Now with my thoughts about work somewhat organized, I felt less frazzled. Glancing at the time, I knew Mari would be home anytime now. So I dumped my suitcase in my room before getting comfortable on the couch to wait for her.
Ten minutes later, the door opened and Mari waltzed in. Upon seeing me, she smiled and declared, “It’s about fucking time! I really thought I was going to have to hurt him.” And before I could do anything more than laugh, Mari was sitting with her head resting on my shoulder. “You really shouldn’t do that again. You know how much I hate to feed myself and do dishes.”
I looked past her to the sink full of dishes. “We have a dishwasher, and the sink is full, so what dishes did you do?”
“Pfft, I just said I hate doing dishes.”
Huffing a laugh, I leaned my head on hers. “You know, we really should be concerned with this whole co-dependency thing we’ve got going on here.”
“Nah, it works just fine for me. I hate doing dishes; you love doing them. It’s the perfect balance,” Mari said before jumping up and adding, “And so you don’t have to do too many more dishes, we should get take-out.”
“How gracious of you,” I stated dryly as she drug me from the comfort of the cushions. I was oddly hungry given it was so early in the evening.
“I know, right? Now what are we getting?” she asked while pulling menus out of the drawer. “Pizza?”
Surprisingly, pizza didn’t sound good tonight. Shaking my head, I said, “How about Chinese?”
“Works for me,” Mari said, picking that particular menu out of the pile. Minutes later, we were both perched on the couch scrolling through our DVR list. Yeah, it was nice to be home. Only thing missing was Jonathan, and here I was giving him a hard time for wanting me to stay longer. Shaking my head, I tuned in to what Mari had selected and went about enjoying a normal evening at home.
Sunday afternoon found Jonathan and I relaxing on the couch watching television. It was a lazy day for us—not our usual routine, but I just couldn’t shake how tired I felt. The past week of not working really messed with my body, and I was looking forward to getting back into my regular schedule. That was, of course, hoping that everything played in my favor tomorrow at the meeting. Rick had called me Friday afternoon and asked me to come in to work Monday to meet with him. When I asked him if I should plan on staying for the day, he answered with, “I’ll brief you on your patients’ progress then.”
That was promising, right? It had to be. When I ran that scenario past Mari and Jonathan, they both agreed and pointed out that he wouldn’t be able to discuss patients and their progress with me if I wasn’t going to be an employee any longer. This assumption allowed me to have a relaxing weekend as I basked in the hope I pulled from his vague response.
Jonathan’s long body was stretched out, his legs resting on the ottoman, while I was curled into his side, my legs crossing over his lap. His arm behind me put his hand in perfect position to play with my hair, which I loved. It had the ability to lull me to sleep—like it was doing right now.
“You really need to stop playing with my hair, or I’ll be taking a nap instead of accompanying you to see your brothers,” I teased him with a poke to the rib.
Jonathan flinched. “Hey now, there’s no need to inflict pain. I can take a direct order.”
Settling deeper into his side, I admitted, “I’ve noticed that about you. It’s a very redeeming quality.”
“Is that so? I hope it’s not my only one,” he said, and I felt the rumble of his laugh against my cheek as his hand swept up and down the length of my back in a soothing motion. It was another thing that could lull me to sleep. Sitting up, I pulled my legs underneath me, bringing me higher on the couch. I was now able to drape my arm across his shoulders and subsequently play with his hair. He sighed, and his eyes rolled back in his head while I turned the tables on him.
“Of course it’s not your only one,” I said with a smile. My one hand lightly scored the curve of his scalp while the other one caressed his neck, kneading the muscles at the base of his head.
“Hmmm, care to share any of them with me?” His voice was completely relaxed.
“Fishing for compliments?” I teased.
“Never. I just figured if you focused on my redeeming qualities, you’d keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Ah, okay, well let me think for a minute.” I thought about it while I continued to enjoy the silky thickness of his hair. “You have the softest hair.”
He chuckled. “Is that one of my qualities?”
“Most definitely. Bad hair would be a deal breaker for me.”
“Good to know,” he said with a smirk as he peeked at me through one eye. “Any redeeming qualities that aren’t physical?”
I pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Yes, but the physical ones can be distracting sometimes. Though if you wanted a non-physical one, I’d have to go with your laid back temperament.”
He huffed indignantly. “I think you’re the only person who’d say that about me. I’m a moody asshole at times, just ask my family. Or Robby for that matter.”
“Really, I don’t see that. I mean, I can tell you’re intense about things. Especially when you care about it. But we’ve never even had a fight … why is that?”
Turning his head to the side, he looked at me. His expression was considering. “You’re right, we haven’t. I’m going to say it’s because our mutual awesomeness won’t allow it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I’m not even sure what that means.”
His one arm crossed his body and rubbed up and down my thigh. It always felt like he needed to touch me, and I liked that. Smiling, he answered, “It means that the universe fears such a thing happening because there’d have to be a winner and a loser in a fight. Our awesomeness allows us both to be winners.”
Typical guy, I thought with a snort. “So if we got into a fight, we’d both be losers?”
“I could never be a loser, baby. That’s just crazy talk.”
I prepared for her response, which I was certain would involve another poke to the ribs. Or possibly something larger, like a knee. She didn’t disappoint. “Be careful there, soccer player, that statement sounded dangerously close to you calling me a loser.”
Making a grab for her, I leaned in and wrapped my arm around both of her thighs, which protected me from any direct blows and allowed me to position her under me on the couch. She giggled while trying to maintain a stern expression as she scolded me. The conflict of it was amusing.
“Did I say I could never be a loser? How stupid of me. What I meant was we … we could never be losers.” I assumed my grin emphasized I’d intentionally said what I did. She was so easy to bait and tease, I couldn’t resist. “But hey, if you want, we can try that fighting thing out. I hear that make-up sex is pretty freaking awesome.”
“Oh, you think you’re smooth, don’t you? Are you saying sex with me isn’t pretty freaking awesome?” she teased right back as one of her hands managed to poke my side, and I flinched into the back of the couch on reflex. Ouch! That one was going to leave a mark. Grabbing her wrist, I pinned it next to us on the couch.
“Hell no! There you go with the crazy talk again, baby. Try to control yourself,” I said with mock offense. Lowering my voice, I pretended to chastise by adding, “And I thought we already covered that there’s no need to inflict pain.” She stopped wiggling beneath me and her eyebrows went up in question. I answered with a poke to her side, which brought out a squeal of laughter as I began to tickle her.
“No! Stop! Uncle, I call uncle!” she yelled loudly, trying to deflect my hands. I wasn’t even tickling her at this point, but apparently just the possibility of it had her writhing in search of escape.
“Kiss me, and I’ll stop,” I demanded, as I placed my lips in reach. Hiding my grin, I accepted her breathless kiss. Her wiggling halted and our touches became softer with a different intent. Needy even. Then again, I always needed her. Wanted
her. It was an overwhelming feeling. She wasn’t wrong when she said I was laid back. What she didn’t realize was that I only seemed to be that way with her. Not that I was a giant prick with everyone else. It took a lot to get me cranky, but with her, it didn’t seem to happen. She soothed me. Calmed me.
Needing air, I broke from the kiss and stared down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark hair was spread out around her. She was so fucking sexy it took my breath away. “Do you know that you make me happy?”
She smiled that shy smile of hers. The one that told me there was still an insecure girl underneath all that tough confidence she exuded. “I do?” she asked.
“Yes,” I stated matter-of-factly. “Do you know what would make me even happier?”
Her expression was thoughtful for a moment. “No.”
I unleashed the full power of my smile and replied, “Me neither, because I’m pretty sure this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Leeann’s head cocked to the side as she smiled. “Aww, not to downplay the sweetness and sincerity you just displayed, but seriously, where do you come up with these lines?”
A small laugh escaped me and I shrugged. “Apparently, awesome crap just flows when you’re in love. Really, it’s all your fault.”
Her fingers swept my hair out of my face before her hand rested against my cheek. “Is that so?”
I turned my face into her palm and kissed it, slipping my tongue out to tickle it before turning back to her. “Yep. You were doing that breathing thing again. Make sure you keep that shit up, all right?”
She responded with a sweet smile. “I love you, soccer player.”
“I love you, too, my spandex-wearing goddess,” I confessed before kissing her breathless again, the whole time wishing it wasn’t Sunday and that I didn’t have to go back up to school. Leaving Leeann was the only reason I no longer enjoyed going to school in Orange County. Up until now, I’d loved it. Even though I came home during the summers to work, I never had a problem with being at school. Leeann definitely made the thought of working construction during the summer months a little more appealing. Even if I would be working with my dad.
“Now, about this make-up sex business, should we give it some more thought?” I teased, which earned me another damn poke to the ribs.
Shock. Shock and utter consternation at what I’d just been told overwhelmed me. Rick, and the district manager, whatever the hell his name was, told me the exact implications that made up the sexual harassment complaint against me. It was horseshit! And now I had a name to go along with the accusations. Marla. If I’d disliked her before, it was safe to say I’d ventured into unfettered hatred at this point.
Finally finding my voice, I muttered, “Are you kidding me?”
Rick sighed. “No, I’m not. But I’d like to state, for the record, I felt these accusations were false from the very beginning.” He said that second part while looking at Mr. District Manager, and I knew he wasn’t saying that just for my benefit. The man responded with a nod before both sets of eyes returned to me.
“So … how is this going to affect my employment? ‘Cause I have to tell you, I don’t like the thought of a blemish on my record because some nasty coworker of mine has some unknown vendetta against me,” I stated, and my voice steadied the more I spoke. Bolstered by the anger I felt at being a target, I added more firmly, “And I want it documented that I do not feel comfortable working in the same office with her any longer.”
Rick nodded with a slightly smug grin, which he quickly removed before saying, “We aren’t at liberty to discuss Marla with you, but I will say you can rest assured she will not be a difficulty for you or your patients any longer.”
I sighed in relief. His words, though once again vague, delivered the message perfectly. “Do you have any idea why she did this?”
It was Rick’s turn to sigh. “Best I can figure out was that the person she accused you of having sexual relations in the office with, was the same person who filed a complaint against her. That complaint was added to her permanent file, and we assume this prompted her accusations.”
Completely surprised by this brand new information, my head jolted back. “Jonathan Baxter filed a complaint about Marla? That’s what started this? That’s what cost me a week’s salary?”
Both men nodded silently. Anger at the possibility that things might’ve played out differently stirred in my belly, bringing that unsettled, I-might-get-sick feeling with it. With lips set in a firm line, I asked, “So, am I allowed to return to my patients today?”
Rick smiled genuinely. “We’d appreciate it if you could. Your patients definitely missed you.”
Comforted by his words, a little of my anger abated, but not all of it. I was definitely going to be having words with Jonathan later. When the two men stood, I followed suit and accepted the outstretched hand of the district manager. “Please accept our apologies Miss Bradley, and know that you’ll be receiving your full wages for the time you missed. Since there was no validity to the complaint, and you weren’t in the wrong, you will not be penalized in any way.”
Another shred of anger at Jonathan slipped away with that. Now I couldn’t use that against him since I basically got a week off, with pay. Still. He should’ve told me about what he’d done. Taking an unnecessary risk with my job was not okay.
Rick walked me to the front desk and introduced me to Britney, the new receptionist. It was comforting to see the way everything had backfired on Marla.
It wasn’t until lunch time rolled around that I finally found a free minute to talk to Jonathan. He’d texted a few times throughout the morning, and even called twice. I felt a little bad I was essentially ignoring him. There was a distinct possibility that he’d be able to defend himself rationally and I’d have to forget about it. But for some reason, I wanted to stay irritated.
Now, as I walked to lunch, I found myself glaring at my ringing phone. I knew I needed to talk to him, so I answered gruffly, “Hello.”
“Leeann? What’s the matter?” Jonathan asked, his voice sounding perfect and full of concern. Irritating!
“Nothing,” I snapped as my steps began to get heavier, almost stomping.
“Are you sure? Because it sure sounds like something is wrong. How did your meeting go?”
“No, you know what? There is something wrong!” I barked, causing a person walking past me to move to the side. “Wanna know who filed the complaint?” My voice was nasty, and I vaguely realized this was not normal behavior. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Yeah, babe. I do. Especially if it’ll help me understand why you seem so angry.”
“Marla,” I stated boldly and full of venom, like saying her name alone explained everything.
Jonathan grumbled something I didn’t understand before he said, “God, I hate that woman. What the hell did she say you did?”
I snorted. He clearly wasn’t going to come right out and confess what he’d done. “She said that she caught me and my boyfriend in a sexual situation, and we propositioned her.”
“What the fuck? I nearly just threw up in my mouth.” A small smile broke through my irritation.
“I know, right?” I said before I realized I was trying to stay mad. Dammit! Schooling my voice, I sternly asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you filed a formal complaint about her? They think that’s why she accused me the way she did.”
Oh hell. I could hear her voice change. It had gone from angry, to humorous, back to firm, before trailing off into sad. She was all over the place, and I experienced that helpless feeling of being too far away from her.
“Leeann, I didn’t not tell you on purpose. I kind of forgot all about it until you just brought it up. I did it back before we started dating. You remember that old man who she wouldn’t let see you?” I kept my voice gentle, like I was approaching something scary. Truth be told, I’d never experienced Leeann like this, and it was unsettling.
I heard a small sniffle through the line, and
my stomach clenched when she said, “Yeah, I remember that day. I was so furious with her, and Mr. Turner needed to see me.”
“Baby, tell me why you’re crying,” I said softly, hoping she’d actually tell me.
A laugh/snort type noise came over the line as she said, “I have no idea.” She paused, and I could hear her take a deep, settling breath before she continued with a less shaky voice, “I’ve never been like this before. I was so worried about the meeting, and then when they told me my job was safe, I was relieved. Then they told me what she accused me of, and my shock at that sent my emotions one way. And then they told me about your complaint and how they felt it might be the reason behind her accusations, and my emotions took on a whole different color. I was angry at you for doing something that caused me problems. Even though I knew it was irrational, I wanted to be angry at you for it. Fuck, even now I want to be angry about it, but I’m not, and that makes me angry!”
She ended her rambling with a groan and an exaggerated breath. I covered my mouth to hide the almost silent chuckle that escaped me. It was like she was having a conversation, or an argument, with herself. “I love you.”
I heard her sigh. “And that is why I was having trouble being mad at you.”
“I’m sorry, baby, would you like me to say something that’ll make you mad at me? It might be easier for you since I’m not there and those physical redeeming qualities of mine won’t be so distracting.” I paused then added, “Oh wait! If you were mad at me, and now you’re not, does that mean we get to have that awesome make-up sex?”
This time, when she laughed, it was a real one. The unsettled feeling that had gripped me dissipated. But in its wake was that feeling of longing I was becoming all too familiar with, since it seemed to hang with me whenever I was away from Leeann.
“Come on, come on, come on!” I chanted to the elevator. It wasn’t listening. In fact, it felt like it had slowed down. Gritting my teeth, I decided it would be easier to will my stomach to behave than a damn elevator to respond to my pleas. So, I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath through my nose. Then another one. In the nose … out the mouth. Suddenly, a sweat broke out across my forehead and a new wave of nausea hit me just as the elevator doors opened. Making a run for it, I dashed across the lobby, thankful everyone seemed to scatter from my path. The bathroom door opened with a thud, and I managed to get the stall door closed behind me before I bent over and lost my breakfast.
Assumptions Page 22
