by Lindsey Hart
“You could just walk around with your bad eye closed all night. Or we could try and find the contact and you could wash it in the bathroom sink.”
Callie sighed. She felt close to crying. Probably because she was so damn hungry. “There’s no chance of that happening now. It’s probably been stepped all over and ruined. They’re just disposables so it wouldn’t have mattered if it wasn’t for the fact that I can’t freaking see.”
“It’s okay,” Chantara soothed. “I’ll just guide you along the buffet. Just keep your bad eye closed and fill up your plate. When we get back to the table, you can take the other one out.”
“I won’t be able to see what’s going on all night.”
“You probably won’t want to. They are opening up the bar right away. People are just going to get drunk and swap shitty work stories. Because, you know, no one actually has a life outside this place.”
“Because corporate meetings and paperwork and business lunches are so exciting.”
“I know. It’s bad.”
“Remind me again why you made me come to this? I didn’t want to go, and you forced me. You said you needed a wingman. We could just leave after dinner.”
“And miss the one-dollar drinks? Not a chance. This is the one night a year selling insurance actually pays off.”
Callie shut her bad eye and helped herself to a scoop of the sweet mashed potatoes. The orange blobs looked delicious at the moment and she didn’t even like sweet potatoes. Or yams. Whatever.
“I’m sure it pays off for other people as well. Like the ones who use it.”
“You know what I mean. As administrative assistants, we put up with a lot of shit. We do everything around the place and never get any credit. You make it so Matt Hilbert can function on a day to day basis and he gets the award. Never thanked anyone once.”
“How do you know? I thought you were as tuned out as I was during his speech.”
“Unlike you, I wasn’t so busy eyeing up his assets that I couldn’t hear what he was saying.”
Callie felt her entire body go out. Okay, so Matt Hilbert was freaking gorgeous, but what could she do about it? Nothing. She wouldn’t have done anything if she wanted to. It was just strange, realizing that she was actually attracted to another person, even on a base level. She’d been pretty damn done with that kind of thing for the past eighteen months. Ever since her fiancé walked out on her the night before their wedding. It hurt. Obviously. It still did, even if she pretended that it didn’t.
“Stop. Show me where the turkey is and the peas and put some salad on my plate and let’s get out of here. Is there a dessert table? Tell me there is. We should stop there before we go back to the table to make sure that people don’t take all the good stuff before it’s gone.”
“I don’t think anyone’s taken anything from there yet.”
“Perfect. Let’s be rebels. No one will notice us anyway. You said so yourself. Let’s go take a damn cheesecake or something. There had better be cheesecake.”
“Alright, alright,” Chantara laughed.
She filled up Callie’s plate and Callie followed close at her heels. She let Chantara point out which white lump was actually cheesecake and followed her back to the table. She set her plate down and sick of being completely dizzy, slid her other contact out. She wasn’t sure what to do with it after, so she hid it in a fold of her napkin.
“It figures,” she complained between a mouthful of sweet potatoes, which were actually amazing.
“What does?” Chantara asked, mouth also full of food.
“That I would lose my stupid contact at the worst moment. I’ve never lost one before. I honestly didn’t even think of bringing my glasses or a second pair.”
“Sounds about right. Oh well, don’t worry. I’ll be your seeing eye dog. We’ll have a couple of drinks, complain some more, listen to some bad music, watch some bad dancing, which I will, of course, describe to you in full hilarious detail and then we can leave. Deal?”
Callie started laughing. It was one of those silent, uncontrolled laughs that didn’t even allow for breath. She had to brush away a stray tear forming at the corner of her eye after. When she could actually breathe again, she put a hand to her aching stomach.
“Oh god. Alright. It’s a deal. Even though I’m starved, and the night has been completely boring so far, you’re right. It would have been way worse alone. And the food is good.”
“That’s just because they made us wait so long for it. An old boot would have been delicious at this point. There are the drinks though. I’m in for that. I haven’t had a good gin and tonic in a long time.”
“Oh no. Not that. I thought you were talking about a beer here or there.”
“No way. I don’t drink that swill.”
“Okay, coolers then.”
“Heck no.”
“Punch?”
“Nope.”
Callie sighed. “Just make sure they put more tonic than they do gin and we should be fine.”
“I’m done with that. There is going to be no more dancing on car roofs. I promise.” Chantara put a hand over her heart.
“Serious? I need you now. I can’t even see. I’m so damn blind that I am relying on you to navigate the rest of the evening for us. So please, please, please, manage to stay upright.”
“Got it.” Chantara flashed what Callie thought was a huge grin. Maybe even a thumbs up. She saw a flash of hands and a blur of teeth.
Callie finished up her meal, way too fast, and started in on the cheesecake. Everything was absolutely amazing. It had definitely been worth the wait. Although, maybe Chantara was right. It was the wait that made everything taste that good.
Now that the food was done, she really was looking forward to leaving. She didn’t mind having a few drinks, but she was definitely not up for dancing and all that corny Christmas office party spirit that people either faked or produced by some miracle, as genuine. She wasn’t into it. It was the whole holiday overall. Ever since she was a teenager, she found Christmas really, really hard.
Don’t think about it. Don’t go there. She promised herself she was going to have a fun evening with Chantara. Her best friend had been there for her through thick or thin and it could be one of their increasingly rare girl’s nights out kind of a deal. Except she really hoped Chantara meant what she said. If her friend chose to get up and dance on cars or into the street, Callie wouldn’t see it coming.
She heaved a sigh, actually hoping that Chantara would go get them a drink sooner rather than later. Her thoughts were beginning to churn back to things she’d rather not think about. She could use a good stiff gin to chase them back to oblivion. Just for one night. Just one night. I wanted this to be fun. Just one night without thoughts of Ben or my family or… or anything else.
If only she hadn’t lost her contacts. She could have distracted herself by studying, discreetly, of course, the fine features, even finer form, and sea blue eyes that belonged to Matt Hilbert. No matter what she said or thought, it would have been a good distraction.
CHAPTER 4
Matt
Just as he thought, the Christmas party was as bone dry boring as it had been all the previous years. He wasn’t sure why he thought this one was going to be any different. It turned out that people who were boring during the day at work were just as boring at night. Unless they got a few too many drinks. Then sometimes, it was entertaining.
As it was, it was nearly eleven and no one that he noticed was making a drunken spectacle of themselves. He was almost disappointed. It’s probably far too early.
But it just made the evening dry. Real dry. Desert level dry. At least the food was good. That was a bonus. The party the year before was held at a different hotel and the food had been absolutely terrible.
The DJ was just starting up the tunes when Matt stood up. He decided that enough was enough. He’d had enough pleasant chit chat to last him the night. Of course, there had also been the occasional conversation ab
out work snuck in there. He hated that. He would like, for once, to just have a fucking night off and not talk about insurance.
He left his award on the table. God, it could stay there for all he cared. He didn’t mind his job. He didn’t even mind the company. He just hated being singled out. He didn’t even know he’d done so well with his sales. Well, really, his department had. He just managed the whole thing. He must have done something right. There was a good chance that Richard, his boss, probably had informed him of the fact at some time or other but he’d probably just tuned right out. He tended to do that most days.
A drink. I need a drink. As in, like, a triple. Or maybe just straight up whiskey. Would they serve that to me here? Probably not.
It would look bad to be seen pounding back drink after drink or carrying too many to the table at once, so maybe he could convince the bartender to give him two doubles. He’d nurse those for all of ten minutes and get two more. That would help him endure another hour before he could feel like he hadn’t left too early. Midnight seemed appropriate. And he’d take the damn award with him. Maybe he’d get lucky and forget it in the cab on the way home.
Fortunately for him, the evening went uphill from there. Thanks to the bartender’s free pouring, the one-dollar drinks and the DJ who shit the bed and forgot some piece of equipment to actually make everything work together, people were getting inventive. The drunk kind of inventive.
Cayden Wall from their marketing department charged to the table where Matt was currently nursing his sixth double. Or was it eight? He wasn’t even sure. The edge he’d felt at the beginning of the evening was long gone. He was actually beginning to forget the string of disastrous dates and all of his recent relationships that hadn’t worked out. He was in a nice numb state when Cayden’s curly haired head swam into view.
“You have to come see this, man.”
Matt blinked. He actually looked behind him just to double check that Cayden really was talking to him. The guy probably hadn’t said more than two words to Matt the entire four years the guy was with the company. They’d started around the same time. Matt remembered when Cayden was hired. Judging from the way Cayden’s shirt had come untucked and his tie was hanging askew, he’d had a few doubles himself. Or way more singles. Either way, the guy had that bleary-eyed look of someone who had imbibed a little too much. A lot of the people still remaining in the room were getting that look.
“What’s that?” Matt finally asked. His own voice was still surprisingly even.
“They’re hanging mistletoe out in the hall. People are grabbing each other left and right and puckering up.”
“Are you serious?” Matt sat up a little straighter.
“Yeah. Dead serious.” Cayden grinned like they were old friends. “You should come see. It’s pretty hilarious. Mrs. Dews just kissed Ron from sales. I think she’s going to be seventy-something next week.”
“Ron? Isn’t the guy barely past twenty?”
“Yeah. The one and the same.”
Matt slammed back the rest of his drink and stood. Someone should put an end to whatever drunken foolery was going on in the hall before someone started recording. It made Matt feel like he was a hundred fucking years old.
By the time he made it through the room, dodged a few well-meaning stragglers wanting a few minutes of conversation about this and that, someone who offered him another drink ticket, like he needed it, the frazzled DJ running around with a cell trying to figure out if someone could get to his place and pick up some cord or other, a group of women in their fifties and sixties trying to dance- music or no music, servers actually putting out midnight lunch and those trying to get plates, there were only a few people remaining in the hall. In short, the whole thing had pretty much turned into a giant shit show.
The folks that were there were already shrugging into their jackets and staggering down to rooms booked or cabs waiting. At least he fucking hoped it was cabs that they were heading to. Matt glanced behind him. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost Cayden. Go figure.
Sure enough, there was an errant spring of plastic mistletoe dangling from the top of the hall’s doorframe. He reached up to pull it down and right as his fingers closed in above his head, someone slammed into him hard from behind.
Matt struggled to stay upright. He flew forward a few steps and managed to catch himself before he fell flat on his face. He whirled, ready to lay a strip into someone, a nice strip since it was a corporate thing and all. His eyes widened when he saw his secretary, Callie, of all people, fumbling around. She was drunk. Real drunk. As in, couldn’t stay upright drunk.
She had her hands out in front of her like she was feeling for something, probably the air. No, more likely the wall, so she could brace herself. She caught the toe of her shoe in the carpet and nearly fell flat on her face.
Matt couldn’t take it. He rushed forward and put out one arm, which she grasped with the death grip of someone who was drowning.
“Oh… I’m so sorry,” she stammered. She didn’t sound drunk, but those eyes of hers were so unfocused, she definitely looked it.
“I…”
Matt didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do about the whole situation. Find a cab and put Callie in it? Would she be sober enough to tell the driver where she lived? Find her friend, one of the other girls who did admin, the one he saw at Callie’s desk throughout the day? Did she have a room booked at the hotel?
Just as he was trying to make up his mind, he breathed in and got a heady noseful of floral-scented perfume. It wasn’t the horribly gross kind and she hadn’t bathed in it. It was subtle, which probably meant it was expensive. The office was a scent free environment and he’d never smelled anything on her before.
He took a brief second to glance down into her upturned face. She was shorter than him by half a foot, but then again, so was the rest of the world. She had sandy blonde hair which was curled into ringlets that were starting to go straight and limp with the passing of the night. She didn’t normally wear makeup at work, at least not anything overly noticeable, but she looked… she looked beautiful at the moment. Red lipstick set off a pair of seductive lips. A hint of blush defined high set cheekbones. Her cornflower-blue eyes looked bluer due to dark eye makeup and her lashes were long and thick and dark with mascara.
At the office, Callie always dressed in work attire. He’d never really even taken a minute to notice her before, really notice her. He noticed her at the moment. In a big way.
She had on a tight black dress. It was possibly a little too tight. It pushed her ample breasts upwards so that just the tops swelled above the square neckline. The dress hugged her curves deliciously, like a second skin. It cut off just below the knee where the world’s most perfect set of shapely legs began. She had heels on, which he’d also never known her to wear, and they only outlined the definition in her legs.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized again in her light, lyrical voice. “I- I didn’t mean to bump into you. I-”
“No harm done,” he assured her and quickly released her arm. The burn that started making its way up his hand and arm spread through his chest. He realized he might be a little drunker than he thought he was.
“I was just- looking for someone. My friend. I haven’t seen her.”
“Can I help you get a cab?”
“I really want to find her first.” Callie’s eyes widened and her lips parted. Her tongue swept out and danced across the most beautiful mouth he’d seen in a damn long time.
His cock jumped to life, already throbbing. The universe certainly had a wicked sense of humor. He’d just promised himself he was done with women. Done with all of it. Of course, whatever forces were out there saw fit to throw the most inappropriate, beautiful, goddess, siren of an admin assistant his way. Why? Why didn’t I ever notice her before?
He was about to suggest that he take her downstairs and call her cab, when her friend, the girl whose name he couldn’t even remember, staggered out of t
he ballroom and into the hall.
“Oh my god. There you are. I’ve been looking for you forever,” she slurred. It was obvious that she was far drunker than Callie herself was.
Oh god. It’s like the blind leading the blind. I’ll find them both a cab home. Together. Maybe one of them can get the other one into recovery position if she passes out…
“Chantara? Where did you go!” Callie whirled on her friend. “You knew you were supposed to help me-”
Her desperate statement was cut off when Chantara glanced upward. She giggled. “There is a mistletoe spring right above your head. You guys are standing right underneath it. Go on! Kiss!”
“That would hardly be-”
“I couldn’t-” Callie protested at the same time.
“Do it! It’s Christmas after all. It will probably be the highlight of this whole boring thing for both of you!”
Matt froze. Callie hesitated. She stepped forward awkwardly, as though spurred by some inner wildness, but she tripped on those heels she had on and tumbled forward. He caught her since she was only a foot away. She hit his chest hard and then her hands were searching, searing, hot. He reacted instantly like she was a match and he was a jerry can full of gasoline.
Her hands hit his shoulders and her fingers dug in. She was probably just trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but her touch did something to him. His head swam and right before he lowered his face to hers, he realized that he was really damn drunk. It was the only explanation. He’d never felt anything close to the crazy physical reaction that was going on at the moment. He felt wild, edgy in his own skin, frantic, animal. He was hot and achy. A shiver tore up his spine. His stomach tightened and his cock throbbed between them. He had a split second to hope that Callie couldn’t feel that part of it, or that she was too drunk to notice before his mouth crushed hers.
People talked about sparks and sensation and all that garbage. He’d once picked up one of his girlfriend’s romance novels, the real trashy kind about a rancher and his cook, and read a few pages out loud, just to piss her off. It just happened to be about a kiss and some groping. He’d never forget the way the author described it.
