And as a special bonus bit of torment, I could kiss goodbye any chance of Hunter ever seeing me as a professional. He was probably going to pack me off to Washington on the first train or plane he could book me a ticket on. He was probably going to distribute my photo to all his security people too, to make sure I didn’t go all crazy stalker on him.
I made myself roll out of bed and crawl to the dresser, where I pulled on the most uncomfortable, unflattering outfit I could find. This was my penance. It wasn’t enough.
But before I got fired, I needed to get myself some goddamn coffee. And of course all the single-serving cups that went in my suite’s coffeemaker were gone. It figured.
#
Somehow, I miraculously made my way to the manor and into the kitchen without getting lost or dying from the worst hangover ever known to man (or woman).
The smell of baking pastries only made my stomach roil, and I filled up my coffee mug quickly, grabbing a glass of orange juice as well. If I could just keep that down, my electrolytes might be replenished by the time I was combing the want ads for a new job back at home.
“How’s the head?”
I almost dropped my cups.
There was Hunter, looking good enough to eat in a tight shirt and loose khakis. I blushed, thinking of how I must look in a tattered bathrobe over my frumpy outfit. And after the things I’d said last night—after the things I’d done--
Hunter laughed sympathetically. “Not great, I take it.” He grabbed an egg from the refrigerator and cracked it into my orange juice. His hand wrapped around mine, nudged me towards the fridge. “Just add some Worcestershire sauce to that, and you’ve got a foolproof hangover cure.”
I eyed the cup, my brain torn between confusion, lust, and suspicion. Was he actually feeling this casual? He couldn’t be. I just wished I could think clearly, instead of fighting through the headache and the insistent urge to check out his abs.
“I think I’ll stick to coffee,” I said, my face flushing. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Why did he always catch me at my worst?
“It’s your head,” he said with a shrug. He leaned closer, his eyes dancing. “Seems like your research methods have been a lot more fun for me than you, on the whole.”
R-rated images danced a tango through my head, and this time, it was my turn to make my excuses and flee.
#
Since I was, somehow, not fired, I took refuge under a willow outside the library, where I could look over my notes with no risk of the elements damaging the original texts safe back inside. There, hidden beneath its copious leaves, I managed to get some work done.
Until Hunter managed to track me down three hours later, and I forgot everything except how yummy he looked in a tight white t-shirt.
“I’ve got something to show you,” he said.
And it probably wasn’t his abs. I braced myself for the ‘it’s just not working out, I’m going to get someone new from your company’ speech…
But he pulled out his cell phone instead.
“You’re making a bad habit of taking calls while talking to me,” I said. Maybe reminding him of our night together wasn’t the smartest move, but what the hell, how much more trouble could I get in?
His lips quirked for a second before he passed me the phone. “I wanted to show you this.”
It was a text conversation from Chuck. At first I didn’t get it—Chuck was just talking about some kind of meeting. Then he mentioned something that was supposed to be in my purview. And then he mentioned a name.
Harry.
Chuck was at a meeting with the Douchebros, and they were going to try to steal my project away from me.
I looked up at Hunter, speechless.
He nodded grimly. “They’re trying to cut you out.”
Emotions warred in my chest. I was touched that Hunter was sharing this with me, but confused. He didn’t care about the ad campaign, he thought it was all worthless. And after last night, why would he care if Chuck brought in new blood? “Why would you show me this?”
“Because if Chuck thinks he can get away with this, he’ll cut me out next.” He looked away and kicked at the dirt, his face vaguely embarrassed. He muttered, “Besides, your idea is worth a hundred of theirs.”
That was probably less a measure of how much he liked my idea and more a measure of how much he hated theirs, but it still gave me a warm glow inside.
I stood, and met his gaze, letting him see my determination. “Well, then we just won’t let him get away with it.”
#
Hunter and I didn’t bust into the meeting so much as stroll in casually, but Chuck and the Douchebros still started guiltily in their seats like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
Chuck recovered first, barely pausing to shoot an angry look at Hunter before going into full smarm mode: “Allison! I’m so glad Hunter decided you should join us. I’m sure you don’t mind that we’re exploring multiple options, do you? It’s so important to consider all perspectives, don’t you think?”
I gritted my teeth as I smiled, wishing he wasn’t so powerful within the Knox corporation, so I could tell him to his face what I thought of his patronizing crap. But he was powerful, and so I couldn’t give him an excuse to dismiss me.
“Of course,” I said. “Let’s hear those ideas. I’m all ears.”
Between my bitterness and my hangover, the forced smile on my face was actually starting to hurt, but if they wanted to bro it up, I was going to be right there with them.
Chuck smiled ingratiatingly. “Excellent. Let’s get to it, then. But it’s looking a little crowded in here, so why don’t we reconvene someplace a little more…comfortable? I know just the place.”
#