Chapter 12
Twelve
Squeeeeakkkkkk. Squeak. Squeak. Squeeakkk.
Is it too late to rescind the open-door policy?
It’s bad enough that all I could think of yesterday and last night was the only woman I can’t have.
Instead of familiarizing myself with the work I’m taking over, I find the only things I can focus on are Lucy’s wild mane of russet hair, her navy blue and white polka-dotted swing dress, and the soft grunts she’s making as she attempts to turn her desk around.
As soon as she sat behind the heavy, wooden, L-shaped piece of furniture yesterday, she looked up and realized we’d always have direct eye contact if my office door stayed open. Now, she’s spending her break attempting to turn her entire workstation around.
“Need a hand there, Lulu?” Justin, the blond man from yesterday's morning meeting, asks as he and the raven-haired guy, Mike, appear in the doorframe.
Why the fuck do they keep calling her Lulu? What a stupid name .
A smirk curls the corner of my lips as I grab my plain cup of coffee—the one that was waiting for me this morning—and focus on a building proposal.
I wait for Lucy to launch into a tirade about being an independent woman and how she’s fully capable of doing it on her own.
I’m prepared for her to insist that she do it herself.
Instead, I hear her blow out a breath, and I look up to see her straighten and place her hands on her hips, gracing Justin and Mike with a beaming cherry smile.
“Would you guys mind? I’d be so grateful.” She takes a step towards Mike and places a hand on his bicep. Something bitter and sharp rips through my chest that I haven’t felt in a very long time. “I’m sorry about running out the other night, Mike.”
I’m instantly reminded that she went on a date with this guy. I know I said no layoffs, but I think I can make an exception.
Just this once.
“Uh-huh,” he drawls amusedly, not informing her that Anna let slip about her fake emergency. “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.”
Lucy blanches but quickly recovers with a noncommittal laugh as he and Justin pick up either side of the desk and position it the way she wants.
Watching them eat up everything she says as she changes her mind multiple times before settling on an arrangement is fascinating.
The Lucy I know— knew —would have just dealt with staring into my open office.
Anna appears at Lucy’s side, handing her a stack of files, saying something I can’t hear as the women watch the men rearrange her computer.
The whole thing takes less than ten minutes.
But when Justin and Anna break off to have their own conversation, Mike steps just a tad too close to Lucy to be professional, and I’m tempted to break up the little soirée.
Another sharp, bitter feeling blooms. It arcs against my chest like the very nickname I’ve given her. She throws her head back, laughing at something he says, and my skin feels hot as it sears through angry shades.
Pink. Red. Purple.
His head dips to say something in her ear—a whispered secret he shares for no one else to hear but her.
Green.
“What are you doing?” I’m surprised to find myself just outside the door. I don’t even remember getting up from my desk.
Four sets of eyes snap to me, wide and alarmed like they’ve all been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.
Lucy recovers first, her tone saccharine as she replies, “Sorry, Lawson. Just doing a little rearranging.”
They all look at her in surprise at the use of my first name. Her gaze swings to them and back to me before her deep hazel eyes widen in realization. “I mean, Mr. Morgan.”
“Weak save,” Anna mutters, trying to disguise it with a cough.
Mike steps closer to her, setting his hand on the edge of the desk so that it appears as if his arm is actually around her. “Do you two, uh, know each other?” He wags his finger between her and me as he presses into Lucy’s side.
She’s not stupid. She knows exactly what he’s trying to do and takes a step closer to me to put a little distance between them. I’m ashamed that it makes me puff my chest up just a bit.
“I dated Mr. Morgan’s son in high school.”
Then it deflates like a balloon before the feeling of utter ridiculousness settles in my bones. What did I think she was going to say? That I finger-banged her on her graduation night after we’d been drinking together because she walked in on my son cheating on her?
“Interesting. It's kind of a conflict of interest, don’t you think? Should at least probably report that to HR.” Mike straightens and moves next to her again, and a feeling of possessiveness burns through my veins.
She was mine first, little boy. Back off.
If it shows on my face, he doesn’t recognize it.
Lucy does, though. Even though we haven’t spoken a word to each other in the past day and a half, other than me asking a few requests and her giving me clipped answers, she’s still able to read me as well as she could six years ago.
“That’s not necessary. Mary already knows. Besides, it’s not like we dated or anything?” She motions between us with a high-pitched, forced laugh.
“Is that a question? Or…” Anna trails off, watching us both through shrewdly amused eyes. The chatter of the cubicles around us has died to near silence, and I quickly look around the room to find multiple pairs of eyes on us.
“Why doesn’t everyone get back to work?” I calmly state, casually putting my hands in my pockets and refocusing on Mike. “Lucy, if I could have a moment?”
I’m being a total dickhead, and I know it. I have no claim on the woman who has plagued my thoughts for the last six years. My son’s ex-girlfriend. What would I have done if she and Mike were actually dating?
She’s off-limits. Always has been.
Yet, everything in my body relaxes as she steps forward, a familiar sense of home washing over me when our bodies brush as she walks into my office. Instinctively, my hand finds the small of her back as I turn to follow, not missing the way Mike’s eyes narrow on the action.
“I thought you had an open-door policy?” he asks tightly as I begin to shut it behind us.
Smug satisfaction rolls through me, and I throw over my shoulder, “That means you can come to me with any questions or concerns. I didn’t mean it in the literal sense.”
Annoyance flashing over his face is the last thing I see as the door clicks shut, and I pivot to find Lucy staring at me—her arms crossed and full lips set in a frown.
I can’t help the fucking giddy feeling that flutters in my chest and roars to life as we stare at each other. I feel like a goddamn woman, full of emotions I don’t want to be feeling.
Her ponytail sways as she shakes her head and taps her white stiletto-clad foot. “We’re allowed to take breaks, you know.”
“Is this how it’s always going to be? You’re acting like you’re mad at me, and I haven’t done anything.” I walk toward her one slow, calculated step at a time.
Not one hair is out of place, and her makeup is bolder than yesterday.
Her navy swing dress is office professional, yet still somehow manages to make me think of all the dirty things I want to do to her while she’s wearing it.
When I arrived at the office this morning, a little zing of pride shot through my chest at the thought that maybe she’d dressed up for me, though I quickly squashed it.
Lucy Bradee is eighteen years younger than I am. And a mistake I made six years ago that changed my life forever. I can not and will not go there with her again.
But fuck if I don’t want to bend her over my desk right now and have my wicked way with her. I’m ashamed to admit I jerked off to thoughts of doing precisely that—multiple times last night, not to mention this morning in the shower.
“I don’t know, Mr. Morgan . I’m a little confused, if I’m being honest.” She stands her ground as I approach, craning her neck up to maintain eye contact as I step closer than I should.
I still want her just as badly as I did back then, regardless of her connection to my son.
No matter how many times I’ve tried to remove her from my brain, she’s stamped on my damn heart like a forbidden sin.
Images of her on her knees with my hand wrapped around her ponytail flash through my brain. Mentally, I swat them away.
Pull yourself together, Lawson.
“What are you confused about?” My fingers curl in my pockets as a cloud of the same vanilla-lilac perfume she wore when she was younger drifts up to tease my senses.
“Well,” she starts, looking down at the floor as if suddenly unsure of her words. “…considering how we left things all those years ago, and how you always treated me, I guess you’d be a little more… nice?”
Her statement jars me. I blink down at her in surprise. “Nice?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. You’re… different.” She blows out a breath an d tosses her hands up.
“I get it. A lot of time has passed. I’m just used to you being a nice guy, and all you’ve done for the last day and a half is bark orders and make me feel like everything I’m doing is wrong. The Lawson I know?—”
“The Lawson you knew is a very different man now, Lucy.” Against my better judgment, I pull my hand from my pocket and grasp her chin, lifting it so she has to look at me again.
Just like all those nights ago, a visible current of electricity sparks between us at the touch, drawing a gasp from her lips that I want to swallow whole before eliciting an entirely different sound from her mouth.
Her eyes darken, and her breath picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as my fingers tighten ever so slightly.
“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you’re not doing a good job.
However, the Lucy I know wouldn’t be so bothered by a man barking orders , as you so eloquently put it.
The Lucy I know also wouldn’t sass her boss so much. ”