by Emily Childs
I jab the point of a chip between us. “I’m going to break up with you.”
“Don’t do that,” he says, scooping salsa. “It was just a sneak preview.”
“Who are you?” I cock my head, brows raised. “Where is moody Bastien, king of analytics?”
His smile fades a little. “I like that you tell me how it is. Makes me feel like you’re real. You’ve always been real with me.”
“You mean I insult you.”
“Insults or not, I ease up around you, Brooks.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
He grins shyly. “Imagine how I am when I’m really tense then. That’s a compliment to you.”
And a dang good one. No mistake, I kind of thought he found me irritating, but kept me around because I’m an epically awesome assistant. I lace my fingers together; if I don’t, then I might do something crazy like try out our new holding hands idea.
“Back to your original question,” he says after eating another chip. “I’ve actually thought about this. I say we read each situation, and take it in strides on how far away or how close we are to each other.”
I try to remember if he was affectionate with Amy, but I’m coming up blank. I dated a lot in college. Too much, honestly, but that’s a different issue entirely. Some guys weren’t touchy, some way too gropey. I fall somewhere in the middle. But what if people expect us to kiss? Would he, would I? I need to be specific, need to be clear. There isn’t any need to go beyond an occasional hand holding, plenty of couples don’t display affection in public. I should tell him we don’t need to muddy the waters with any kissing nonsense. “Okay. In strides.”
Brilliantly done, Laney. Brilliant.
Bastien flashes his half grin I’m liking more and more. “Okay,” he says, watching me daintily dip a chip into the salsa. “Now that we’ve got that worked out, I need to teach you how to properly dip a chip.”
“Back off. I like the juices, not the chunks.”
“Watch and learn, Brooks.”
For the next hour I relax in a booth with my boss, the guy I promised an old roommate I’d scorn for all eternity.
I laugh. Bastien laughs and his blue eyes aren’t as dark, not as shadowed. They sort of sparkle sometimes. It strikes me all at once how much he buries beneath his no-nonsense attitude. Why doesn’t he show this side of him?
If Bastien was this guy always, the truth is, I’d strongly reconsider my aversion to kissing the man.
Chapter 11
Bastien
The office doesn’t feel the same, and I’m an idiot for letting it get to me. Standing at the copy machine I keep my eyes on her empty desk, declaring to no one but myself, that I don’t like this place nearly as much when Laney isn’t here.
Borderline creepy. Clearing my throat, I snatch the sheets from the copier and hurry back to my office to hole up until the end of the day.
I don’t feel like talking with anyone.
Work has always been a good distraction, and preparing for the expansion keeps me plenty busy throughout the morning. The Cutler’s are sending a representative from South Carolina to meet with each department on Monday, and I’m anxious to build a rapport. Holly devours good relationships, clearly, and I want Cutler to want me in charge of their accounts. If I score their trust, then Holly will see promoting me is really the obvious play to make.
Scanning through a forwarded email from Piper, I get a glimpse at our guest from Cutler Inc., I can’t figure out how this woman they’re sending will be. She doesn’t sound entirely professional, more like we’ve been friends since grade school.
Hey there,
I am thrilled at the idea of meeting with y’all about growth within Cutler Incorporated. Googling your setup, and wow, I’m impressed.
I’ll be bringing my questions, so be bringing your answers for me to take back to the board.
I’ve included the itinerary, and would appreciate any changes to be sent back as soon as possible.
9AM: Meeting with Legal
10AM: Meeting with Ms. Everett
11AM: Meeting with Accounting and Marketing
12PM: Meeting with Analytics
Looking forward to working with all y’all.
Until then,
Olive Cutler
Okay. An actual Cutler is coming. Maybe Mr. Cutler’s wife? Sister? Daughter? All I know is they’re sending a member of the family, and I better not screw it up. I’m glad Laney will be here on Monday. She’s plays nicer with people. I’ll follow her lead.
On instinct, I grab my phone, ready to text Laney, but stop myself. Don’t interrupt her on her day off. Facing my computer, I dig back into preparing reports on projected outcomes for Cutler Inc.
My phone buzzes an hour later. I’m engrossed in my chart, and don’t even look before I answer.
“Whoa,” Jonas says. “You answered. What’s happening?”
I roll my eyes, but grin. “What do you want? I was hoping this was Axel.”
“Want to go there? The favorite brother thing?”
“No. I don’t want the family to implode by starting something with you guys. What’s up?”
“I’m being a good son and calling to beg you, on my hands and knees—”
“You shouldn’t mess up your suit.”
“Hypothetically. To come to the fitting tonight.”
“My tux already fits.”
Jonas sighs. “Yeah, so does mine. It’s not going to be late and the suit place is in the middle. You’ll be home and back to work before you know it.”
“Yeah right. You guys will want to go out after.”
“Is that so bad?”
I frown, realizing how harsh I sounded. I actually really enjoy spending time with my brothers, annoying as they are. “No,” I tell him. “It’s not so bad.”
“Good,” Jonas goes on. “Don’t get clingy though because I can’t stay out late tonight. Other plans.”
“Hot date?”
Jonas chuckles. “Yes, with a sexy woman and a tiny dictator. Family night. We skipped last week, and Kirstie made sure we didn’t forget it.”
Something pinches in my chest. I don’t want that life, at least not anymore. I thought I wanted the whole family thing. Wife, kids, house, picket fence. But after what happened with Amy, I’m not sure the work to get there is worth it. I’m glad it was for Jonas and Axel or else I wouldn’t have the coolest nephews and niece around. They’re both good husbands and awesome dads, but that domestic life, it’s not in the cards for me.
“So,” Jonas says. I hear papers rustling in the background. He’s working, and I can practically hear my mother’s voice pointing out how he can be successful and still make time for phone calls. “You coming?”
“Fine. I’ll go.”
“Figured, since your other half will be with the girls, right?”
I choke. On air. That’s how taken off guard I am. “What?”
“Oscar told Brita you’re dating.”
I wait for the taunts. Brace myself, really. My fist is curled, and I don’t know why the idea of Laney being teased turns my gut.
“Hello?”
My brow furrows. “I was just waiting for the comebacks.”
“No comebacks,” Jonas says. “I think it’s cool, dude. Nicole’s sister, right?”
What’s happening? “Uh, we’ve only . . . started. We’re not really, well, I’m not sure what we are right now.”
Jonas chuckles. “It’s a good thing, Bass. Doesn’t she work there?”
“Yeah.” Silence builds for a minute, and I guess Jonas is waiting for me to explain more. “She’s actually my assistant.”
Now he laughs. “That’s right, I vaguely remember Nicole saying her sister worked for you. As a lawyer, do I need to remind you of potential problems?”
“Stop,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “We’re not irresponsible. How do you think Oscar found out? He’s HR.”
“Okay, just don’t go all crazy in the office after ho
urs or something.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Kidding,” Jonas says. “Seriously, I’m happy you’re starting to go back out again.”
My fingertips tingle. I don’t want to talk about this, don’t want to hash out things I know my family has been wanting to hash out with me. “Yeah,” I say, voice raw. “Well, see you tonight?”
“Good,” he says. “Mom will love you again. See ya.”
I hang up laughing. Maybe it has been too long since I saw my family. I sort of miss them. But Lindström is small, and reeks of memories that I don’t need to distract me right now. I’m sorry my family has paid the price, but whenever I go back, it’s like knives to the chest. I hate it, and I hate that nothing, not even my own family, has been able to heal that wound.
***
Golden sunset spills over my desk as I wrap up to leave. The last analyst left an hour ago. Quiet and solitude are some of my favorite moments at the office. Jamming out to music, thinking, distracting my own brain. It’s a kind of relaxation for me.
Something drops out in the pit of cubicles followed by a, “Gah, you frickin’ tool.”
I laugh. What is she doing here?
Out in the pit, Laney ruffles through her desk drawers, cursing under her breath. She’s in blue shorts that show off her bold curves, ankle boots that look like she’s going into combat, and a blouse that swoops off one shoulder, giving me a front row seat to the delicate shape of her neckline. Freckles dot her skin, along her neck, her collarbone, and I’m unashamed to admit I’d like to memorize a few of them someday.
Maybe.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
Laney has that effect on me. Not a good thing. Of course, I don’t really mind it either.
Recently, I’ll catch her mid-laugh and drift into random thoughts about her straight teeth, and wonder if she ever had braces. Or if the silver stud in the curve of her ear hurt. Thoughts I don’t need to be having. Thoughts that tie up my tongue, so I don’t say anything. Usually those moments are when she accuses me of being a grouch who survives by sucking the joy from each day.
As a kid, I pretended I was smooth with girls like Axel had been. Or the strong, silent type like Jonas. But really, I could hardly string two words together. Amy was the first girl who gave me a second, third, fourth chance to get comfortable. And that went up in flames.
Maybe I am moody, but maybe it’s because going down this road with someone else, risking the same pulverizing destruction again—frankly, I don’t want to deal with it.
But I do like the way Laney has her hair tonight, sort of wild on top of her head. Laney isn’t the kind of girl to fuss over pounds of makeup. She wears sneakers with pencil skirts. T-shirts with high heels. Her glasses slip down her nose all the time, and sometimes she doesn’t have a filter. But that’s what I’ve always liked about her from the beginning. Those quirks. The originality that makes Laney, well, Laney.
When we met, she’d been wearing a yellow sundress, I have no idea why I remember, but she’d coupled it with brown shin-high hiking boots. She had purple streaks in her hair. The dainty, silver nose ring is gone now, but I remember that too.
I’m not sure when the liking changed into something more like full-blown want, but watching her in her weird shoes and daisy dukes makes my mouth dry.
“You know, we’re supposed to speak with a level of professionalism here,” I say as I lean against the windows of my office.
She shrieks and nearly falls onto her desk. “You scared me.”
My music is playing loudly. I grin. “Didn’t you know I was here?”
“Yeah, but thought you’d be knee deep in your love affair with numbers and wouldn’t hear me.”
“You’re loud.”
Pink tints the high edges of her cheeks. I probably enjoy making her blush too much.
“I forgot my wallet,” she explains, holding it up. “Weird how I leave important things in my desk. Might as well bring some toiletries and put clothes in the drawers since I basically live here. Take that as a hint you’re running a sweatshop.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way to her desk, stopping maybe a foot away. She uses her index finger to nudge her glasses up her slender nose, and I doubt she realizes she’s biting her bottom lip.
“You sure you didn’t leave it on purpose?”
“And why would I do that?” She puts one hand on her hip, unaware how perfectly captivating she is.
“I don’t know,” I say, voice low. “You had the day off, but maybe you like being here.”
Laney blows out her lips and rolls her eyes. “Give me a break. I was severely disappointed that I’d need to see your face actually.”
“So you knew I’d be here?” I take a step closer, noting her swallow.
“You’re always here, but I’ll admit, I’m pleasantly surprised you survived without me.”
“I’m capable, Brooks. More than you think.” I don’t need to tell her how much busier the day was, and how much more I appreciate everything she does, from big tasks like tackling executive meetings, to the coffee runs.
“Right. Aren’t you late for a fitting?”
“Aren’t you?”
We stand next to each other for a long, breathless moment. Long enough I learn she has green in her eyes, and more than the stud in her ear, she has a diamond pierced on the outer nub of cartilage, I’m sure I’ll Google what it’s called later, and I like it. I’ve never noticed.
Laney lifts one brow, and tilts her chin, like she recognizes how close we’re standing, and isn’t intimidated. At least one of us isn’t. I hope she can’t see the thump of my pulse in my neck. Then she breaks the moment and steps back.
“I am running late. Enjoy your mistress Lady Probabilistic Model. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my work-free evening.”
I laugh as she walks away, calling out to the back of her head, “Have I told you it’s pretty hot when you talk statistics?”
She pauses at the door leading to the lobby, flashing me a little smirk. I hate that smirk because I love it. “I know how to please my man.” Then she’s gone.
No doubt, Laney. I have no doubt. Sometimes I wish it could be me. Not a temporary thing like now, but organic. Natural.
But it can’t. I won’t do it again.
Unless Laney wanted to, then, who knows, I might reconsider.
Chapter 12
Laney
Nicole laughs with the attendant at the bridal shop. I stand back, unsure what my role in all this is. As her Maid of Honor, I feel like I should do something special for the last dress fitting, but I’m too nervous. This fitting we’re not going to be alone. Oscar’s mom and sister are coming. But so is his cousin, Brita. Also known as Bastien’s sister-in-law. I’ve met them all several times before. A common thing when my sister is marrying into the family.
But now, everything feels as if it has reached an entirely new level.
Where I conversed with them easily before, I feel like I might puke on their shoes if they press me about Bastien at all.
“Lane,” Nicole says, her smile wide. “We’re heading back. Coming?”
I smile. “Yep. I can’t wait to see it.”
In the fitting room, there are chaise lounges and cute armchairs for those waiting. Nicole slips behind the curtain and I take a seat next to a basket of bottled waters. It always takes a few minutes, so I entertain myself by watching another bride admire an empire waist gown with her fan club.
“Oh, Laney. Here she is.”
I whip over my shoulder and a woman with pale eyes beams at me. She’s curvy, and has a few strands of gray in her hair, but she grins like I’m her favorite person.
“Oh, hi, Inez,” I say to Oscar’s mom. She wraps me up in a tight side hug.
A tall, skinny girl peeks around the side of her. Agnes, Oscar’s sister, is adorable. She has physical challenges, and sometimes seems younger than she is, but since she turned sixteen she has embraced the teenage
years full blast. Agnes and Oscar look similar, their faces are shaped the same, same blue eyes, the only difference is she has deeper red in her hair than him.
“Hi Agnes,” I say. “Are you excited for the wedding? We get to be at the front, but at least we’ll eat a lot more than Oscar and Nicole, right? They’ll be stuck saying hello to everyone.”
“I’m excited and I like the dress Nicki picked,” she says. “I like your lipstick.”
I chuckle, knowing she’s had a fascination with makeup since summer. “Thanks. It’s actually only gloss.”
“Oh, Aggie is way into gloss lately. She even has glitter gloss.” Another voice joins in. Brita Olsen rounds the corner fumbling with a large purse. She’s their cousin, but has a darker complexion than Oscar and Agnes.
Agnes giggles. “It’s cool.” Then she staggers to a chair and sits, stretching her slightly curled fingers as she waits.
“Hi, Laney,” Brita says, her eyes scan my outfit. “I’m obsessed with those boots. Where did you get them?”
I check out my heavy-duty boots, maybe a GI-Jane look, but I’ve always liked heavier shoes. “Oh, a little Mom and Pop store in Minneapolis. One of those upcycled stores.”
“I’m not opposed to used clothes,” Brita says. “Sometimes you can find cute things. I’ve always liked your look, though. Right, Nic?”
“She says she’s jealous of your nose ring,” my sister says.
I flush, drawing a hand to my bare nose. “Oh. Uh, a wilder night for sure. I took it out two years ago.”
Brita grins. “Still, I hope Nicole will let you wear the boots at the wedding.”
“She’s making me wear stilettos.”
“Yes,” Nicole snaps. “I am. For one day, weirdo.”
“Well, either way,” Brita whispers. “I’m sure people won’t be able to take their eyes off you.” Did she just wink? I fight the urge to groan. What has Nicole said? Or Oscar. What has Oscar said?
My skin feels too tight. I like that Oscar’s family sort of embraced both Nicole and me, but I haven’t seen Brita since right after I started working at Everett. Did I bad mouth Bastien then? I remember laughing with her as we helped Nicole pick out the dress, but did I say anything that wouldn’t fit the narrative now?
