"There's no problem," Jules said, shaking her head. "I just... work is important to me. I would never mess that up."
"So you can't ring the devil's doorbell to the idea of Kai in your head because it might mess up work? Doll, of all these mens' varied skills, mind-reading is not one," Miller informed her with a smirk.
"The devil's doorbell?" Jules latched onto, lips twitching.
"Mhmm. And you know what they say..."
"No, what do they say?"
"If you keep ringing it, eventually he's gonna come."
To that, she got a full on laugh, a light, musical sound, one you didn't often hear from Jules.
Except, of course, when Kai was getting it out of her.
She let the subject go, knowing that if she pried too hard, Jules would lock down tight, and she'd never get anything out of her again.
Besides, she had gotten what she had wanted.
She got her to admit that Kai was cute and interesting. And worthy of attention.
If Miller knew her - and she thought she did - she suspected that the only reason Jules never gave Kai serious consideration - the work ethic thing aside - was because he didn't check all the boxes she had in her head somewhere.
Jules was all about her boxes.
Hell, even after all this time, Miller still caught her actually checking off a daily to-do list before going home at night.
Kai was clearly missing a few of her boxes.
It was a damn shame that she was too stubborn to realize how much fun could be had with a guy who seemed completely wrong for you on paper, but was oh so right in real life.
FOUR
Jules
I like Miley Cyrus.
There.
It's out there.
And not the cool, edgy, naked on a wrecking ball, licking various objects with a short haircut Miley Cyrus.
I mean cowboy-booted, All-American girl up on a truck bed singing Party in the USA Miley.
I maybe even had a dance to go with it.
Okay, fine.
I totally had a dance to go with it.
And I sang it in my hairbrush too many times to mention.
And the reason I was thinking this in the car on the way to my fake fiancé's work, you might be wondering?
Because of the man sitting beside me.
See, he didn't know about my deep, dark Miley guilty pleasure.
He didn't know I binge ate Ritz crackers in my car when I was stressed.
Or that I sometimes taped two of my toes together to keep my feet from hurting during long work days in heels.
Or that I sometimes had a slight obsession with my extraction tool, making my face all red and splotchy for half a day while it recovered.
He didn't know all that stuff.
The silly stuff.
The ugly stuff.
He saw one very small part of the picture from a distance. Not up close where you could see all the brushstrokes, all the little mistakes, all the smudges.
I knew what everyone thought, what they even said when they thought I couldn't hear.
That Kai was in love with me.
I wasn't blind.
I had seen his crush-like behavior since I first started working for Quin.
But that was what it was.
A crush.
Puppy love.
You couldn't love someone until you got to know all about them. And he didn't know all about me. He knew just the surface.
That being said, I was only human. My body reacted to things that my mind didn't get a chance to mull over.
So when he got soft and sweet, when he said the exact right things at the exact right times, it impacted me. It sent a shiver through my belly. It made that chest-tightening thing happen.
And today, today he had been full of the right words, the right looks, the right touches.
More right than anyone else could have been.
He was good at that.
Knowing what I needed to hear.
He was good at it all.
My mom was obsessed with a book about love languages, swearing it was the sole thing that helped revamp her marriage when it - inevitably, it seemed - started to get a bit stale after a couple decades. And I had sat and listened to her go on and on about how my dad showed love through physical touch and giving gifts and that she gave it through words of affirmation and physical touch. And that the reason they went stagnant was because they didn't 'speak the same language.' So once they learned to speak it, everything changed.
Because I had heard so much about it, I had this knee-jerk ability to see it in everyone, even if I wasn't sure I bought into it.
And Kai?
Kai showed love in all the ways. Affirmations, touch, time, gifts, and service.
It was so much.
So incredibly much.
Maybe even too much.
Even if I truly believed he loved me for me - not some image he had of me in his head - I wasn't sure I could accept that much love. I wasn't sure I had it within me to hold onto it all.
"Jules?" Kai's voice called, snapping me out of my wandering thoughts, making me realize the car was stopped, the engine just idling. "You want me to go alone?" he asked, misreading the moment, my absent-ness.
"No," I objected immediately, voice a little off. "They know me. I can get in without it raising too many eyebrows."
"It's a Sunday, honey," he reminded me. "No one will be here except maybe some security guards."
Right.
What was wrong with me that I hadn't realized that myself?
I felt like my brain was in this thick, toxic fog, like nothing could break through.
I hated not being on my game.
I hated feeling like I was behind, frantically trying to catch up.
That wasn't the image I wanted to project.
I worked so hard never to come off as someone unprepared or low to pick things up.
It had been a long day.
And it was barely the afternoon.
I was just drained - physically, emotionally, and, let's face it... financially.
I would feel better once we had some answers, once I knew the situation wasn't completely hopeless.
"How are you going to get in then?" I heard myself ask, watching as what could only be called a sly smile pulled at his lips, a look that said Come on now, Jules. "Oh, right," I said, nodding.
So, this was how I would become a felon.
What a wild day.
If you had told me twenty-four hours ago that everything I knew myself to be - careful, safe, smart, and law-abiding, would be completely ripped away from me, I would have had a good laugh. Likely a much-needed one. But also a completely disbelieving one.
But there I was, following Kai to a side entrance, watching him jimmy open a lock, leading us easily up a stairwell to the floor I told him Gary worked on.
"What about the cameras?" I heard my worried voice ask when we got to the door to the floor.
"This isn't some big operation. They would likely only watch them if there was something wrong. Since we won't be triggering anything or taking anything, there would be no reason to check them."
I suddenly felt foolish for the idea in my head of some guy sitting in the basement surrounded by half a dozen security cameras, one hand poised over the phone, ready to call the cops, and have us hauled in for breaking and entering.
That was a situation even Quin might not be able to fix.
I guess - as much as I did know - there was still a lot to learn.
Hopefully, though, not firsthand.
I was a lot of things.
A adrenaline junkie was not one of them.
And, I was convinced, there had to be a part of you that was drawn to that to be able to live the lifestyle Quin and his team did. Even people like Finn and Kai who you would never normally think that of. They were drawn to this not only because Finn had a skill for cleaning and Kai had a innate ability to talk his way into and out of any situat
ion.
They lived their lives constantly flirting with danger, with threats from bad people and the 'good guys' in equal turns.
A hand closed around my wrist, gentle but insistent, tugging me forward, yet again making me realize how in my own little world I was as he pulled me into a hallway, holding up a hand to me, silently asking me where we were going.
I had no idea what was happening until my hand moved on its own, until it slid up, finding his palm, his fingers, curling in on instinct, on impulse. Under mine, his hand twitched, almost like he was going to pull away before his hand curled into mine, fingers lacing between, gripping tighter.
And there it was again.
The chest thing.
I took a deep breath, trying to move past it, as I turned away, pulling him with me down the hall toward Gary's office, dropping his hand as soon as we stepped inside, feeling the odd need to shake off the sensation there, like a tingling, a current of electrical shocks over the surface of my palm.
Kai moved past me, head ducked, hand opening and closing a few times as he went around Gary's desk, immediately getting to work on his computer.
Left feeling useless - one of the most hated sensations I was familiar with - I walked around his space, mildly annoyed when it smelled like him, looking for things maybe I had missed before, so caught up in my own dreams and ambitions for us as a couple that I was blind to warning signs.
There were no pictures.
But, for me, that wasn't unusual.
No one at the office had personal pictures on their desks or walls.
There was a suit jacket on a hook behind the door. I went to it, feeling around in the pockets as Kai clicked around on the keyboard.
I found a receipt for gas, another for the coffee he had brought me one afternoon. Without the caramel he knew I wanted. There were a couple of quarters. And a lighter.
Lighter.
My Gary hadn't smoked.
It would have been a deal-breaker for me.
But just like Computer Gary wore glasses, I guess Office Gary smoked.
Just one more falsehood, one more reason to beat myself down a bit.
I mean, how could I have believed him when he said he smelled like cigarettes because he took his break outside with people in the office who smoked? How naive could I be?
"Not as smart as he thought he was," Kai mumbled, drawing my attention, making me spin to find him scrolling with one hand while writing with the other, a talent I absolutely did not possess, and definitely envied a bit.
"You found something?"
"Any chance you guys considered Connecticut for a honeymoon destination?" he asked, smiling about the raised-brow look I sent him. Who went to Connecticut for their honeymoon? "Then I think we have something. Give me one more... yep," he declared, nodding. "He was looking at a new townhouse development being built. I guess he has his sights set on the Nutmeg State."
"Nutmeg State," I repeated, lips twitching. "You're making that up."
"Nope. It's not the official one, but it is widely used," he declared, jotting down an address before powering down the computer. "So... road trip?"
Was there really a choice?
I needed to know.
Kai would never let me do it on my own.
And, quite frankly, with my head all over the place, it was reassuring to have someone around who could keep theirs on right.
"Stop back for salads and a bag?" he suggested when I just stood there, processing.
"Ah, yeah. Don't you need to..."
"Got some clothes in my backpack," he declared. Because, well, of course he did. Everyone in the office had a bag packed. In case of last minute trips out of town.
"How far is it?" I asked once we were safely back in the car, no embarrassing mugshots of fingerprinting in our futures, it seemed.
"About two and a half hours. Not too bad. We could be there well before dark."
With that, we went back to my place.
Kai repacked the salads while I threw some things into a bag, just in case we ended up needing to stay overnight.
It was only when we were on the road again, this time for an extended ride, that Kai's hand went to fetch something out of his glove box, producing a red iPod, plugging it in, then toggling through with deft fingers since he never once took his eyes off the road.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when a very familiar voice came booming out of the speakers a moment later.
My gaze went to Kai's profile, scrutinizing it for a long moment as Miley started singing about a Hoedown Throwdown.
I figured it a fluke as I sat there, staring out the window.
But when Miley transitioned into Britney and then Britney into Nikki, I found myself turning, watching him for a long moment until he hit a light, turning to me. "What's up?"
"This is my playlist." It came out like an accusation. Maybe it was. Because he had my playlist. How did he have my personal playlist? Why?
"Yeah," he said simply, nodding.
"Why do you have my playlist? How?"
"I follow you."
"I'm sorry?" I heard myself ask, tone a bit sharp.
"On Spotify," he specified. "You make the best playlists."
"Really?" I asked, suspicion plain in my voice. "So you're a big Miley fan, huh?"
To that, he snorted. "No. But I figured your Come On, Get Happy playlist was needed right about now. If I had my choice, we'd be listening to Billy Joel Soothes the Soul."
"You've memorized my playlists?"
"Only a handful."
Since I had at least three dozen, that was not that many. But still... odd. Surprising. And, to be perfectly, one-hundred-percent honest... almost a bit scary.
Not because I thought it was creepy, that Kai was some kind of stalker.
But because of what it meant.
It meant that he did see more than I realized.
It meant he saw some of the silly parts of me that next to no one got to see.
And he didn't seem to view me any differently because of them.
"Want something different?"
I reached for the iPod he handed me, scrolling through playlists I had poured over, trying to make each one set a mood, evoke a feeling.
What I really felt the need for in my soul was Sounds of Sadness. But I didn't want that to overtake me, let the bad feelings out, where someone else might be able to see it.
So I picked Drift Away, something meant for relaxing at home with some wine, just unwinding down after a long day.
"This one is my favorite," Kai declared, surprising me, always having figured him for an upbeat music kind of guy.
I guess I didn't know him as well as I had thought.
I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
And on a day when there were too many things to feel about, I chose not to feel at all.
It was a survival technique.
I wasn't sure I could handle it all if I let it take over me.
So I took it all, smushed it together, and locked it away. To be dealt with later. When I was alone. When no one would be around to see the breakdown. When no one would watch me need to meticulously sweep up the wreckage.
Because I wasn't capable of letting someone see - or especially help me clean up - my mess.
"So this is what my money is buying him," I murmured when we turned into the neighborhood with one fully finished row of townhouses - show models - and about a dozen half-built ones.
"Not if we can help it, Jules," Kai consoled, the optimism maybe somehow grating on my nerves. Because, sometimes, you just wanted to hear someone say You know what? You're right. This sucks. Then again, I was in the midst of some existential crisis. I wasn't thinking like I might normally. Because normal me would be plotting, planning, making lists, breaking down a bigger, seemingly impossible problem into smaller, easier to handle pieces. Certainly not sitting in the passenger seat just watching the world pass by me.
I didn't know who this me was, but I
couldn't seem to shake her.
"I think this is the office," Kai said, pulling up to a trailer with a trio of cars to the side, and a sign that said Open on the door.
"What's the plan?" I heard myself ask.
"We look for who is in charge. Then ask him about Gary."
I didn't question him, didn't demand more details. Like who we would say we were. Why we would say we were looking for Gary.
I just climbed out of the Jeep, followed Kai in, and let him do the talking.
Again, not like me.
I liked to be in charge.
I liked knowing that my fate was all in my hands.
Maybe I just didn't have the energy.
Maybe I simply trusted Kai.
But whatever the reason, I stood by at Kai's side as he spoke to the woman - named Abby - who was around my age, sitting at the desk with long coffin nails in a bright purple color that I couldn't seem to look away from.
And I said nothing.
As we were informed that we had just missed the manager, Ron, and that he wouldn't be back until the following day.
Kai said something with that smile of his that had the girl going from professional friendly to flirtatious, giving me another glimpse of how he was good at his job.
"We'll come back tomorrow," I interjected, not even caring that I was cutting Kai's sentence off, my voice a little sharp. "Are you ready to go?" I asked, making Kai's brows draw together, trying to read my reaction.
I didn't think he would have much luck.
Since I didn't understand it myself.
I certainly didn't know what made me reach for his hand again. But I did it. And started pulling him with me toward the door.
"We'll see you tomorrow," I called to the girl at the desk before pulling Kai outside, dragging him with me back to his Jeep.
"Jules," Kai called, reaching out with his suddenly free hand as I reached for the handle, pressing it into the door, holding it closed, forcing me to turn back to him. "Take a breath," he demanded, surprising me, making me realize I had barely been doing so for several long moments. He waited, watching me suck in a deep breath, then release it slowly. "Okay. Now, what is going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're... not acting like yourself."
"You barely know me," I declared, lips spilling the lie like venom, wanting it out of me and onto him, no matter how unfair that was.
The Messenger (Professionals Book 3) Page 7
