Spring Training

by KB Winters

  As I turned it over in my mind, Max looked up, caught me looking at him, and flashed a lopsided smile.

  My heart thawed a little, and I returned the smile. Maybe we could meet up after class and get a coffee or something. I needed the distraction so I didn’t sit around thinking about Grant and that kiss all afternoon.

  That kiss.

  God, it had been amazing. Better than any kiss I’d ever had before, times a million. His lips were perfect, warm and firm, but still soft at the same time. His scent was even more intoxicating from such close proximity and had taken the entire thing to another level of delirium. His hands were possessive, and he touched me in a way that told me he knew exactly what he wanted and which path he wanted to take to get there.

  I shivered at the memory and noticed my arms were covered in goosebumps. I licked my lips quickly and turned my attention back to the professor. She was wrapping up her lecture and yet the page before me was completely blank.

  Shit, Megan. Finals will be here in a month.

  I needed to get it together. Working with Grant was going to be a challenge. I had no idea how I was going to manage to keep things on a professional level after that kiss—the memory of which would probably be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. How could I be expected to sit next to him, speak to him, and collaborate with him if I was forced to look at those lips and remember how they felt on mine—and wonder what they would feel like if left to their own devices—on other parts of my body.

  The professor dismissed us while my mind was still distracted, and I ended up being the last to gather my bag and purse and stumble towards the exit of the classroom. When I stepped outside Max was waiting for me.

  “Hey,” he said, sidling up to me as I started in the direction of my car.

  “Hey, yourself. What’s going on?” I tried my best to keep my voice light and not let on the undercurrent of disappointment and hurt at the cold shoulder I’d received over the past few days.

  “Nothing much. I got behind in a couple of my classes, so I’ve been locked away in my room. This is kinda my first big venture out,” Max said with a smile in my direction.

  I relaxed a little at his explanation. Max was a double major and was taking more classes than I imagined being humanly possible. However, his excuse—valid as it may be—did not explain why Jeanine and Taylor had been MIA.

  We walked outside and stood at the curb. “How’re Jeanine and Taylor?” Max asked.

  I shrugged and was surprised to find my eyes stinging at the question—a question that I should know the answer to.

  Max looked down at me, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  I flicked away the start of a tear. “I haven’t heard from either of them since the night we all went to get burgers.”

  His eyebrows shot up and got lost in his hair. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed with a soft laugh. “I’ve known Jeanine for like, four years now, since we started school. I don’t get why she’s so pissed off. I have student loans too, ya know? And, if the tables were turned, I would have been happy for her. I mean, she didn’t even ask me anything about it.”

  Max wrapped an arm around my shoulders and I tried to let myself relax against him, but the contact felt strange. I’d known him for a little over a year, and we had hit it off from the beginning, but it had always been at a distance. I couldn’t remember him ever being physical with me before. I stepped out from under his arm and scanned the sidewalk, my mind suddenly back on Grant, and wondering what he would think if he saw me getting close with another guy. Obviously, he had no claim to me, the kiss had been a spark of insanity, nothing more—but still…there was something about him that told me he would have a problem to find me snuggled up to some other guy like that.

  “I’ll see if I can sort it out, Megan. Don’t worry about it,” Max said, and I was relieved that he didn’t seem offended that I’d brushed off his attempt at comfort.

  “Thanks Max.” I stepped off the curb and looked over my shoulder in the direction of my car, which was lost in a sea of shiny cars gleaming in the sunlight. “Call me or something.”

  “Will do,” he replied, giving a mock salute before turning on his heel and sauntering down the walk.

  * * * *

  Another afternoon dragged by at New Leaf Designs and as soon as I ran through the closing procedures, I bolted out the door, and raced home. The house was empty when I arrived, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Robbie was still pissed at me for quote, unquote taking Dad’s side, in the car argument and he’d managed to rally Phillip to his side too. The morning had crackled with an invisible tension as the three of us had eaten our breakfasts. Neither of them had said anything to me, but they didn’t need to, to get their point across. Their pointed glares and deliberate silence was enough to let me know where I stood. My dad was gone by the time I’d gotten downstairs, so I had no one to come to my defense. The entire thing was childish and exhausting.

  When had the entire world turned against me? First Jeanine and now it was my own brothers? I was beginning to cycle through recent life choices to figure out what I’d done to anger the bitch known as Karma.

  In the silence of the house, my tension started to melt away. I’d always been a little bit of an odd ball, often preferring to be alone than to constantly be surrounded by others. However, with four older brothers in a relatively small house, it was rare to get a moment of peace and quiet. I made a cup of coffee before going upstairs to my room that doubled as my studio. I had a skinny twin size bed on one side of the room and a mess of canvases, paints, and a drawing desk on the other side. While most of my peers spent their free money on clothes or concert tickets, I’d always saved my money to drop at the local art supply shop. And my room was evidence of my habit.

  My current work in progress would actually be on display in an art gallery in less than a month, along with two older pieces that had been leaning up against the wall for the past six months. I knew I needed to finish the piece, but with everything going on, and such a tight schedule, it was hard to find time. However, I had a free evening—I supposed that was the silver lining of having nearly everyone in my life pissed off at me—and decided to throw myself into finishing the piece. I changed into my usual art shirt—it was a white button up that my dad had discarded years ago. I’d stolen it from the donation box and decided to keep it for myself back when I was in high school. It was no longer white, and in some cases had more colors splotched on it than the canvas before me, but it was my favorite thing and had become an essential component to my creative process over the years.

  * * * *

  As busy as I was before, I couldn’t have imagined cramming even more into my schedule, but the next morning, before classes, I found myself back at Timeless Timepieces for my official first day. My heart slammed inside my chest as though a jackhammer had been left running on the sidewalk at the thought of seeing Grant again. I had no idea how I was going to face him after the kiss.

  I finally pulled myself together and pushed inside the frosted glass doors that led into the office suite and made my way to Grant’s assistant’s desk. She smiled at me when I arrived. “Good morning, Megan.”

  “Morning.” I clasped my hands together to keep from fidgeting.

  “We didn’t formally meet yesterday, I’m Cara,” she said, leaning across the desk to offer me her hand.

  I took her hand and shook it, surprised by her firm grip. She was a petite woman, probably in her late twenties with large almond shaped brown eyes and long, shiny hair that was probably the envy of everyone she met. She could easily give shampoo commercial models a run for their money.

  “Nice to meet you,” I replied.

  She released my hand and sank back into her chair. “So, Mr. Christiansen is in a meeting this morning, so you’re stuck with me, but I’ll show you to your desk and try to answer any questions you have.”

  Relief and disappointment wa
shed over me at her words. On the one hand, I felt my nerves soothed at having a little more time to get a grip on myself before coming face to face with Grant, but there was something else there too, a bubble of panic at the thought that maybe he was avoiding me.

  “Follow me,” Cara said, standing again and leading me away from Grant’s office.

  She took me up one floor and through a maze of cubicles to the one that had been designated as mine. The soft, fabric wall had a name plate embedded that was polished with my name. Inside, there was a desk, chair, file cabinet, and a very sleek looking computer with three monitors. Everything looked brand new, as though they were picked out specifically for me. Cara helped me get situated with login information and showing me how internal communication was run through a series of applications for chats, Q & A’s, and an archive stuffed full of past meeting notes on any topic I could even imagine.

  “Go ahead and get settled in, and as soon as Mr. Christiansen is available, he’ll be down to answer any questions. Your position is a little specific, so we don’t really have a training guide.”

  “Thank you,” I said, sinking into the soft leather chair.

  Cara flashed me another smile and scurried away. Once she was gone, I turned back to the computer and familiarized myself with the setup.

  An hour later, I was making sketches of some watch face designs on a scratch pad, when Grant’s silky smooth voice purred over my shoulder, “Morning.”

  I jolted, surprised by the sound and ended up rolling back in my chair on the slick mat under the wheels. Grant reached out and stopped the chair and spun it around so that I was facing him.

  “Hi.” My cheeks warmed and I cursed my pale skin tone for giving away every thought and emotion. “You scared me.”

  Grant leaned in and his cologne invaded my cubicle, surrounding me with his scent. His face was inches from mine, his dark eyes locked with mine before whispering, “You don’t need to be afraid.”

  Fuck.

  Goosebumps broke out along my arms and my feet slipped on the floor, trying to push the chair back, out of his grip, but he held firm for another moment before releasing me. I scooted back three feet to what—I’d hoped—was a safe distance so he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was thundering inside my chest.

  “What are these?” he asked, stepping into the cubicle and looking down at my desk.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just sketching,” I said, stacking the pages together.

  Grant reached down and stilled my fingers, sending hot jolts of electricity through my hands and up my arms. “Wait, let me see.” He studied the sketches with a careful eye before looking back down at me. “These are great.”

  “I was just doodling, really.”

  “Why are you being so modest? These are really good. Own it.”

  I gave a sharp nod to indicate lesson learned, before adding a dry joke, “Okay, fine, they kick all other watches asses.”

  Grant laughed and set the pages back down and turned his attention to the computer screen where I’d pulled up the internal chat window to see what other employees were conversing about while I sketched. At first, it felt a little like spying, but after a few minutes, it was apparent that no one was giving away company secrets in a public chat feed and reading the comments and notes helped me get a feel for the energy in the office.

  Grant perched on the edge of my desk and my eyes couldn’t help but take a quick tour up his strong leg as he propped it up. He was wearing a pair of charcoal grey slacks that were fitted just right to display his powerful muscles under the soft, expensive looking fabric. “So, what do you think?”

  “Well, I haven’t done much yet, but the office is very nice. Cara seems like a real sweetheart.”

  Grant flashed me a smile, and I couldn’t help wondering what his relationship was like with his beautiful assistant. My positive opinion of Cara, tarnished slightly at the thought of her and Grant working long hours, alone together. I pushed the images away, because, really, it was none of my business what he did and with whom.

  “You’ll fit nicely,” he said, and I blushed again at the suggestive tone of his voice.

  “I hope so. I did have a couple of questions after studying the forms we went over yesterday. I was reading them again last night, and wanted to clarify a few points,” I said, desperate to change the topic back to something more solid-feeling. Grant had a knack for turning an innocent conversation into something blush-worthy, while still maintaining a professional polish that left me wondering if he was really flirting—or if I was simply reading way too much into every word he said.

  “Of course,” he replied, turning his attention away from me and back to my computer screen as I pulled up the copy of the forms that had been emailed to me.

  We went over the questions—most of which I invented on the spot to keep him talking about work—and then he shifted to going over more specific notes on my daily work life and idea schedule. The conversation was light and to the point, but it was hard to fully concentrate with him so close to me, often leaning over to study the screen which put his perfect, chiseled jaw inches from my face.

  Just as my thoughts were dissolving into nothing other than thinking about the kiss, Grant’s phone chirped. He straightened and took the call. As he listened to whoever was on the other end, he hopped down from my desk and excused himself from my cubicle. When he walked away, I got my head back together and noticed that I had less than an hour until I needed to be at class. I grabbed my bag and waited for him to return, but he didn’t come back. I stood to see over the partial wall and he was nowhere in sight.

  I heard a chiming from my computer and turned to see a personal message from him on the computer screen letting me know he would be tied up for the rest of the day and that we would have to continue tomorrow. I read the message twice, and the mixed relief and disappointed feeling crept back over me as I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and hurried out of the office and back to campus.

  Chapter Nine — Grant

  It only took two weeks for me to start questioning my choice to bring Megan on as a Timeless Timepieces employee. Professionally, she was doing a great job. She had seamlessly integrated into the office culture, and even though she was only able to devote a handful of hours each day, she’d already made a good impression on those around her and had contributed quite a lot of useful information from her cyber gleaning at the first marketing meeting that she’d attended. However, on a personal level, being so close to her every day and feeling her resistance to anything that even felt personal, she backed off and threw up thick walls that I hadn’t yet figured out how to scale.

  I would. It was only a matter of time.

  The only thing that was clear—I had to have her. With every obstacle she threw in my way, it would only make it that more satisfying when she finally gave into me. And she would. Until then, it was a slow torture.

  The weekly marketing meeting had wrapped up twenty minutes to noon, and the rest of the team had shot out of the conference room like they’d been fired from a cannon, eager to have a celebratory lunch on the first meeting in months that hadn’t left us all wanting to tear out our hair and burn all the campaign design boards. Megan had hung back, collecting the sketches and logo ideas that she’d been working on—that I’d insisted she bring to the meeting to share.

  I studied her as she worked, her dark hair hiding her face as she bent over the array of papers, trying to match them all together so none of the corners were bent. She had no idea how crazy she was making me. “You were amazing, Megan.”

  She looked up and smiled at me. “Thanks. That felt good. Like, I was really making a difference.”

  I laughed. “You definitely did. Normally these meetings drag on for hours, and at the end, we all retreat to start from scratch again. I think you just might’ve given us back our mojo.”

  She brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear and her smile widened further. “This is what I wanted, you know, when I took my inte
rnship at the design studio. I thought it would be more like this.”

  “What’s it really like?” I leaned back in my chair and watched her intently.

  “Boring. I don’t even end up designing anything and most of the other interns spend more time on social media than actually working. I guess that’s probably why no one has reported it back to the school as not exactly meeting the internship criteria. No one wants to lose their cushy job.”

  “So quit,” I said. “We could certainly fill your hours here.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she answered, and I thought I saw a suppressed eye roll. “I’m so close to graduating, I can’t throw away all those hours. It’s an easy pass, and I’ll be done soon and one step closer to my degree.

  “Fair enough, I’ll just have to wait for you,” I said, my voice thick with the double meaning of my statement. Megan turned her face away and busied herself again, even though the papers were as lined up as possible.

  I tamped down the urge to sigh and got up from my seat and crossed to the opposite side of the room where a cart full of coffees had been brought in for the meeting. I grabbed two fresh cups, doctored them up, and took one back to Megan, using the opportunity to stand close to her and feel the electric charge that flickered between us whenever we got close enough.

  “Thanks,” she said, meeting my eyes as she took the cup from my hand.

  I wondered if she could feel it too.

  She took a slow sip and I nearly lost all self-control as I watched her lips press up against the smooth, white plastic lid. A drop escaped the rim and she flicked it away with the tip of her tongue. She did it so mindlessly, without a clue how much every move she made was not only noticed, but the effect it had on me.

  “Mmm. This is perfect. How’d you know how I take my coffee?” she asked, arching a brow at me.

  “You have a pretty serious caffeine problem,” I answered, a soft laugh easing my intense arousal.

  She blushed slightly and took another sip. “I didn’t realize you noticed that kind of stuff.”