My hand shoots into the air.
I register the derisive snort from the opposite end of the table and choose to ignore it. Rebel’s gaze drops to me in approval, and he slides one of the decorative baskets toward me before lifting his attention back to the others in my group. I don’t turn my head to look, but I get the feeling that the dead silence in the room and his growing disappointment means that I’m the only one volunteering for the job.
“Anyone else? We need two people for this project,” he repeats, watching each of the people seated next to me expectantly. “Fine,” he says finally. “I guess that means I’ll have to enact the draft. Jenna, you’ll be heading up the project with Miss Hart.”
She makes a sound of protest, triggering Rebel’s temper. “I have a lot of work to do,” she complains. “Work that I’m not just going to hand over for someone else to finish and take credit for.”
“I understand that you would like to see those through,” Florence speaks up, her nose in the air and her tone firm. “But as Mr. Scott has explained, this is a team project that needs two people. You all had your chance to weigh in one way or the other, and by remaining silent, you’ve waived your right to protest.”
Damn, but I almost like her right now. The way Florence just took command of the situation, backing Rebel without a moment’s hesitation? I can’t not admire her for that. It takes a strong woman to sit at the head of a table like she is.
It galls me, but I think I’m starting to see why he likes her.
Ugh, yuck. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.
Jenna issues a few more complaints, ranting about injustice and unfairness and a few other nesses that I don’t care to listen to because, at this point, she’s really beginning to get on my nerves. Whatever happened to being a team player? I bide my time while everyone at the table hashes out the details and smooths ruffled feathers, and then we’re all standing as Rebel dismisses us.
Keeping my eyes forward, I tell him discretely, “Thank you for the flower.” Glancing up, I catch the odd look he’s wearing and wonder what I said to put it there. Was I not supposed to mention it, or wasn’t he the one who gave it to me? We’re moving through the door now, so I don’t have time to ask the questions now weighing on my mind.
“My driver will be waiting for you after work. He’ll take you to my apartment. Wait for me,” Rebel whispers as he sees me out the door.
Is he crazy? That’s the last place I want to go, and just where in the hell does he get off thinking he can order me around? I can’t even tell him what I think about his idea because as I step into the hall I see Jack Donnelly waiting outside.
Jack’s standing with his hands folded together in front of him, and when he sees me, a smile splits across his weathered face. “Josephine, it’s good to see you again. How are you?” he asks as he moves in to embrace me in a familiar and affectionate hug.
Ahead, I look up to see a couple of my coworkers glance back to see who I’m talking to. Jenna’s brows pull together in a disapproving frown before her hair flips back into place, and she continues marching away, her basket swinging by her side.
“I’m good,” I tell Jack as I gently extract myself from his arms. “How have you been? How’s Holly?”
“We’re both doing very well, thank you. But I have a feeling I’ll be singing a different tune in, oh...about five minutes,” he grins, lifting his wrist as though he’s checking his watch.
“How so?”
He pats my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure that out soon enough.” He gives Rebel a knowing look, one that I read to say he’s entrusting him to fill me in later. Little does he know, Rebel and I aren’t that kind of couple. Hell, we’re not a couple at all. I wonder how Jack would feel about me if he knew that I wasn’t with Rebel in the same capacity as we were in Maine. Would he still feel warm and compassionate toward me?
I doubt it. I’ve found that people’s loyalties fall just short of their feet in most cases.
Blinking, my thoughts clear, and I realize I’ve just been standing here in the middle of the hallway looking like a dolt. Thankfully, the time span is much shorter in reality than it is in my head as Jack is just taking his seat at the head of the conference table, filling Rebel’s spot.
Rebel continues to stand in the doorway, watching me with that dark stare of his that seems to see right through me.
“I should get back to work. Excuse me...sir,” I tack on. Rebel’s nostrils flare at the title and, with a soft smile, I give him a subtle tip of my head and turn to catch up with my coworkers. Only to find that they’ve left without me.
Well, crap.
Ten
I’m not a complete pushover, so I disobey Rebel’s orders straight away, instructing Gerardo to disobey direct orders and take me home. He adamantly refuses at first, but when I remind him that to do anything other than what I tell him could be considered kidnapping and I could have him arrested, he wisely does what I ask.
Men. Are they born with an overbearing attitude or what?
While making dinner for myself, which consists of a Hungry Man frozen meal thrown in the microwave for eight minutes on high, I entertain myself with thoughts of what Rebel is doing right this moment. Is he pacing the floors ranting about what a pain in the ass I am? Or is he on his way over to punish me?
A small shiver traces through me at the idea. I’ve always enjoyed a little rough play with him. Rebel is such a strong¸ commanding lover. He knows just what he wants and knows exactly how to take it while making it good for both of us.
But as the clock ticks closer to bedtime and he doesn’t show or call, doubts begin to creep in, and I find myself wondering if he chose to spend his night with Florence since he couldn’t be with me.
It wouldn’t be a stretch. What man, who had two women to choose from, would waste his time chasing after one when he could have the other with a crook of his finger? Florence might play the leader at work, but she’s definitely a submissive outside of it. One look at her is all it takes to know that she would bend over backwards to make Rebel happy.
And that’s just not something that I would ever be willing to do. I won’t give up my identity for anyone. Maybe that’s the draw. Maybe Rebel needs someone who will do what he says, when he says, without argument.
Sadness spills over me because I know I will never be that person for him.
He told me once that I didn’t have to dumb myself down to be with him, and that he liked a challenge. I wonder if that still holds true. I don’t really know what to believe anymore. Just like the day I found out he had a twin brother, I feel like everything has been a lie. Does Rebel want me or not?
Taking my no longer frozen dinner over to the couch, I curl up on the center cushion and flip the television on just in time to catch the second half of Say Yes to the Dress. I don’t even know why I like this show. It’s completely pointless, and yet everyone loves it.
While I watch a woman try on outlandish and sometimes downright garish dresses in search of something daring and with a touch of flare, I find myself thinking about all the good times I’ve shared with Rebel. Most recently being when I flew with him to Maine.
It feels like our relationship—or what we had of one—stood on a precipice that weekend. Only, it didn’t fall in the right direction. Instead, we plummeted backward straight to the cold, hard ground.
Man, I’m depressing to be around today. I can hardly stand to hear my own thoughts. So, I drown them out with mashed potatoes and beef tips and an unhealthy amount of diet soda that I know is just going to spark a craving for something sweet. Well, all I have to say to that is bring it on!
While I’m waiting for a commercial to end and my stomach to settle, I decide to pick up my phone and shoot Annie a quick text because I don’t feel like speaking to another human being tonight. Using my vocal cords feels like too much to deal with right now, so thumb action it is.
What are you and Brody up to tonight?
She res
ponds a few seconds later with a quick:Having an old-fashioned ho down in the backyard with the family. Too bad you’re not here to see all of Brody’s ‘hot’ moves. *laughs hysterically*
Her text is followed up by a picture of Brody in a pair of light wash jeans, a red and black plaid shirt, and a tan cowboy hat that’s tipped low over his brow. He’s in the middle of a two-step, his thumbs hitched inside the waist of his pants. I burst out laughing at the sight, my fingers flying over the buttons.
Haha! I love it. I also HATE it! Looks like y’all are having tons of fun without me *cries*
But not too much fun. Only a very little bit. The bare minimum of fun. *hugs* How are things going up there? Inquiring minds NEED to know.
Shaking my head I type back:It’s going. I’ll let you know more later. Heading to bed now. Been a long day.
Booo! I want lots of details. TTY in the a.m. xoxo
Xoxo
Sighing, I back out of the message and shut my phone down for the night. I hate being so far away from my friends. Even though I’m not in the mood to be around anyone right now, it’s comforting to know that the people I care about aren’t far away. But they are now. It makes me feel...lonely. That’s the only word I have to describe it. Without my anchors here with me, I feel alone. I don’t have anyone to talk to or hang out with, which leaves me with this deafening silence that is slowly driving me mad.
To avoid going stir crazy, I find out what dress the woman picked—a traditional one with floral lace overlay and a sweetheart neckline—and go straight to bed. This day just can’t end fast enough.
***
Unfortunately, the next morning starts way too soon. Darren is busy all morning fielding phone calls. The only interaction I get with him is a smile and hello-wave on my way to my office, and I spend the rest of the morning ironing out who is going to handle what part of the new project with Jenna.
I never realized this about her before, but she’s kind of a bitch. She’s complained for the last four hours about every last detail, even snipping at me whenever I ask her a question. She especially seems to hate it if I make any suggestions that override her idea of what is right. I hate to say it, but I don’t think this is going to work out. If I can’t get along with her now and it’s only Day One, how the hell will I make it through the entire thing?
I understand that she’s upset about having to back off of her other work to do this. I had to make the same sacrifice, but in the end it’s just like Rebel said, this is about teamwork. We work for Donnelly and Townsend, and our job is to make them look as good as possible.
The bottom line is, at least to me, money. At the end of the day, it isn’t about the designs we make or getting recognition for a job well done. Those are all good things, but at the end of the day it’s about the paycheck and being able to make the bills. I take pride in my work, but I’m not interested in being a starving artist.
“I was thinking, if we could get our hands on some photographs of the products, we could incorporate them into the web design.” I’m standing over Jenna’s desk, slightly hunched because she refuses to work anywhere else. Glancing up at her, I wait for her to say something that isn’t bitchy or whiny, but the slight curl of her top lip tells me that I’m not going to get my wish.
“I already thought of that, and no, the pictures she has are crap. They’re unprofessional and low-quality. They’ll never work.”
Straightening, I stretch my spine. “Well, I’m sure if we speak to Mr. Scott”—because I refuse to say a word to Florence short of telling her to burn in hell—“he would be more than willing to hire a professional photographer so we can get some good shots to work with.”
“That’ll just take more time that I don’t have to spend,” she huffs impatiently. “Look, Josephine, I get that you’re new and eager to please,” she says, passing me this look that doesn’t settle right. “But I’ve been here for the better half of ten years. I know how the process works, and I can spot a good account just as well as those suits upstairs. This is just another fad, and spending any more time on it than is absolutely necessary is a waste of all our time and the company’s resources. Take my advice and listen to me when I say that the basics are all that need to be covered here.”
My eyes narrowing, I try to think of something snappy to say back to her, but the only words that come to mind are of the four letter variety. In the interest of keeping the peace, I walk back to my desk deciding that I’ll broach the subject to Rebel the next time I see him. Jenna might not want to put in the effort, but I’ve never done anything half-assed in my life, and I’m not about to start now.
Keeping my distance, I spend the next hour listing ideas for how best to approach this project so that it’s a success. The trick will be doing it without Jenna causing any problems or getting in the way, but that’s probably a tall order. I’m sure the road ahead is going to be filled with potholes.
When the lunch hour rolls around, everyone shuts down their station like clockwork and heads out. Lately, I’m always the last to leave. Today, I wish I had been the first.
Pushing my chair in, I loop my purse over my shoulder with the plan in mind to get to Darren first. I’ve already picked out a place in the city I want to try, and this time it’s going to be my treat. I’m excited to get going, but that excitement evaporates when I crash into a hard male body on my way out the door.
“Umph!” My backside bumps into the doorjamb as I fall backward, but a strong hand quickly grabs hold of my arm, saving me from further embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” I rush out automatically.
“No, I’m sorry. I should be keeping a better eye out for beautiful women barreling out of rooms.”
Lifting my gaze, my mouth flaps open and closed for a moment while I try to get my bearings. It takes me a few seconds to figure out who’s standing before me. “Ransom, what are you doing here?”
He’s in a suit and tie with his black hair slicked back off his forehead, and he looks sharp and sexy as hell, just like his brother. The only thing that separates them in looks right now is the five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw. Rebel was clean-shaven today.
“How do you always know it’s me?” he asks, an amused smile slipping into place.
“Oh, please. You might be identical twins, but once I got to know you both, the differences were pretty simple to pick out,” I lie. There is nothing different about these men. They are like carbon copies of one another. I swear if Rebel were to disappear into thin air tomorrow, Ransom could easily slip into his place and no one would ever know the difference.
Ransom’s eyes narrow, taking on a glimmer of doubt. “Even my own mother can’t tell us apart most of the time, and she’s known us our whole lives. She’s still mourning the loss of color coded clothing.”
“Ah, but has she been in both of your beds?” I ask, brows elevated. I doubt it would make a difference anyway. I mean, there is a difference when it comes to how these men react in the bedroom, but it requires being in the bedroom to figure that out.
“I’m not touching that one,” Ransom chuckles. “The reason I’m stopping by today is to ask you to lunch, and it looks like I’m just in time,” he says, his gaze roaming over me.
I feel my expression pinch and I see Ransom’s enthusiasm diminish. “I’m sorry, Ransom. I usually go out with my friend for lunch, and I was just heading out to get him.”
“Him?” Ransom frowns. “Are you sure it’s just a friend, or...” He lets his words trail off, leaving me to finish the thought.
“Just a friend, yes,” I confirm. “I’m not ready to jump back into the dating pool right now.” I hope that he hears the message in there, because I know Ransom is here fishing for another chance. After telling him that Rebel and I are no longer dating, I had a feeling he might look at it as an opportunity.
Ransom proves just as smart as I thought he was. “Well, why don’t we all go together then?”
“The three of us? I don’t know...”
“What�
��s not to know? It’s just three friends having lunch together. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”
“He’s my friend, not yours,” I correct him. “Don’t you think that would be kind of like a third wheel?”
“I promise,” Ransom says, pressing his hand over his heart, “that I’ll do my best to make him feel comfortable and welcome.”
I laugh, knowing he’s not serious. But I also know that he isn’t going to give up. Ransom wants to tag along, and as long as I don’t play into this attraction he still harbors for me, and, in all truthfulness, I still have for him, then I can’t see the harm.
“Fine, okay,” I say, throwing my hands up. “You can come if Darren says it’s okay with him.”
“Are you talking about the gay guy at reception?”
Leading the way down toward the waiting room and Darren, I toss a surprised look over my shoulder. “You know him?”
“If saying hello when I came in counts, sure.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “How did you know he was gay if you only said one word to him?”
“It was pretty obvious,” he says, casting me a look that makes me wonder if I’m just incredibly obtuse or if he’s just that observant.
“Well, I’m glad you don’t seem to be put off by it. He’s a really great person once you get to know him.”
“Why would I be put off? It’s not as if he’s any different than you and me. I don’t care who he chooses to spend his time with, especially if I can work it in my favor. You said he’s the one I need to convince in order to tag along? Prepare to gain a third wheel, my dear.”
We reach the end of the hall and, from this vantage point, I see Darren finishing up a phone call from behind the desk. Straightening his tie, Ransom gives me a playful yet confident wink-slash-smile combo and heads straight for him. Me? I stand aside and watch the man go to work with an amused grin on my face.
Fall for Him Page 7
