Chapter 19
19
My coworkers stare at me with wide eyes as I slam my way around the breakroom, preparing a lunch that will sustain my physical needs while simultaneously leaving me wholly unsatisfied.
“What?” I finally snap after too many minutes of their weighted, silent watching.
“Nothing,” Oscar says quickly, averting his gaze to the meal in front of him.
Further whispers among them that clearly aren’t nothing don’t escape my notice.
At the mention of PMS, I really do snap.
“Just because a woman is in a bad mood does not automatically mean she is suffering from premenstrual syndrome!” I yell. “You’re all obsessed with blowjob jokes and other men’s sex lives, but do I go around accusing you of dry spells and the desire to live vicariously through an example of a male you hope to emulate? Noooooooo.”
“Preach it, my sister.” Carly strolls into the room and offers me a fist to bump .
I do. Thank the universe for a small modicum of female solidarity.
“Although.” She tips her head to the side as she waits for her lunch to reheat in the new microwave. “I must admit that I’ve noticed Pete whistling around the office today. It’s a nice change of pace from his usual grumpiness.”
“He definitely got laid last night.” Joel smirks.
Carly glares at him.
I glare, too.
Peter did not get laid last night. He refused my offer for orgasmic mood stabilization! His obviously good mood today is inexplicable. Why can’t the man follow the rules? Any rules?
“You’re the building HR rep.” I turn on her as quickly as any animal competing for a single food source. Not that I am competing with her. Not that Peter is a food source. “I’d like to file a complaint about this hostile work environment.”
She winces as she glances between me and the men seated around the table who don’t look the least bit threatened. “Really?”
Oscar narrows his eyes at me. “So…it’s clear we need to get you laid next. Tell us your preferences, Dr. Fowler. We’ll find someone who checks all your boxes.”
He says this with a devious grin that implies he knows what my preferences are.
“I will cut you.” I threaten him with my plastic butter knife.
Screw making friends with these guys. They’re all potential suspects anyway. Chet definitely isn’t ignoring Chester Paramus. Proof that my coworkers don’t know everything.
Peter strides into the room, replacing his conspicuous whistling with a long-suffering sigh. “What did you do to her?”
“Offered to get her laid,” Finley answers with yet another devious grin.
Carly wrings her hands in the corner .
Peter frowns at me.
I hate that stupid frown.
He questions slowly, “Why do they think you need to get laid?”
“Why do they think you need to get laid?” I counter.
I’m aware of everyone’s gazes volleying between us with more than a hint of interest, but their morbid curiosity isn’t enough to make me back down.
“Because I’m an exacting asshole?” he guesses, glancing at our coworkers for support.
They nod.
“Why are you an exacting asshole?” I press.
Peter grins. There’s an indescribable sharpness to the expression. “Because I need to get laid.”
My hands tremble with the very real desire to strangle this infuriating man.
Since we have an audience, and Dr. Peter Carrington is my boss in this building, I storm out of the break room before I can incriminate myself further.
He enters my closed office shortly after—without knocking—and lies down on my couch like he’s planning to enjoy a post-lunch snooze. His crosses his arms behind his head and crosses his legs at the ankles. He’s far too tall to fit comfortably. “What’s going on?”
“I’m working,” I answer. It comes out more like a snarl.
“Okay. I’d like to think I’m not a total egomaniac, so it’s entirely plausible that your bad mood today has nothing to do with me.” He inhales so deeply that the sound settles in the space, soothing the vibrating atoms around me. “Either way, I’m going to need you to talk to me. Between last night and this morning, I can’t think of a single thing that happened to put you in such a foul mood.”
“We’re not supposed to have these sorts of discussions at work,” I snap, wasting time by answering emails since I can’t resume my investigation with Peter nearby.
“So, this is about me.” He abruptly sits up, clasping his hands between his knees. “What did I do?”
“Work,” I remind him, gesturing to the empty office around us with my pointer finger.
“We can’t have a makeout session on the couch at work. That doesn’t mean work can be an excuse for you not to communicate with me again.”
“Have I kicked you out of my office, Dr. Carrington?”
“Do you want to?”
“A little.”
He sighs. “Did Joel set me up on another date?”
“No.” I’m startled to realize I might have actually resorted to physical violence had that been the case.
“Did they offer to set you up on a date?”
“Sort of.” Why did that offer make me only threaten violence rather than commit it?
“Would you like to go? On a date with someone else?”
I whirl to face him. “Why would you ask me that?”
He shrugs, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. “Just because I have no problem with you being my first-and-only intimate romantic relationship doesn’t mean you feel the same.”
“I don’t want to date anyone else.” I shake my head to further convey the truth in my words.
“You’re sure?” he presses, studying me carefully.
“Yes, I’m sure!”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
I watch, more than a little off-balance, as he exits my office, leaving the door open behind him.
I feel awful. This is another reason emotions are bad. When mine burn, they burn hot enough to melt those around me. Even my mother had no idea what to do with me when I would scream or sob or laugh uncontrollably as a child.
Peter doesn’t seem as unsure of how to react when he returns to my office with a calm expression and his laptop. He reclaims his original position of lying on my couch with his laptop perched on his stomach.
“What are you doing?” I question carefully, keeping my voice neutral.
“Working. You have a very comfortable couch in your office. I’m still recovering from influenza, so I’m usurping it for the day. As your boss, I’m exerting my influence on you to allow me this.”
“Really?”
“No.” He glances past his screen with a small smile. “If anyone else asks, that’s what I’ll say.”
I don’t understand. “Why are you really in here?”
“Because I want to be close to you,” he whispers.
Oh.
That makes me feel all warm and fluttery inside.
Until I turn back to my computer and realize I won’t be able to get any investigating done with Peter as a witness.
I don’t want him to go though. I guess today will be the first day I take a crack at improving Chester research capabilities on my own. I warned Chet that this investigation would take considerable time. Surely, he understands there will be days when I can’t maintain my cover. He wouldn’t want me to risk the secrecy of my mission in any way.
“You won’t scare me away, Dr. Fowler,” Peter murmurs, redrawing my attention back to him.
“Excuse me?”
He gazes at me evenly. “You won’t scare me away. I’m neither intimidated by your emotions nor threatened by your brilliance. I want you. I’m committed to achieving my goal. It’s as simple as that. ”
I study the air in front of me, but it holds no answers. “Why are you telling me this?”
He tips his head against the arm of the couch then taps his temple. “Part of the hypothesis I’m forming.”
“Okaaay. What is your hypothesis?”
He shakes his head as his fingers begin tapping against his keyboard. “Still testing. Ask me again in a few days.”
I make a mental note to do exactly that. Though I don’t completely understand his motivation for making those statements to me, they bring me unexpected relief. I’d never considered before that others were threatened or intimidated by me. It’s a strange thought. One I can’t quite seem to make sense of.
I settle in to study Finley’s theoretical formulas for a bio mesh polymer coating for a heart valve only to be interrupted by a knock on my office door.
Carly steps in, multiple chocolate bars in her hands. “Everything under control in here?”
She glances at Peter pointedly.
“Splendidly so,” he mumbles, his focus on his computer.
She pops her eyebrows. “Right.” A smile brightens her face considerably as she approaches me and holds out her offerings. “Thought you might need these.”
“Why?” I glance between her face and the chocolate.
“Is it that time of the month?” she whispers before glancing over her shoulder.
Peter chuckles but says nothing.
“No,” I immediately say before doing some mental calculations. Oh. Maybe.
I’ve rarely had reason to carefully track my monthly cycle. It frustrates me to no end when it’s the first question asked at a doctor’s visit—even if I’m there for a suspected ear infection.
Carly glares at Peter. “And what’s so funny to you, Dr. Carrington? ”
“The fact that you’re offering her chocolate-covered nougat,” he returns calmly. “She hates that texture.”
It’s true. That creamy, gooey center makes me gag. I don’t care if it’s covered in the finest chocolate in the world.
Carly glances down at the candy in her hands then volleys her gaze between me and the man sprawled out comfortably on my office couch. “Is there anything you two need to disclose to HR?”
Chet would never let me live it down if I did, so I shake my head. Then, I tilt my head as I briefly consider that anyone in this building could be the mole. It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone on the R&D team.
Peter raises his eyebrows at Carly. “I should probably disclose that Dr. Fowler likely saved my life when she forced her way into my apartment and dragged me to the ER when I was running a one-hundred-and-four-degree fever from influenza.”
Carly turns her shocked gaze to me. “You broke into his apartment?”
“No.” I shake my head wildly. “He gave me a key.”
Carly’s brow flattens as she returns her attention to Peter. “Care to disclose why you gave her a key to your place?”
He returns her gaze with a neutral expression though my anxiety skyrockets. “She’s new in Paramus, but we’ve known each other for years. I gave her a key for emergencies in case she needed help with anything.” His mouth twists to the side. “Turned out, I had an emergency, and I was the one who needed help.”
“So, you two are friends?” Carly presses.
I nod.
Peter offers nothing.
“I’m not going to start receiving complaints from your team that you’re engaging in favoritism, am I?” Carly asks him.
Peter scoffs. “She’s always been a far more brilliant engineer than me. If anything, Dr. Fowler will be complaining about the rest of us asking for her input all the time.”
“Hey!” I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t complain about anyone asking for my help!”
Peter shakes his head before returning his focus to his laptop. “Nothing to disclose here, Carly. Unless knowing each other in grad school counts.”
Joel joins the apparent party in my office. He stuffs his hands in his slacks while grinning at me. “So, I texted my buddy. He’d love to meet you for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, come on!” Peter sits up and throws his laptop into the space where his legs were. He gestures toward Joel while staring at Carly. “How is that appropriate?”
Carly shrugs. “I’ll allow it. It’s a nice gesture from a coworker.”
“Well, I outrank you here,” Peter says with an air of dominance that’s foreign from my experience. “I’m overruling. It’s not appropriate. No more blind date set ups. No more conversations about how I need to get laid all the time. Definitely no implying that she needs to get laid.”
Joel’s grin doesn’t lessen in the slightest. “You feel very strongly about this, huh?”
“Yes!” Peter yelps.
I don’t know what’s going on today, but Chet’s sudden, unexpected appearance in my doorway threatens the last shred of my sanity.
“What’s going on in here?” he demands.
“Nothing,” we all say as a united team front.
He glances at everyone in turn with obvious skepticism before settling his gaze on me. “Dr. Fowler. With me.”
He strides down the hallway without waiting to see if I’ll follow.
Peter stands and stares at Chet’s wake. “What the fuck? ”
The mood in the room is decidedly tense.
I attempt to lighten their shared anxiety by also rising and collecting my purse. “Carly, perhaps I should disclose that Chet and I attended undergrad together. Truthfully, I’ve known him for many more years than I’ve known Peter.”
“I thought you two were friends?” Joel asks, seeming nervous.
“We are,” I assure him.
“Why does it seem like you’re in trouble?”
I shrug. I can’t exactly say that it’s likely because I’ve made zero progress, and Chet normally possesses zero patience. He’s been shockingly patient thus far. It’s likely worn thin.
Joel steps forward, his expression serious. “Do you need backup?”
Peter holds up a staying hand. “No. She’s more than capable of fighting her own battles. Mr. Goulding didn’t request a team meeting. He asked for Dr. Fowler. The rest of us will continue with our workday unless told otherwise.”
His confidence in me buoys my spirits.
“Thank you, Dr. Carrington,” I say.
He nods. “If you need anything, you know how to reach me.”
For the first time, I feel like maybe I do.