In the Eye of the Storm

by Samantha Chase

  He strode from the room and Holly peeled off her wet coat and was about to place it on the upholstered lounge chair that sat invitingly in the corner but then thought better of it – fearful of ruining it. Glancing around for a better option, she walked in to the bathroom and just hung it over the shower curtain rod. She came out of the bathroom just as Stephen was walking in with a small pile of clothes.

  “I figured you might want something other than wet sweats to sleep in. There’s a t-shirt here, a flannel shirt, dry sweat pants…I wasn’t sure what you would be most comfortable in so I just grabbed a variety.” He looked nervously at her as if he were handing her a hand-grenade rather than pajamas.

  “That was very kind of you, thank you,” she said as she took the clothes from him and turned to place them on the bed. Turning to wish him goodnight, Holly found him rooted to the spot staring at her. They stood that way for countless minutes with only the ticking of an antique clock that was sitting on top of the dressing table before Holly finally whispered the words to him. It had been a long night and having Stephen staring at her, had Holly feeling funny. Surely it must be the exhaustion making her feel so…so…weird. Him, too, she thought, because Stephen never stared at her. Ever.

  Stephen nodded and pivoted towards the door. With a hand on the handle he began to walk out and close it behind him when he stopped. Holly was still standing next to the bed. “The fight was about you,” he said quietly and closed the door. There was no malice in the statement, no accusation or blame; he was merely answering her earlier question.

  Holly wanted nothing more than to go after him and demand to know what exactly that meant. Why would he fight with his two best friends about her? She got along very well with both Will and Derek. What could they possibly fight about? But as much as her curiosity demanded to know, her sleep-deprived body won the battle of wills and forced her to change in to the t-shirt Stephen had given her. Even though she had gone through her bedtime routine hours earlier, Holly felt the need to wash her face and brush her teeth one more time before taking on the task of moving the mountain of pillows so that she could crawl between the cool, silky sheets.

  The whole time she moved about, her thoughts stayed focused on Stephen’s last words to her. God how she hated to be left hanging like that! Like it wasn’t enough that she had trudged all over the place for him tonight? He had to go and drop a bomb like that and just leave? She glanced at the door for what seemed like the tenth time and then resigned herself to the inevitable - Her answers would have to wait until tomorrow morning.

  Pulling back the plush comforter, she climbed in to the bed. Snuggling in to the pillows and in to a comfortable position, her final thoughts were of the look of sadness on Stephen’s face as he had closed the door tonight.

  What had that been about? The man who she had dealt with in the last hour was hardly the confident, powerful man she worked with every day. What could have possibly happened tonight to cause such a drastic change in his demeanor?

  If Holly could have stayed awake to analyze it anymore, she would have. But the comfort of the bed and the extreme sleepiness took their toll. She was unsure of the time before sleep claimed her.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning Holly awoke well rested but slightly confused about her surroundings. It did not take long, however, for it all to come back to her with blazing clarity and she groaned with remembrance. Stephen. The rain. The fight. The look.

  That stupid, sad look.

  Dammit.

  Stretching lazily, Holly looked over at the clock and gasped when she realized it was after ten. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had slept in so late on a Saturday. Well, that was usually because Stephen had her on the phone by eight a.m. with some sort of project idea that he had come up with the night before. Honestly, didn’t the man’s brain ever rest?

  Apparently it had this morning because he hadn’t bothered her. Okay, maybe his brain hadn’t rested but he was being polite enough to let her sleep in. Was he even awake yet? Holly kicked off the blankets and jumped at the sound of thunder as she padded her way to the bathroom. In her exhaustion the night before, she had not taken in the opulence of it all – a marbled double vanity, a deep and wide garden tub, a shower that looked like it could bathe four people with a double shower head! It was like staying at a five star hotel!

  Stripping out of the t-shirt Stephen had given her to sleep in, she grabbed some towels, stacked them outside of the shower and climbed in. The hot water spray felt heavenly. The soaps and shampoo were all brand new and from one of those designer bath shops that Holly never could afford to shop in. Feeling completely decadent, she lathered up from head to toe – twice! – before getting out of the shower and drying off.

  She put the soft and fluffy spa-quality robe on while she brushed her teeth and went in search of a blow dryer to try and do something with her hair. With thick hair that went past her shoulders, it would take forever to dry on its own; she most definitely needed to dry it with more than a towel. Finding one under the sink, she did the best she could without her usual styling products and brushes and less than thrilled with the results, she put the dryer back where she found it.

  A quick look through her purse found a small variety of make up. Luckily there had even been moisturizer in the well-stocked bathroom so by the time she put last night’s sweats back on – which luckily were now dry – she felt almost like her normal self. One last look in the mirror told her what she already knew: under normal circumstances, she would never, ever, go out in public like this. But with no other choice, Holly straightened the room, grabbed her jacket and headed out of the door and down the stairs in search of Stephen.

  At the bottom of the curved wooden staircase, Holly heard the sounds of plates being moved around. If that hadn’t drawn her attention, the enticing smell of food would have helped her find her mark. Silently walking in to the kitchen, she expected to find the housekeeper there making the food that was causing her stomach to growl. Instead, she found Stephen. The sight

  of him dressed casually in flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt with his jet black hair still mussed from sleep and a days worth of stubble on his chin had Holly’s mouth going dry. The normally impeccably dressed in a suit and tie Stephen who, in her opinion, looked like he was born to wear that ensemble, suddenly looked even better in his morning attire.

  Shaking her head clear of those wayward thoughts, she cleared her throat to get Stephen’s attention. “Good morning,” she said and he replied in kind.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked as he popped a couple of slices of bread in to the stainless steel toaster on the counter. “I didn’t want to wake you but I was ravenous.”

  “Sure. What are we having?”

  “Breakfast is the only meal that I can cook and, if I do say so myself, I cook it well. I’ve got all of the makings of any kind of omelets you could want.”

  Holly raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Okay,” she walked over to the butcher block island where he had all of his ingredients laid out and took it all in. “I think I’ll have…hmmm…I think I’ll go with a Western one if that’s not too much trouble.”

  In response, Stephen held up the omelet pan that was already on the stove. “Great minds think alike,” he said with a smile and Holly felt he stomach dip. Had he always had that dimple? “Coffee’s already made.” He pointed to the coffee maker at the end of the counter. “Mugs are in the cabinet right above it.”

  Without a word, Holly helped herself and, as was habit, made his as well. They worked together in silence and within minutes they were seated at the table overlooking the massive yard through the bay window.

  “I cannot believe that it’s still raining,” Holly said after thanking Stephen for the plate he handed her. “I thought for sure it would have moved on by now.”

  “I watched the weather report this morning and according to TV5, it’s going to be like
this all weekend with the worst of it hitting this afternoon.”

  Nearly choking on her food, Holly said, “Really?”

  He nodded while sipping his coffee. “Fraid so. I don’t think anyone expected the storm front to stall over us.” He nodded towards her plate which he’d loaded not only with the requested Western omelet, but home fries and toast. “How’s your breakfast?”

  “Oh…um, everything’s great. Thank you.” Sighing, Holly looked out the window, dreading the drive home in this weather. “So why breakfast?” she asked, desperate to keep the conversation neutral and avoid actually looking at him. For some reason, sitting here in Stephen’s kitchen, having him cook for her in his pajamas just seemed way too intimate for comfort. The faster she ate, the faster she could go out in to that miserable weather, go home and stop fantasizing about other intimate activities she’d like to engage in right about now.

  “I just figured you’d be hungry…”

  She laughed. “No, I mean, why can you only cook breakfast? Most people when they say something like that, it usually means they can make toast or instant oatmeal. But this,” she nodded her head towards all of the food on the table, “is clearly more than that. This is a feast! I can’t remember the last time I had such a decadent breakfast. But really, I would have been just fine with some instant oatmeal.”

  “Ah. Gotcha. My mom used to make big breakfasts on the weekends. After my father died, she had to work two jobs all week long and the only time we really spent together was on the weekends. I used to make sure that I got up early with her and we would make breakfast together, just the two of us. She didn’t believe in being lazy so I had to be an active participant in the making of the meal.”

  “Wow, impressive!”

  “Not at first. I thought it was girl-stuff to cook like that so at first I tried to mess up so that she would let me just sit and watch. But she caught on to my scheme pretty quick and made me eat whatever I cooked.” Holly laughed. “I figured that if I really wanted to eat something edible, I was going to have to pay attention and get better at it. Burnt pancakes and eggs with shells in them are as bad tasting as they sound.”

  “That is a very sweet story,” Holly said. She nibbled on her whole wheat toast. “My whole family loves to cook. We spend hours in the kitchen concocting things. My parents had their own café for years up on Long Island. I always thought I would do the same but I enjoy cooking much more when it’s not a career.” She paused at that thought. “You know, I can’t even remember the last time I actually took the time to really get in to cooking a meal.” Shaking her head, she added, “I’m going to have to remedy that.”

  “What made you stop? I mean, I know it’s not as much fun just cooking for one but…” he asked, sincerely curious.

  “Oh, no, it’s not that, it’s just that…well,” she hesitated, “our work schedule really doesn’t allow me to come home and cook. You know, we eat dinner most nights in the office. Why would I come home and cook dinner at nine o’clock at night after already eating with you earlier?”

  He had the good sense enough to look sheepish. “Sorry. What about on the weekends? Why not cook then?”

  Placing her fork down, she looked at him pleadingly, not really wanting to say any of this. “You normally call each morning and talk to me all through breakfast and then I spend the rest of the day trying to do the things that I need to do for my life.” Stephen actually paled.

  Unfortunately, Holly realized that this would be the perfect opening to clear the air of all that was said in the car the night before – or rather, earlier. She slowly finished chewing her last forkful of home fries, lingered over the last drop of coffee, and even went so far as to play around with her place setting before actually chancing a glance at her boss and speaking what was on her mind. “Look, Stephen, I think we need to talk about some things.”

  Taking a last drink from his coffee mug, Stephen set it down and then stood to clear the table. “I know, I know,” he said wearily. “I had no idea you were so unhappy working for me, Holly.”

  “It’s not that I’m unhappy, I never said that,” she began. “It’s just that, I need a life outside of work. I didn’t realize how much I was resenting that until last night.” And now. “You just made me so mad that I guess everything just came to the surface.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that you couldn’t have a life,” he snapped as he dropped the plates in to the sink.

  Getting defensive at his tone, she replied, “No, you never told me that I couldn’t have a life but you sure make it hard to! I don’t go out during the week to see friends because I’m too tired from the long day. I don’t sleep in on the weekends because you’re calling me first thing in the morning. I know that your business is very important to you, Stephen, and you are very good at what you do but it’s not my company or my business and it certainly isn’t my life. I want to go out and not worry about staying out too late and being woken up early on my day off. I want to socialize with people. I want to date!” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “What if I hadn’t been alone last night?”

  “What?”

  “What if I had been otherwise occupied with a man last night? Do you think I would have just left him in bed to come and get you?”

  “Were you in bed with a man last night?”

  Holly sighed with frustration. “Of course I wasn’t in bed with a man last night! I wouldn’t be here now if I was! Geez, did you not see where I was going with this?” The man was clueless. “What I am trying to say here is what would you have done if I was not available to help you?”

  “But you were.”

  “But what if I wasn’t?”

  “But you were,”

  “Stephen!” she yelled. “Stop being obtuse for a moment! Why didn’t you just call a cab? Or George?”

  It was as if she had flipped a switch, so fast and so sure was the change in him. Where he had been calm and casual, he now stalked like a caged animal. He ran his hands through his jet black hair as he prowled the length of the kitchen. In normal circumstances, Stephen was intimidating by his size alone; standing at a little over six feet tall, he was built like an athlete. But seeing him now, clearly angered, he seemed to have doubled in size. “You know, Holly, I think I kind of liked it more when you’re not so pushy and argumentative,” he snapped.

  Totally taken aback, Holly opened her mouth to speak but Stephen held up a hand to silence her. “Oh, no. You have had a lot to say in the last twelve hours and you’ve been poking and picking and prodding for answers, so here they are!”

  He started off telling Holly of how Derek and Will had shown up at the office not long after she had left the night before. “I guess you must have just missed them because it could not have been more than a matter of minutes after you left,” he said. “The plans were to just find someplace casual to go and just hang out like we used to do when we were younger – nothing fancy, just a night out with the guys.”

  Stephen stared out the window at the rain pounding the deck as he continued. He had no idea how they had ended up at McGavin’s but once there, they put their rich-boy attitudes aside and decided to just go with it and have a couple of beers and maybe shoot a couple of games of pool or darts. “I started telling them about the new Gideon project that you and I were going to be working on and Will made the comment on how I work you too hard.” Stephen turned around abruptly; his eyes bore in to the top of Holly’s head as she looked at the ground. “You felt comfortable enough to tell Will that I worked you too hard but not me. Why?”

  She looked up then. “I didn’t tell Will any such thing.” She sighed. “Remember last week when he came to the office to have lunch with you and your conference call ran long?

  Well, he sat with me out in the office and asked what my plans were for the weekend and when I told him, he looked at me like he felt sorry for me.”

  “Why? What were your plans?”

  “Cleaning house. Balancing my checkbook. Basic
things that most people do during the week but what I do on the weekends because it’s the only time that I can.” Saying the words out loud made her feel lousy about herself all over again. “He asked me why I wasn’t going out on a date or to a movie with friends and I just sort of shrugged; I had no excuse except I was too tired to.”

  Stephen stalked away and began to pace again as he talked. “Anyway, we were shooting pool and I argued that I do not work you too hard. Will snorted, Derek laughed. So I asked what his problem was and he made a snarky comment that maybe if I had a social life, I’d get out of the office once in a while.”

  Holly looked at him quizzically. “What’s the big deal about that?”

  “I’m trying to not be crude here, Holly. He didn’t word it quite that way…”

  “Oh.”

  “So I told that my sex life or lack thereof at the moment, was none of his business. But he kept going at it like a dog with a bone. ‘You need to get out more’; ‘You need to get laid more’. Honestly, sex is Derek’s answer to everything.” Needing to stop the pacing, Stephen began cleaning up the breakfast mess. “Will told him to back off and I thought we were through with it when he looked at me and said that maybe I wasn’t interested in getting laid because I had you around.”

  “What?” Holly wheezed. She had always liked Stephen’s friends but out of the two, Derek was certainly a little more vulgar and harder on the senses. The fact that he would think such a thing about her hurt her feelings but didn’t really surprise her. “Why would he think that?”

  “Like I said, he figured that the only reason I’d not be out screwing around and staying around the office with you was because we were screwing around.”

  “Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Holly said, pulling at some imaginary spot on her sweatpants.