CHAPTER SIX
“I see we didn’t scare you off after your first day,” Connie greeted me. I clutched my to-go coffee cup as I walked through the front doors and furrowed my brows.
Am I late? Was she waiting for me?
When I finally had made it home last night, my mother never mentioned hearing from Connie, so I assumed I wasn’t fired yet. Not that I had much hope of surviving the week, but at least I lived to see another day.
I woke up with the sunrise; my nerves had prevented me from settling into a deep sleep for most of the night. I decided to go for an early-morning run along the beach to de-stress. The whole time I ran, I repeated the mantra, “I can do this, I can do this.” It worked like magic, and now I had half-deluded myself into thinking I was ready to face the day.
I smiled at Connie, hoping my grin would convince her—and me. “Oh, it was fine. No problems at all.”
I couldn’t very well admit I sucked big time at this job. If Connie hadn’t heard I was a colossal screw-up by now, I’d have another day to prove myself so I didn’t get fired. I needed the money to pay for books this fall, and I couldn’t stand to see my mother’s face if I did get canned.
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re catching on so quickly.” She paused, pursing her lips like she was sucking on something sour. “IT said they were sorry they didn’t get to you yesterday, but they’d be by first thing this morning to hook up your computer and get you your login information so you can get started. Afterwards, I’ll have the girls up front know you’re ready to answer the calls on your own.” She patted me on the back, smiling widely with confidence I wished I shared.
As I settled into my cubicle and put on my headset, I let out a deep breath and prepared for another long day.
I slept like shit. My late-night dinner had given me mild heartburn. I tossed and turned, knowing I had to get up early. My coxswain would kill me if I showed up late to practice. My crew team had its first meet of the season in a few weeks, which could qualify us for the National Championship, so I needed to be in top condition.
The alarm on my phone jolted me awake, still in my clothes, spun sideways on the bed with my head and one socked foot hanging off each side. I really needed to change my ringtone. Hearing Cartman from South Park screaming, “Oh my God! They killed Kenny! Get out of bed!” was no longer funny at the butt-crack of dawn. My head was throbbing, so I downed four aspirin and a bottle of Gatorade before I took a scalding hot shower to wake myself up.
I met my team at the marina by the Lanier Bridge, which crossed the Brunswick River. We were still waiting on JT, who was notoriously late but usually brought donuts.
“What’s up, Grant? Haven’t seen you around much,” my coxswain, Luca, asked. He was a grad student as well, studying political science. I’d known this group of guys since I started my graduate work. We were like our own fraternity, and while I loved them like brothers, I’d barely seen them during the off season.
“Yeah, I’ve been crazy busy at work. And stuff with my dad has been keepin’ me busy.”
“That sucks, dude. You should come up to campus with us this weekend, we’re having a mixer with the TAs from the Humanities department. Do you remember how drunk Dr. Ulin’s TA Becky got last year? I believe there were lampshades and a goat involved by the end of the night.”
I spit out the sip of Gatorade I’d just sipped. “I forgot all about that. What did they call her for the rest of the year? Baaaa-cky? God, even her students called her that, poor girl.”
“Yeah, she swore she’d never drink again after that night. Tequila shooters starting at noon will do that I guess. So are you gonna come?”
“You might just see me there. C’mon, let’s get this boat in the water. I need to be at work in an hour.”
Luca called the crew together once JT finally showed up, and I took my spot in the sixth position. I’d rowed several different types of boats as an undergrad, but now I only had time for the eight-man sweep team, which was a personal favorite anyway. We rowed it twice this morning, once up and once back, our time improving slightly the second go-round. The workout was exactly what I needed. A steady course of adrenaline coursed through my veins, and with a second shower, I strolled into my office a new man forty-five minutes later.
I booted up the three desktop computers that controlled multiple servers in my office and opened up my laptop. It pinged repeatedly with flagged messages titled “help” or “I don’t know what I did wrong.” I minimized the browser instead and went in search of coffee. I could already tell it was a double espresso type of day.
When I returned, I checked to make sure my algorithm was still working and not reporting any errors and quickly scanned my emails. I had several new ones, but only one caught my eye. It was from Connie and contained only three words: Please do so.
Awesome. Not even ten o’clock and I want to strangle someone. F*ckin’ fantastic.
I stormed out of my office, determined to get this ridiculous task and ridiculous girl out of the way so I could get back to what really mattered. I darted toward the sales team cubicles, knowing she most likely would have occupied one of the empty ones in the back corner.
I turned left, walked ten steps, and stopped. There, bent over with long, wavy hair cascading over her currently upside-down head, was a woman. She was bent in half, mumbling incoherent things while her long, slender fingers searched the floor for some escaped item. I couldn’t help but smile, seeing her trying to balance her bottom half on the chair while her top half threatened to topple to the floor. Her hair veiled half of her face, but the sliver I was able to view only caused me to want to see more.
She was beautiful. Some girls are girl-next-door pretty, some model hot, some sex-kitten sexy. But to be beautiful, it took a combination of all three. This girl had it in spades.
My feet moved forward a few steps before I even realized it, but I didn’t fully approach. I walked just close enough to make out the sweet resonance of her currently frustrated voice.
“Damn you, get back here. Shoot!” She leaned even further over in her chair, raising the back wheels off the ground as they threatened to tip over. I wanted to take a step forward and wrap my hands around her waist to hold her steady, maybe swipe my thumbs across the inch of flesh exposed at her back where her shirt had risen up. I imagined how soft it would be, that smooth, creamy skin, and I began to harden.
Well, f*ck. I couldn’t go over there now. I’d come off as some sort of creeper introducing myself with half wood. I took a few steps back and ducked into an empty cubicle while I adjusted myself. Was this the new girl JT had told me about? The one Connie kept yelling at me about and caused me such a headache? My mind wanted to hate her, but my body had other plans. I was drawn to her. I wanted to know more about her.
“Please be a ditz. Please let whatever comes out of your mouth make me forget how beautiful your body is,” I whispered under my breath.
She dropped to her knees as she crawled further under the desk. Her perfect ass swayed in the air, hypnotizing me. I was like a moth being drawn toward a flame.
This was definitely not in The Plan.
A tap on my shoulder startled me. Swiveling my chair around, a man was smiling down at me. He looked to be about my age—maybe a few years older—with sandy blond hair and an eyebrow ring that gleamed in the reflection of a nearby mirror. His wide smile revealed matching dimples on either side of his tanned face. I nervously fumbled with my headset, taking it off and standing up to say hello. He was probably around six feet tall, but standing next to him, my five-foot six-inch frame felt tiny.
“Hi. You must be Jillian. I’m Grant, from IT. I’m here for your hook-up.”
He reached out to shake my hand, and my breath hitched a little. While not Damon Salvatore or Eric Northman hot, he was certainly attractive. There was something about him that drew me in, and I couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was. He wore a pair of khaki pants that were frayed at the bottom and Vans. His green Polo shirt matched his eyes, which crinkled slightly as he smiled at me behind hipster black-framed glasses. I could tell he was the kind of kid who was nerdy in high school, but really came into his own now that he was in his twenties.
Boy, did he, I thought as I tried to nonchalantly take in his chiseled arms and broad shoulders. He wasn’t the usual type I went all lusty over, but my now-racing heart seemed to have other ideas.
“You’re here so we can hook up? Uh, I mean, um, hook up the computer?”
He chuckled at the Freudian slip and released my hand before taking a step closer. “Yes, I’m going to get you up and running.”
Oh, I’m up and running all right, I thought wickedly. But a sudden and sharp pang of guilt slapped at me. No, I have a boyfriend. This is ridiculous. So what if he’s cute? I love Christian, and I shouldn’t be flirting with this guy.
“Okay, thanks. Um, I’ll move out of your way and let you work.” I tried to move around him, but with the small confines of the cubicle, I couldn’t help but brush up against his hard chest. All the hair on my arm and neck stood on end, like those experiments I used to do as a kid with a balloon. This was more than static electricity that passed between us. It was exhilarating.
“So, you’re new here. Just here for the summer, I’m assuming?” Grant asked as his fingers typed a series of complex codes on my screen too complicated for me to understand.
“Yeah, until the fall semester starts up.” I pulled at a hangnail and tried not to stare at him.
“What year are you?”
Focusing on keeping my thoughts off how nice he smelled, I didn’t hear what he said. “I’m majoring in linguistics. I want to be an interpreter for the United Nations.”
“Wow, that’s impressive.” He stopped working, turning his face toward me, surprise evident in his expression. Before I could question it, he smiled again, and an intense heat and no doubt a blush to match flooded my face.
Damn it! Dimples and green eyes are my kryptonite. Not fair!
“No, not really. Languages just come easily to me. Really, I’m pretty terrible at a lot of other things. Like computers, for example. HTML is a language I never could master.”
Grant cleared his throat and resumed typing. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Only three right now: Italian, French, and Spanish. But I’m learning Russian and Mandarin too, and hoping to be fluent by the time I graduate. Maybe even do a study abroad to immerse myself in the language.”
“Your parents must be very proud of you.” Grant finished the coding and logged off the computer.
“Yeah, my mom brags about it like I’m going to be the president or something. It’s silly. I want to translate words, not dictate policy.”
Grant stood and took a single step toward me again. Knowing—and anticipating—I was going to be able to touch him again, I added hastily, “And my boyfriend. He’s super proud of me, too. He’s wonderful, and I love him very much.”
Grant’s eyes widened at my admission and quirked his head to the side, as if in thought. Then he shook his head and smiled, almost in relief, as he packed up his things.
“It was very nice meeting you, Jillian.”
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I felt stupid for blurting that out. Clearly, I was losing my mind.
As Grant exited the cubicle, his chest brushed against mine and I jumped away, already feeling my nipples harden and thanking God I’d worn a padded bra. His arm reached out and caught my elbow to steady me. His touch was like striking flint: hot, explosive and all-consuming. I lost my balance again, stumbling forward to try and sit in the chair.
“Are you okay?” Grant asked, helping to lower me into the seat. He leaned in close, and I got another whiff of his amazing scent. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine. Sorry. I am not used to these heels yet. I’m more of a sneakers kind of girl.” I don’t think he bought the lie. I was mortified. I had made a complete fool out of myself.
“Well, just be careful. I wouldn’t want to see that pretty face get hurt.” I kept my head down, nodding as I bit my lip. I hoped the pain would distract me enough to not cry—at least in front of him.
“I’ll see you around, Jillian. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, reaching for my headphones to answer the barrage of blinking lights. Even if I sucked at it, I needed the distraction from replaying the disaster that just happened over and over in my head.
“Thank you for calling the Allegro Corporation. This is Jillian in sales, how can I direct your call?”
By the time I dared a glance behind me, he was gone.