There’s this little thing called sleep, Em. Ever heard of it? It’s what normal people do at this time of night.”
“I wouldn’t exactly classify you as normal, Austin. And don’t act like you don’t have a venti Starbucks cup sitting next to you right now.”
“Guilty,” he said after an exaggerated gulp. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night call?”
Despite his teasing, I grappled for an honest answer. “I was thinking about Dad tonight. Remember those crazy teepee fires he made at Uncle Rick’s?”
“Yeah. But, I don’t know, I think his real talent was keeping Mom from making him put them out. Gotta give the man some bonus points for those saves.”
I laughed. “Poor Mom. She didn’t stand a chance against Dad’s charm.”
“Guess that’s what happens when you’re in love,” Austin said with an audible shrug.
His comment sank into my chest and wavered inside a chasm separating dreams and reality. I’d grown up watching our parents share the kind of love that’d made me believe in happily ever after. Until Dad died.
I picked at a scratch in the metal door handle. “Do you think it’s pointless to search for that kind of love?”
“So, that’s what this late night call is about. Giving up already? Thought you banned fairy tales for good.”
“I have, but . . . stop avoiding my question.”
“Look who’s talking.”
He was lucky his laugh reminded me so much of Dad’s.
“I have enough stress in my life without worrying about chasing after love. Besides, if I ever need a little drama, I have a kid sister I can call.”
“Hilarious, Aust.” The joke that never got old. He and Trev could have their own standup act. “Are you ever serious?”
“Occasionally. For real, though, I don’t think that kind of love is something you have to search for. When you’re ready, it’ll find you. Just give it some time.”
“Seems risky though, doesn’t it?”
“What? Waiting?” he asked.
“No, hoping. Mom and Dad were lucky enough to find each other, but now he’s gone.”
My last word hung in Austin’s pause.
“Some risks are worth taking.”
Spoken like Dad. Wished I could believe them both.
“Love you, Aust.”
“Love you too. Now you better get to sleep before Jaycee starts thinking I’m a bad influence on you.”
“Think it’s a tad late for that one.”
A caffeine-amped snicker ended our call. I pocketed my phone and pressed my forehead to the door. As smart as he was, why couldn’t he see he was wrong? Hope was a liability. A costly one I’d learned to outplay. Nothing had changed. Tonight was the perfect example of why I vowed not to put any faith in love.
And the exact reason why I was failing.
chapter nine
Uncomplicated
With last night shoved in a back drawer of my mind, day one of my internship at Xander took the forefront. Unemotional computers, people busy at their cubicles, lists, instructions, tasks. This was sensible. The way things were supposed to be.
I rolled my chair up to my triangular-shaped desk and resituated my stapler and tape dispenser. A quick shake of my mouse stirred the computer monitor back to life. I tightened my ponytail. See, this was my elem
ent. Simple workspace. No charming guys or romantic notions complicating matters. Just black and white, measurable work.
The clock on my PC announced the end of my lunch break. I aligned my training manual beside a yellow legal pad, then swapped the two, set a pencil on top of the binder, and drummed my fingers over my speckled laminate desktop.
The ceiling vent blew ice-cold air tainted with a burnt coffee stench directly onto my shoulders and hovered inside my tiny cubicle’s gray felt walls. Why hadn’t I thought to bring a sweater? And what was the deal with this annoying restlessness? I’d already soared through the morning training. I should have eased right in with everyone else by now. This was what I’d prepared for, what I was good at. Why did I feel out of step?
Jack Peters’ secretary, Renee, peeked over the partition wall. Peppered hair topped a round face with curved wrinkles rippling around the sagging corners of her mouth. “Relax. You’re doing great, honey. No need to be all uptight.”
I slumped my shoulders a little. “Better?”
She let out a raspy laugh. “It’s a start.”
“Sorry. Just want to make a good impression, I guess.”
“You already are, deary.” She rolled in a chair beside me. “Now, where’d we leave off?”
I thumbed through the binder to the flagged page headed “Financial Reporting and Control” and felt the blood drain from my face. “Um, Renee, I’ve only had one class on interpreting financial reports.”
She retrieved a giant stack of papers from the overhead shelf and plopped them next to my adding machine. “That’s what practice is for.” She lifted up the red-hued reading glasses chained around her neck. “These are all past statements that’ve already been reviewed. Jack wants you to study the first half along with the notes he included. Then you’ll provide your own analysis on the second half.”
My own analysis? Either the cubicle just shrank a size, or the air cut off. Maybe I didn’t need that sweater after all.
Renee lowered her glasses to her floral-patterned blouse. Even though I’d just met her, she held a sort of mother-hen look toward me. “Trust your training, honey. If you walk away with anything, remember that.”
A man craned his neck around the cubicle opening, something apparently catching his eye. He backed up and stepped inside. Skinny tie, Italian-looking suit, gelled hair, not a whisker in sight. Seemed kind of young to be the boss, but everything in his demeanor screamed confidence, including the unabashed stare fixed on me.
“Renee told me she was impressed with you. Seems she left out a few details.”
What was that supposed to mean?
Renee coughed as she swiveled her chair toward the desk.
“Jack Peters.” He extended a hand. “Sorry for the late intro. I was tied up in meetings this morning. Renee tells me you’re picking things up faster than she anticipated.”
I straightened the stack of reports. “I think she might be a tad on the gracious side.”
“I doubt that. You don’t earn your kind of grades by relying on grace.” He stretched an arm over the partition. His oversized silver watch rapped against the aluminum molding. “The same principles apply here. Push hard, find ways to make the boss look good, ace your performance reviews, and reap the benefits.”
At least someone understood how things worked. “Uncomplicated,” I said. “That’s the way I like it.”
He slanted a brow. “My kinda girl.”
Renee swung around and bumped Jack’s knee with the training binder on her lap. “We should probably get back to training, then.”
He wiped off his pant leg. “Think I’ll take it from here, Renee. Thank you.”
She didn’t move at first. He cocked his head, and she skirted past him on her way to her own desk, mumbling something undecipherable.
Jack took her spot in the chair beside me and ran his hand down his silky tie. “Okay, show me what you got.”
“Excuse me?”
Flaunting a devilish grin, he motioned to the stack of reports without ungluing his gaze from mine. “Profit Loss statements.”
Right. What happened to that air conditioning? “Do you mind if I get a drink of water before we get started?”
“Be my guest.” He swept his arm toward the hall. “Actually, why don’t you grab that and meet me in my office instead. It’s less distracting in there.” He stood in the opening so I had to squeeze by him. “Sometimes you need a little privacy if you want to make any real progress.”
The floor of clustered cubicles sandwiched beside each other suddenly felt like an open courtyard compared to the privacy of an office’s closed walls. At least they were see-through.
I hunched over the water fountain and tapped my fingers against the chrome base. What was with the whole Suits routine? Did he think this was some USA drama series where he’d pick up the naïve girl hoping for kickbacks?
Or was I over-reading his signals? Wouldn’t be the first time. Surely, he was a professional. Either way, he’d find out I could hold my own. I pushed off the fountain.
A guy, who looked young enough to have been interning from high school, rolled a cart out of a cluttered room. “If we add any more junk in there, it’s going to turn into Hogwarts’ room of requirement.” He swept his Bieber hair from his face, snickering over something that must’ve been an inside joke.
I peered through the windowed panel on the door. Dozens of monitors, towers, and keyboards filled the room like some kind of forgotten computer graveyard. “They’re not usable anymore?”
“Usable? Yeah, I guess. If you don’t care about things like HD graphics. But who wants to wait on slower frame rates when you can get the latest Intel Core chip?”
How old was this kid, and what language was he speaking? I waved it off, pretending to have a clue what he was talking about. “Yeah, totally.” I peeked in the room again. “Seems a waste though.”
“Welcome to the non-stop evolution of technology.” With a quick shrug, Shaggy-Haired Boy steered his cart toward the elevator.
The company wouldn’t toss all that hardware because it was a little out of date, would it? Or maybe that was the way most things worked. Always those who got discarded, value discounted. Well, I wasn’t about to be one of them. I’d prove I was an asset worth keeping. This internship was the goal I’d trained for. One that should satisfy Mr. Oakly. And me.
My forehead landed on the doorframe. So, why did that goal feel as meaningless as this overlooked room full of abandoned computers?
The air conditioning kicked in again along with a reminder of Riley’s comment. “You don’t even realize how you view the world, do you? Like an artist. You should trust that more.” Except I didn’t know what to trust anymore.
chapter ten
Runaway
“Thanks for letting me borrow your car.” I dropped Jaycee’s keys in front of her on the table and trekked to the kitchen.
She swallowed a bite of a ham, egg, and cheese sandwich. “How’d it go?”
Aside from an awkward one-on-one session with a boss who kept his eyes on me longer than on the computer? At least he’d kept his hands off. Other than that one brush against my knee. I was probably blowing it out of proportion. The last thing I needed was for my boss to think I was some inexperienced schoolgirl, trigger-happy on making accusations.
I tugged two cabinet doors open. “The way it’s supposed to.” Work’s work. You train, you produce, you earn respect. Just as I’d been expecting.
The near-empty fridge glared at me. Why was there nothing to eat? I flipped around, tossed my head back against the freezer door, and stared at the flat white ceiling.
Cereal would suffice. Uncomplicated cereal.
I plopped in the chair across from Jaycee, swiped a banana from the fruit bowl, and ripped it open a corner at a time. I didn’t need a lot of pizzazz to be satisfied. A little banana with my Cheerios was enough, just like this position. I was fine with my plan. Fine with aiming for a lucrative job. So, the internshi
p lacked potential for fulfillment. That was a luxury anyway. As long as I could take care of myself. That was what mattered. What I was on target for.
Until I met Riley.
I slapped the empty peel on the placemat. Why did he have to unbury things better left alone?
Jaycee’s stare joined the fluorescent light boring into me from the ceiling fixture.
I dropped my spoon into my bowl. Milk splashed across the Formica tabletop. “What?”
She lowered a piece of her mangled bagel sandwich onto her napkin. “I warned you not to get all uptight when I was probing.”
“Jae, you haven’t even said anything. You’re just” —I waved between us— “staring.”
“I was reading your thoughts.” She swirled her cup of coffee, releasing hints of caramel and intuition into the air. “It’s easy to interpret people’s thoughts when they don’t think anybody’s paying attention.”
“Oh really?” I slumped back in my chair. “And what exactly do my thoughts tell you?” This should be good.
She pinched off another piece of bagel and rolled it into a tiny ball. “That you’re already in too deep.”
“Is that some cryptic message only mind readers understand?” I shrugged off her psychoanalysis and resumed my cereal eating, but my intentional slurping couldn’t drown out her silent response.
My spoon clinked against the Corelle bowl again. “Fine, hit me with it. What have I gotten myself too deeply into now?”
“You asked me to help you not to rush with Riley, remember?”
That was what she was worried about? “Jae, relax. There’s nothing to rush into. Riley and I are just friends.” I shoveled in another bite of my now-mushy Cheerios, which was about as hard to swallow as my comment.
She pinned her arms over her V-neck sweater. “Just friends, huh? I don’t see you brooding over me.”
“I’m not brooding.” Okay, maybe a little.
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