“What,” I finally say groggily.
“I need your keys,” he says. “You fell asleep in the car.”
Still not fully awake, I fumble for my keys in my pocket and carelessly hand them to him, nuzzling my head back into the crook of his neck and closing my eyes again. I feel him chuckle as I hear the door unlock and then shut behind him.
Keys clatter onto the kitchen counter as Dylan’s light footsteps echo through the apartment. Rain falls heavily outside, adding to my drowsiness.
Moments later I feel Dylan set me down lightly on what must be my bed. I sigh in my sleepy state and keep my eyes closed.
“Do you want me to take your shoes off?” I hear Dylan ask.
Entirely too exhausted to reply verbally, I nod to the best of my ability and Dylan chuckles. I feel his hands close around my right foot as he unties the laces on my Keds, slipping each shoe off.
At this point, I’m almost completely unconscious again, barely noticing what happens after that.
I vaguely remember Dylan pulling my comforter over my body and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear gently before leaving my apartment.
The next morning, I wake up still in my clothes from last night. I rub sleep out of my eyes and check the time. It’s seven am on Monday—time to get ready for work.
As I slide out of bed, I notice a piece of paper sitting next to my clock on my dresser.
Intrigued, I unfold it.
Katie—
You fell asleep in my car last night. Don’t let it happen again.
—Dylan
It was at that moment, as I read and reread the simple note ten times over, a silly grin spreading across my face, that I realized I have fallen for Dylan Hard.
“Welcome back, Katie,” Mr. Morris greets me as I walk into the office a few hours later.
“Thank you,” I smile, stopping to talk to him.
“How was London?”
“Brutally cold.”
Mr. Morris chuckles. “Any snow up there yet?”
“Not quite, usually we get the first snow mid to late November.”
“I see. Well, it’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back.”
I set my things down on my desk, my organization skills immediately kicking in as I replace my items to where they should go.
“Morning, Katie.”
I look up and smile at Oliver. “Hi.”
“How was the trip?”
“Pretty alright. How was your art convention?”
“It was great, actually. I won a small award for one of my pieces, actually.”“That’s fantastic!”
“It is, isn’t it?” He grins and leans forward slightly. “Oh, and I ended up buying Sarah an ‘I Love London’ mug for her coffee.” He nods towards Sarah’s direction and I turn in my seat to see that she is indeed sipping from an ‘I Love London’ mug, a small smile on her lips.
“Good choice,” I tell Oliver. “The home soda maker was a bit of a flight risk.”He grins. “I thought so too.”
I begin my work for the day, wondering where Dylan is. He hasn’t shown up yet, and it’s almost nine o’clock. He’s never this late.
I had barely finished thinking this when Dylan slides into his desk, running a hand through his hair.
Like a shark, Mr. Morris steps out of his office and over to our desk cluster. “Wilson, late again,” he sighs.
“There was actually traffic this time,” Dylan says, glaring up at Mr. Morris from his desk.
“How many times have you used that excuse, Wilson?”
“I’m not lying this time.”
“This is the fifth time you’ve come in late this quarter. You have five strikes, Wilson.”Dylan furrows his brow. “Mr. Morris, I know I’m not exactly from Britain, but I don’t believe that’s how baseball works.”I can’t help it. A loud giggle escapes my lips and both their gazes flash to me.
“Something funny, Miss Harris?” Mr. Morris asks.
I flush. “Uh—no. Sorry.”
Mr. Morris nods before turning back to Dylan. “Shape up,” he snaps at him before walking away, back to his office.
Dylan smirks at me.
“Shut up,” I say to him before he can talk.
He laughs, picking up his rubber band ball and beginning to toss it in the air. “Looks like Katie the goody-goody almost got in trouble back there.”“I’m not a goody-goody.” I scoff.
“Alright.” Dylan snorts, rolling his eyes.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Do your work.”
“Want to come over here and make me?”
He raises his eyebrows, his smirk never faltering.
“No, I’m good,” I answer. “I don’t want your British germs.”Dylan laughs. “British germs, eh?”
“Did I stutter?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Damn, Katie, you’re feisty this morning.” He tosses the rubber band ball in the air again. “Guess you’re trying to prove to me you’re not a goody-goody.” He raises his eyebrows humorously.
“I don’t have to prove anything,” I retort.
“Alright, Katie.”
I roll my eyes at him and look back down at my work. With Dylan sitting five feet from me, it’s going to be hard for me to focus, with his teasing smirks and devilish grins. If only he could do his work, I would be able to do mine.
I almost laugh out loud at the thought of Dylan actually doing his work.
Incredibly, I manage to get a quarter way through my manuscript by lunch hour, when my red pen runs out of ink.
“Shit,” I curse as I scribble over post-it notes, trying to get it to work again.
“Having trouble?”
Dylan stands above my desk, smirking, as always.
“My favorite pen is dying,” I say, continuing to attempt to revive it.
“Katherine, it’s time for lunch—”
“My favorite pen is dying,” I repeat, looking up at him.
“Katie—”
“My favorite pen is dying!”
“For fuck’s sake, it’s a pen. Here, have mine.” He reaches for a pen from his desk, dropping it onto mine.
I take his pen in my hand, clicking it open. I scribble over the post-it note.
“Oooh,” I say. “This is a nice pen.”
“I know. It’s my favorite.”
“Well, if it’s your favorite, I can’t take it.” I hold the pen back out to him.
“No, it’s yours. I know where to buy another one, anyway.”
“But it’s your favor—”
“Take the pen, Katherine, before I have to tape it to you.” He smirks again.
“Thank you,” I say, rising from my desk.
“It’s just a pen.”
“I like pens,” I say as we walk to the break room.
“I can tell.” Dylan rolls his eyes and I smack him lightly on the arm.
“Ouch,” he says humorously as we sit at a table with Oliver, Sarah, Lana and Phil.
“Are you going to cry?” I ask Dylan, widening my eyes in humor.
“I think I am,” Dylan says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. I laugh.
The other four stare at us as we banter back and forth. Oliver accidentally spills his Coke on himself, and we all burst into laughter.
“Have an accident there?” Dylan asks and Oliver flips him the bird.
Lunch passes quickly, and soon Dylan and I are walking back to our desks. Suddenly, Dylan grabs my arm and pulls me against the wall of the break room, his face serious.
“Dylan, what—”
“Shh,” he shushes, peeking around the corner at the reception area.
Unable to see anything happening, I comply, thoroughly confused.
Voices carry from the reception area.
“Can you tell me where Katie Harris is, please? She doesn’t seem to be at her workspace.”I freeze.
“James?” I mouth to Dylan.
He nods and looks back around the corner. My pulse quickens.
“We need to see her, now.” A different voice.
“I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s lunch hour, isn’t it? Is she in the break room?” The same voice asks.
“I don’t know, but—”
“Check the break room,” the voice says, most likely to James.
I freeze. If they come to the break room, they’ll definitely find Dylan and I.
Dylan pulls his phone from his pocket and rapidly sends someone a text. I remain frozen.
He locks his phone and looks at me. “When I say so, we’re going to sneak out the front,” he whispers.
“What? They’ll see—”
“Just trust me, alright?”
I look into his eyes and nod.
Just then, I hear another voice.
“James, Alec, what are you doing here?” Oliver asks.
Alec.
Alec is the second voice, the one I didn’t recognize. Fear shoots through me.
“Roberts, where’s Katie Harris?” James’s voice snaps. James knows Oliver?
“Katie Harris? I think she went upstairs to talk to Crane.”
“Crane? Of course. James, let’s go.” Alec’s cold voice sends shivers down my spine.
I hear rustling and suddenly Dylan grabs my hand, pulling me from behind the wall and out the door.
He nods to Oliver and continues to tug me until we’re a few stories down, in the stairwell. The elevator was “too slow and too dangerous,” in his words.
Dylan leans back against the wall, running a hand through his hair.
“Okay,” I say. “I think you have some explaining to do.”
Before Dylan can open his mouth, footsteps are heard in the stairwell and I whirl around.
“There you are, Katie,” James says, his eyes flashing dangerously. “My uncle and I have been looking for you everywhere.”I widen my eyes.
Uncle?
Chapter Fifty One
“U-uncle?” I manage to stammer, staring at James in disbelief.
Dylan steps in front of me, his posture rigid. “What do you want?” He snaps at James.
“We need to speak to Katie. That’s all.” A wicked grin spreads across James’s face. It’s hard for me to believe this is the same boy that asked me out for dinner five months ago—the smart, nice medical intern.
“What do you want to speak to her about?”
“I believe you know exactly what we want to speak to her about.”
My heart drops to my feet.
I step around Dylan so I can see his face. “You knew,” I breathe in realization. “You knew James was—was—”“Katie, I’m counting to three,” James says, cutting me off before Dylan can respond. “You’d better come with me.”“And if I don’t?”
James laughs darkly.
“She’s not going anywhere.”
At the top of the stairs stands Oliver, arms crossed over his chest.
James turns around, a smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, what do we have here?”Someone else steps into the stairwell. I recognize the face and blonde hair as Ethan’s.
“A big, fat can of whup-ass,” Ethan says, smirking.
Dylan smirks as well, running his tongue over his teeth.
I feel confused, but I’m intrigued by the turn of events.
Does this mean Dylan, Oliver and Ethan are rebelling?
Oliver and Ethan walk down the stairs to stand by me and Dylan. Ethan winks at me.
“Alright, boys,” James says. “If this is how shit’s going go, so be it. I think you’re forgetting the power of Lyone Enterprises, and Alec.”“We’re the ones dealing with the money that goes to Alec, and without us Lyone Enterprises isn’t shit,” Dylan spits.
“You’re wrong,” James sneers.
“No, he’s not,” Oliver says. “He’s completely right.”
“What I’m wondering here is how a little fuck like you managed to date Katie,” Ethan says.
Oliver, Dylan and Ethan chuckle lightly as James locks his jaw.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” I say and Dylan catches my eye. I feel like melting under his heavy, approving gaze.
James takes a step forward and grips my wrist, yanking me toward him. I try to pull away, but he’s too strong.
Dylan moves instantly, but Oliver grabs his arm.
“Stop,” I say to James. “I don’t know what you want from me, but you’re sure as hell not going to get it,” I spit, my eyes flashing with disgust at him.
“Wrong again, Katie,” James says, beginning to tug me back up the stairs.
Adrenaline rushes through me as I reach up and slap him across the face, hard. Perhaps even harder than what he did to me the night we broke up. And it feels damn good.
I yank my arm away from him and step back next to Dylan.
I feel Dylan’s warm hand press to my lower back almost protectively and my pulse quickens.
James clutches his cheek in pain, his gaze venomous.
Ethan and Oliver, meanwhile, are cracking up at James’s pain.
“Good hit,” Dylan says in my ear. I can tell he’s smirking.
James straightens his posture. “This isn’t over,” he snaps. “You’ll get what you deserve. All of you.”He turns on his heel and climbs the stairs, his footsteps echoing.
“Katie, you’re my hero,” Ethan says. “His face when you hit him, Jesus—”
“I hate that little shit,” Oliver says.
“Don’t we all,” I sigh.
“This is bad,” Dylan says, beginning to pace.
“We can’t talk about this here,” Oliver says. “Let’s go back to Dylan’s.”Everyone agrees and we climb the stairs down to the lobby, going to our respective vehicles.
He Looked Back Page 24
