by Linda Kage
When he turned back to me slowly, jaw stiff and expression blanketed with irritation, I blurted out a laugh and said, “Whoops. I totally didn’t mean to startle you into dropping that. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t answer, just blinked at me a moment before furrowing his brow and glancing around. “What’re you even doing here?”
“Oh.” I blinked and pulled back because he seemed really displeased about my presence. “I—I asked Mr. Draper if I could come in today and file a few things. Is—do you—I mean, is that not okay? He said it would be fine, but—”
“It’s fine.” He shook his head and closed his eyes, grimacing, which let me know it wasn’t fine at all. “I just thought I’d be free of him today.” Blowing out a breath, he reopened his lashes and gave me one of those tight smiles that wasn’t actually a smile at all. “That’s the reason I work a lot of Tuesdays through Saturdays. So I can have more days free from him.”
“You do?” I hadn’t realized he worked on any Saturday. Crud. I might’ve rethought my idea about coming in today if I’d known he would be here. Not that I didn’t want to see him—I’d been thinking about him a lot since hugging him at the theater. But I was pretty confident that he didn’t want to see me. His chilliness toward me these past few weeks around the office made that pretty evident, anyway.
I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong either. He’d been pleasant and fine during the entire movie and even when he’d walked me to my car afterward. And the hug had been epic. But now…
If I only knew what was wrong, maybe I could fix it.
“Yes,” Gracen was saying to me now. “I do.”
It took me a moment to catch up and remember what we’d been discussing. And when I did, I blinked, surprised to learn he didn’t care for his co-owner much at all if he purposely worked certain days of the week just to avoid him.
Wow.
Mr. Draper gave me a creepy vibe sometimes too, but he’d been really nice and understanding to me so far, so I couldn’t really complain about him.
It was a shock to learn Gracen didn’t like someone, though. He’d always seemed like one of those people who got along with everyone.
“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling like a moron. “Well, I don’t think you have to worry about Mr. Draper coming in. I’m just organizing a few things at my own desk. The filing system in my cubicle was a complete mess. So there’s no reason for him to—”
“Trust me,” Gracen said with acidic ire. “If he knows you’re here, he won’t be far behind.”
I pulled back, alarmed and confused by his words. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled and picked up a new packet of sugar to give it a savage snap before he ripped it open and dumped it into his drink. But as soon as he picked up a stirring stick, he glanced back at me, one eyebrow raised.
“You really think those emojis mean booty call?”
I shrugged and made a face, waiting for him to finish stirring and picking up his cup so I could have my crack at the coffee station. “What else would it mean?”
“Good point.” He expelled a long breath. “She is seeing someone, then,” he mumbled to himself before focusing on me. “My sister,” he explained.
“Ah…” I nodded, trying to be polite before adding, “Good for her.”
I had worried about how Bella had coped with everything and moved on after—well, after. It was nice to hear she’d found someone else.
Gracen sliced me with a scowl, however. It must be hard for him to believe I truly cared about her happiness.
“No,” he growled. “Not fine. She’s hiding this prick from me. Why the hell would she hide a relationship? I’ve never made a fuss about any guy she’s dated before. Just what is so wrong with him that she thinks even I wouldn’t approve? I approve of everyone!”
Except, obviously, Mr. Draper.
Ooh! What if his sister was sneaking around with Mr. Draper?
As if reading the thought off my face, Gracen said, “What?”
I snapped my gaze to him, not about to share my theory. Brightening into an innocent grin, I lifted my mug. “Nothing. I only came here for coffee.”
“Oh.” He blinked, then stepped to the side, out of my path. “Shit, sorry. I’m blocking your way, aren’t I? I think Conner did brew some coffee. Smells like it, anyway. Here you go.”
“Thank you,” I told him as I stepped past. “But there was no need to rush. Today feels like a lazy, relaxed day, so I’m in no hurry.”
He frowned and drew in a slow breath as I brushed by, only to pause and tilt his head as something in my hair caught his notice.
“Do you have pink highlights?”
“What?” I blinked at the random question and lifted my hand to my blond locks. “Uh, yeah,” I answered hesitantly, pulling slightly back when he stepped forward to frown as he inspected them as if he was displeased by what he saw. “Why?” Then I paled. “Oh God. Is there a dress code against pink highlights?”
That would be just my luck.
“No. No dress code.” His eyes squinted tighter. “And there’s a few green as well, aren’t there?”
“Blue,” I corrected, then flushed and rolled my eyes. “They’re supposed to be blue, but they start to look green when they begin to wash out.”
“Wash out,” he repeated on a thoughtful murmur. This seemed to trouble him even more. “So you’ve had them a while?”
“Yeah. I guess. Why?” I repeated.
“Did you have them at the theater?”
I blinked, startled that he was going to even mention the theater. When I’d been introduced to him on my first day, one would think he had no memory of our two run-ins at the theater at all.
“I think so,” I said, only to come back around to, “Why? What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing. They’re…” He fumbled for a word before settling with, “Nice. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“I didn’t see them before,” he finally confessed as if that was a big problem.
“Probably because it was dark,” I allowed since he seemed so upset about not noticing my hair highlights.
“And you had your hair up both times,” he added softly.
I nodded. “Yeah. That too.”
“Hmm.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head before turning away as if to leave the breakroom.
“Do you have some kind of problem with colored hair?” I asked his departing back.
He paused and then turned around, leaning against the doorjamb as he took me in speculatively. “No. Not at all,” he finally said. “I just thought you were different is all. You came across a certain way. And now I learn that you’re not like that at all. And it just feels as if I’ve been…” He shrugged and glanced around the room. “I don’t know—deceived.”
“Deceived?” I frowned, thinking that was a mighty strong word for accidentally surprising someone with a new hair color. Unless he was talking about something else entirely, like the reason he’d grown so cold toward me. So I stepped toward him and baldly asked, “What exactly do you think I deceived you about?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled and turned away. “Forget I said anything.”
I caught his arm. “Hey. If you thought something about me and learned it wasn’t true, that’s your own fault for assuming. I never set out to deceive anyone.”
He hissed out a breath through his teeth and turned it into a groan before thumping his head back and against the doorjamb before reluctantly admitting, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Oh, I knew I was right. There was only one thing I hadn’t told him that might change his perception of me, but I seriously doubted it’d give him this kind of reaction.
“So are you going to tell me what you’re talking about? And don’t say hair. I know that doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
He smiled and took a drink from his cup, his blue-gray eyes sparkling with mischief. When he lowered the mug, ho
wever, he said, “Nope. I’m not saying anything else.” And he slid backward out of the breakroom so he could escape and disappear down the walkway away from me.
“Coward,” I muttered under my breath.
But for some reason, I also felt better because now I knew there was a specific reason he’d iced up on me. And he was willing to admit I hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve it. Hmph.
Now, if he’d just talk to me again as he had at the theater, life would be good.
That was probably too much to ask for, though.
Oh well. I was still going to celebrate the chipper mood it had put me in. I’d been confident and I’d confronted him without backing down. Hell, if anything, I’d made him back down. Parker was going to be so proud of me. He’d call it progress, I just knew he would.
I was still glowing with triumph as I returned to my desk with a full cup.
“Hey, El?”
Lurching in surprise, I nearly spilled coffee all over my blouse as my boss popped out of his office.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest.
Because, oh my God, how had Gracen known he’d show up?
“Sorry about that,” he said, stepping forward to grab my arm in concern. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course.” I pulled my arm free because it certainly hadn’t been that big of a fright. “Sorry, I just didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“Ah. Well, surprise.” He flashed another big grin and spread his arms wide.
I sent him a small, hesitant smile in return.
Yeah. Surprise.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you had the Zimle file on you.”
“I do,” I told him, hurrying past to set my coffee on the edge of my desk before scurrying around it to start sorting through the mess on top. “Sorry, it’s somewhere in here, I know.” I offered him a reassuring smile so he wouldn’t think I was incompetent. “That’s why I wanted to come in today, so I could make some order out of this chaos.”
“Hey, it’s no problem,” he told me easily. “Take your time.”
See, Gracen was totally wrong about him. Mr. Draper was a nice guy.
I fumbled in my rush, wanting to please him with my awesome secretarial skills. But after shuffling through everything on my desk, and not finding the file he was looking for, I knew I wasn’t coming across as very competent at all.
Shit.
I held up a finger, hoping he’d stay patient and nonjudgmental just a moment longer. “Maybe it was one of the ones I already filed.”
Turning away, I studied the filing cabinet a second before realizing I’d need the bottom drawer. So I bent down to open it and shifted my nails over the named tabs along the top, only to jump when someone goosed me.
Or so I thought.
“Oh!” I popped upright and spun around because it seriously had felt like someone had pinched the back of my skirt. But when I re-faced my boss, he was still standing a few feet back.
With a frown, I glanced around before focusing on him again.
“Did you just—”
Oh Lord, how did you ask your boss if he’d messed with your ass?
“Hmm?” he asked, lifting his brows in innocent question.
A little too innocently for my peace of mind.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, frowning because it felt like I was losing my mind. “Sorry. I’ll just…”
I started to turn back toward the cabinet, but Mr. Draper lifted a finger. “You know. I might have the file in my office after all. Why don’t we head in there and look for it?”
Um…
What?
One: I was sure I’d seen the file on my desk this morning.
But two: we both did not need to look for it in his office. Limbs flooding with cold dread, I paused, not sure how to answer. Was it okay to tell your superior no to such a simple-sounding request? And what if he asked why I was refusing? I couldn’t tell him it was because he was giving me a sudden, serious case of heebie-jeebies. That would be rude.
Oh God. I wasn’t sure how to handle this.
Reading the panic on my face, he stepped forward and softened his voice, saying, “Hey, hey. Relax. It’s okay.” He reached out and patted the side of my arm. “Everything’s fine. I’ll take care of you.”
Take care of me?
Warning bells gonged through my system. I was confident I didn’t even want to know what that meant.
I started to pull back, but his grip on my arm tightened, keeping me there.
Not cool. Totally not cool.
“No one ever has to know,” he whispered as he reached up with his free hand to touch my cheek. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Eww!
I reacted on instinct, striking out with a balled fist and aiming for his face. Except I missed and kind of caught him in the windpipe instead, hitting him as hard as I could.
He immediately let go of me, choking and grabbing his throat, trying to find air.
“Oh my God!” I cried as I slapped my hands over my mouth, hoping I hadn’t accidentally killed him.
From behind me, a nearby voice yelped, “Holy shit.”
I whirled, totally caught in the act, and merely gaped guiltily at Gracen, unable to formulate words as I tried to explain what happened. “He—he—”
Oh great. Panic filled my throat.
An attack seemed inevitable.
Black spots danced in my eyes. I think I was having as hard a time attempting to breathe as my boss was. I pointed at him, hoping that would somehow clear things up.
Gracen recovered from his shock first. Shaking the surprise from his expression, he turned all business and curled a finger at me, beckoning me forward.
“Miss Nicksen.” He sounded like a principal who’d been called in to reprimand a child. “Come with me.” Then he speared a lethal glare toward Mr. Draper. “And you.” He pointed threateningly. “Don’t go far.”
He cast me another hard look before turning away. I fell into step behind him as he marched back to his office, calling someone on his phone as he went.
When whoever was on the other end answered, he said, “You need to come in. Right now,” and he hung up again.
I drew in a big bolstering breath as Gracen held open the door to his office and motioned me to enter ahead of him. Then he followed me in and closed us alone inside.
I gulped, certain I was about to be fired for striking my boss. Before I could stop myself, I whirled to him, blurting, “It wasn’t my fault. He—he—”
“I saw what he did,” Gracen said evenly. “I saw the whole damn thing.”
Okay.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, though. He’d looked pretty mad at Mr. Draper. But he didn’t seem to be very happy with me, either. Was I in trouble here or not?
“Well, if you’re going to reprimand me for hurting him, then just get it over with already,” I muttered irritably, unable to handle waiting for him to react. “Because I might not have meant to hit him so hard, but I don’t regret what I did. He shouldn’t have gotten handsy with me. I don’t care if you think I deserved it for stupidly bending over in front of him. I—”
“Why in God’s name would I think you deserved that?” Gracen cried incredulously.
“You told me my looks caused men to—”
“The fuck if I did! That isn’t even in the ballpark of what I said. I have no idea why assholes are such assholes. And Art Draper is a grade-A, all-American asshole. It didn’t matter if you’d come to work in a thong and fucking nipple tassels and started doing yoga in front of him. He had no right to grab your ass. At all. And for your information, the only reason I brought you in here was to ask if you were okay. Not to reprimand you.”
He was furious by the time he finished his rant, and it looked like a vein might pop on his neck. But strangely, I wasn’t scared of him. I did feel cruddy about trying to lump him into the same category as Mr. Draper, though. I knew he wasn’t like the assholes of the world. My instin
cts had always known he was nothing but safe and compassionate, no matter what I accused him of.
So I crossed my arms tightly over my chest as my chin began to tremble uncontrollably. “Of course, I’m not okay,” I muttered. “My boss just fucking groped me.”
Then my throat closed over and tears watered my eyes. “What am I doing wrong? Why do I keep drawing these jerks to me and letting them get away with thinking they can just—that they can—”
“You’re too nice,” he answered softly, his eyes finally filling with sympathetic kindness. “Politeness is so ingrained into your system that you’d rather implode than be rude to someone and tell them to fuck off when they deserve it. So they push your boundaries and keep pushing until they get what they want.”
“Well...” I frowned up at him mutinously. “That just sucks. Why do I have to be the one to change and become something else—something hard and rude and all back-the-hell-off—just because they’re handsy and inconsiderate and—and—”
I shook my head and shuddered, wiping at my cheeks, absolutely hating this. Why did some people purposely put you in an uncomfortable situation just because they could? That shouldn’t be right. I liked being nice. I shouldn’t have to feel shitty and weak for simply being the way I wanted to be.
“I hope you don’t change,” Gracen murmured softly. “I kind of like you the way you are. And as I recall, you didn’t exactly let Draper walk all over you out there, either. You punched the asshole in the throat.”
A crazed laugh bubbled out of me. “Oh God, I really did, didn’t I?” I really hadn’t meant to. I hadn’t even wanted to. But I kind of admired what I’d done too.
Gracen nodded. “You did. It was epic.”
“It was a far cry from the panic attack I nearly had with the jerk at the theater, huh?”
“I think my jaw hit the floor the moment he crumpled in front of you.”
I laughed again because I’d done it. I’d finally defended myself to my own satisfaction. Parker was going to be so proud.
But then the aftereffects finally hit, and a tremble seized me, followed by another. Before I knew it, I was sinking into a chair and weeping uncontrollably.
Chapter Thirteen
