“Damn kids don’t even have the decency to use the privacy of their own home anymore,” she muttered. She pointed a finger at him and jabbed him in the chest. “I have HBO if I want to see that kind of smutty stuff.” She continued to scowl at Brogan, even though she had inched past us.
“Right. Have a nice evening,” he said as she shuffled her way to what I assumed was her condo and disappeared through the door.
As soon as it closed, we looked at each other. We both erupted in laughter. I doubled over, unable to catch my breath, tears streaming down my face.
After finally finding my composure, I said, “Your neighbor’s a real peach,”
“She has her moments. Can’t say this was one of them,” he said, still chuckling.
He smiled and grabbed my hand, his large calloused one encompassing mine. My whole body tensed in response to the unexpected touch. His eyes were devoid of the heat that was there a few minutes prior, but still managed make my knees buckle. He leaned down and whispered, “Let’s do this again.” He pulled back slowly, his jaw brushing along mine.
I nodded, not looking him in the eyes this time. Because those brown eyes were doing things to my resolve that I wasn’t proud of. How the hell was I supposed to function in the office when he was less than twenty feet away, the only thing between us a door and a set of unforgiving rules?
Chapter Fifteen
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #76
Good girls don’t kiss and tell.
A week had passed since the meeting and my awkward cookie interaction with Brogan. He hadn’t been home the rest of the week when I walked Bruce. It had also been a week since I’d talked to my mom, the longest stretch since, well, I couldn’t remember the last time it’d been that long.
I spent the rest of the day huddled over my laptop, finalizing figures to present to my boss in hopes that I could somehow get into his good graces again in terms of my work performance. By the time I looked at the clock in the corner of my screen, it was well past time to go, and Jackson had fled the building, probably retreating to his home in the sewer.
The interoffice messenger dinged on my computer, and a flashing message from Brogan popped up on the screen.
Brogan: Are you still here?
It didn’t surprise me he was here this late, but it left me wondering how often this happened. Twenty feet. One door. One man I couldn’t seem to shake out of my mind. Ever since The Infamous Cookie Baking Night I was left wondering where the hell I stood with him. There was only one way to find out.
Lainey: Yes
Brogan: Come in my office, please.
I pushed back from my desk and rushed to Brogan’s office. The emptiness of the building, and lack of ambient noise carrying through the halls, amplified the clicking of my heels against the tile.
The door was unlocked when I jiggled the handle, and Brogan was sitting at his desk, his brows furrowed as he had an intense stare off with his computer.
“What do you need, Mr. Starr?” Using his formal name felt like Nutella on my tongue—rich, savory, and foreign. His eyes dilated, and he sat up straighter in his chair. A chill ran down my spine at the total déjà vu moment this was. Except this time, I didn’t have an alarm to interrupt.
“You’re here really late,” he said.
I leaned against the doorframe, not trusting myself to go in any further. “I wanted to get ahead on the project.”
He nodded. “I’m impressed with your work ethic.”
“Thank you, sir.” It felt odd addressing someone who was just a few years older than me so formally, but he hadn’t corrected me thus far.
He paused and tapped his pen against his desk, looking like he was choosing his words carefully. “I know you helped with the presentation last week.”
My breath caught in my throat. If he knew this whole time, why hadn’t he said anything—or put Jackson in his place? “You did?”
He gave his pen a couple of quick clicks and said, “Jackson has never come up with material like that. Plus, when I asked him about the numbers this morning, he fumbled through it.”
I nodded, not quite sure what to say to this.
“Why didn’t you say anything after the meeting?” he demanded. If I didn’t know any better, his expression held an air of disappointment.
“I didn’t want to humiliate him.” I could send mental eye-stabs from across the room to him all week, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I’d taken it too far.
His lips pursed, and he squinted his eyes at me, as if finding the right words to say. “This is a cutthroat business. You need to speak up if someone takes your idea.”
Somehow I decided that I would look like an ass if I’d done that in last week’s meeting, not Jackson. “You’d want me to humiliate your second in command in a company meeting?”