Chapter 20
“Don’t tell me you’re already fucking an employee,” Beckett pulls my attention back to the conversation at hand with a smug grin on his face. I slowly tear my gaze from Daisy’s retreating form, trying to mask any emotion written across my face.
“No,” I say, shoving my hands back in their pockets. “I’m not.”
“Good,” Beckett says as he angles his body towards mine. “Because that would be more problematic than filing bankruptcy for your company.”
I roll my eyes. “We aren’t filing bankruptcy. And, I’m not sleeping with her.”
I’m already annoyed with this conversation. Beckett and I just agreed to put all of our family drama behind us and be friends, and the accusation isn’t making me want to be open to our new partnership. But I remind myself that Beckett is the youngest of two older brothers, so him being annoying is a product of that.
Obviously, I’m not sleeping with Daisy, but because he doesn’t know that, he’s making an assumption based on the shared conversation—or lack thereof, between Daisy and me.
Even if I did sleep with an employee, nothing would come from it, but it’s wrong on levels I don’t want to think about. Daisy may be an employee, but she’s the exception, I think. Not that I’m trying to sleep with her.
Yet.
Beckett’s gaze follows Daisy’s retreating form. “If you aren’t going to sleep with her…”
“I’d rather not discuss my lack of sex life with somebody I’m just becoming friends with,” I say, irritation rising through my body. “But if you’re so curious about Daisy and whether we’re hooking up,” I continue, a sharpness coating my tongue I’m unfamiliar with. “Why don’t you go and ask her about that yourself?”
Beckett chuckles, amusement flickering on his face as his gaze drags back to mine. “Somebody’s jealous.”
I scoff quietly, glancing briefly down the hall where Daisy just rounded a corner. Am I jealous? It’s obvious that there’s something there between Daisy and I; something lingering underneath our new friendship, whether she’d admit it or not. I can’t imagine her being open to a declaration like that any time soon, and it’s quite possible I’m looking for something that may only be one-sided.
“I have no reason to be jealous,” I say after a moment. “Daisy is an employee. Nothing more, nothing less.”
I don’t know why I’m lying. It’s clear Beckett knows I am based on the look he shoots my way, but I shove my hands in my pockets and glance down before he has a chance to say anything about it.
If it were up to me, I’d proudly tell everybody that she and I are friends, but I know how much she’d hate me if I did that. From what I’ve observed, Daisy likes her privacy, and the last thing I want from her is to feel unsafe at work. I don’t want somebody who doesn’t work at the firm to get a suspicion and run off with it, and not that I think Beckett cares enough to do that, I feel protective of Daisy.
“Uh-huh,” Beckett grins, patting my chest in a way that aggravates me more than usual. “You keep telling yourself that.”
A feather ticks in my jaw, but I remain silent. If it weren’t for the potential merger with his company, I wouldn’t be this nice to him. I like to keep my options open in terms of business, and because his company, LC, is doing significantly better than we are, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly.
“But hey,” he chimes. “I told my assistant I’d take her to lunch today since she’s pissed at me, so I gotta get going.”
I furrow my brows. “What’d you do?”
He shrugs. “Made her work on a Saturday. But I’m not an asshole, so I want to make it up to her.”
I hum noncommittally. “Seems more than assistant.”
“You’re right,” he replies cooly. “She’s the biggest pain in my ass, but I don’t want to lose the only employee I can stand for more than an hour, so I gotta kiss ass.”
“Have fun with that,” I reply dryly, reaching out to shake his hand before he bids his goodbyes to both my receptionist, Kinsley, and me.
When he’s entering the elevator, I lean against the doorframe of my office and look at my receptionist. “What’d Daisy want?” I ask casually, but not enough that she doesn’t pick up on what I’m hoping to find out.
Kinsley grins, shimmying her shoulders. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself?”
I look down the hall again, knowing I don’t have to walk too far to get to her. There isn’t a purpose to seeing her truthfully other than that I simply want to. I had a fun time with Daisy over the weekend, and when she texted me a random painting she was working on, on what appeared to be a window ledge with the text: ‘Thanks for having me last night. I’ll be here the rest of the day celebrating my victory’, while I was with my family yesterday, something in me clicked. I wanted to see her again. Wanted to build on our friendship and learn who Daisy truly is underneath her closed-off exterior.
“Come on, Mr. Moore,” Kinsley replies, looking at her nails again. “Stop acting like you’re scared of her and figure out what she wants. You ask about her enough.”
My eyes narrow. “Remind me why I decided not to fire you?”
She grins, flicking her gaze up through her lashes. “Because you’d suffer without me.”
“True,” I grumble, pushing off my door frame to retreat down the hall. “I’ll be back in a few.”
After being here for a few weeks, the remaining employees we had slowly started adjusting to the change in leadership. They’ve proven they want to work here, so I’ve eased back a lot more because they know what to expect from me, which goes both ways. I tend to take the approach of being harsher in the beginning and laid back when the work results are proven successful, and that’s what happened. We’ve been slowly hiring new people, plus Beckett said we could take some of his employees he didn’t have the patience for and felt bad firing, so I’ll be meeting with some of them later this week, which, I’m truthfully looking forward to. I’m proud of my team and the numbers they’ve been pushing out lately and am hopeful the success will only continue to climb.
Rounding the corner, I nod to a few passing people before the nerves trickle in, my chest squeezing tighter the closer I get to her office.
I debated asking Daisy out to lunch today but got wrapped up in meetings that took longer than intended outside of the personal visit from Beckett, so I’m thinking about proposing dinner. I don’t anticipate her saying no, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she did. Daisy’s a wildcard and often keeps me on my toes. But when I think about asking her, the nerves heighten more than necessary and I worry that she’ll be put off or disregard the offer.
I knock at her door when I approach, slowly pushing it open without warning to find her hands folded on her stomach, leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. For a split second, I forget why I came in here because I’m lost in her beauty. Her curly hair falls back behind her chair, and her caramel skin glows against the sunlight peeking in from the blinds. Her white blouse makes her skin pop even more. Before I have more time to marvel, to try figuring out who Daisy Adams is, her head lifts as her gaze finds mine. A flicker of surprise crosses her face before she stifles a yawn.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she says carefully, although her normally raspy voice is thick.
“No?” My lips twitch as I fold my arms over my chest and lean against her door frame. “Then what were you doing?”
She contemplates, rolling her head to look back up at the ceiling. “Okay, maybe I was taking a nap. But in my defense, I’m tired and bored.”
I raise my eyebrows, trying to come off as unhappy that she’s not working but not minding in the slightest. “Do you not have anything to do?”
“No,” she says to the ceiling, “I do. I always have stuff to do, but if I did it, I wouldn’t have anything to do for the remainder of the week, and sitting here wasting away all day is torture.”
I bite back my smile. “Sounds a bit dramatic, Daisy Girl.”
She turns her head to me, her eyes narrowing in more contemplation as she regards me. “Why do you call me that?”
I raise my eyebrows slightly, tilting my head. “Call you what? Daisy Girl?”
“Yeah.”
I shrug, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t know. Because I like it.”
She nods, seemingly pleased with that answer. “You don’t normally come down this way,” she observes after a moment, appearing almost nervous to bring it up. Her hands are folded across her lap, but her index fingers twitch against each other.
She’s right, too—I don’t normally come down and visit her. Our friendship is still somewhat new and I don’t want to push boundaries she may have, but also because our schedules don’t often align. I have access to viewing everybody’s work calendars, and her free times are during my busiest times, so even if I wanted to take a small break to visit, I wouldn’t be able to without running late for another meeting.
“I suppose I don’t,” I agree, shifting to cross an ankle over the other. “I wanted to check in, is all. You were pretty…tired this morning.”
She snorts, stretching her arms overhead before shifting to sit forward. I force myself to look down so I don’t get caught fully appreciating her body, although more than anything I’d love to stare at her as one would a fully painted canvas. In awe, admiration, and wonder.
“Tired is an understatement,” she replies, adjusting her neck before blinking a few times to fully wake up. “I can be pretty crabby in the mornings.”
I grin. “Couldn’t tell.”
She smiles her response back before resting her chin in the palm of her hand, watching me intently as the silence fills the space between us. It’s not uncomfortable, almost an odd comfort that settles deep within me. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she starts. “But did you come in here to check in? Or was there something you needed?”
She doesn’t ask in a way that makes me feel put off, but the brashness takes me by surprise. I’d spent the majority of the conversation in awe over her, and I hadn’t prepared how I was going to ask her to come over for dinner. Or if I should.
My face heats slightly, and suddenly, my back burns with the same intensity of heat. I’m tempted to reach back and pull my shirt away from my skin so my body temperature cools down, but somehow, I doubt I’d ever get over how Daisy’s presence makes me feel.
I’ve never experienced these types of nerves before—not really, anyway. The kind that makes your knees buckle and legs shake. Usually, I’m casual and relaxed, and the girl I’m pursuing is seemingly as interested as I am, so it isn’t hard to assume what her answer will be. But with Daisy…there’s a lot more at stake.
Maybe it’s because I like her, and I want her to say yes to coming over tonight.
Plus, I don’t know if she likes me.
“Ah,” I rub the back of my neck nervously, which makes her tilt her head curiously. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight.”
If she’s shocked, she doesn’t show it, only staring at me like she either didn’t process what I was saying or doesn’t believe that I’m offering this for her. I’m assuming it’s the ladder because she shifts to sit forward at her desk, still watching me with a wariness that makes my stomach sink.
“If you want to, anyway” I continue, trying to act as casual as possible although I’d rather pace nervously. “It’s totally cool if you don’t. I figured since we had a good time on Saturday it might be nice to get to know each other on a deeper level.”
She regards me silently like she’s at an internal war with herself before leaning back in her chair, a coolness in her tone that tells me she’s trying to mask her feelings. “Do you think that’s a good idea, seeing as you’re my boss?”
Listen. I’m all for employees standing their ground and wanting to protect themselves against any potential harm in the workplace. I am. I value an employee who can advocate for themselves as much as the next, but hearing her continually bring up my being her boss is starting to aggravate me. She’s right, and maybe that’s part of the reason why it bothers me so much, but at the same time, we’ve toed this line numerous times already. At the bar, at my house, texting loosely despite it only being a few days since we’ve hung out. I’m confident this is a defense mechanism—her way of protecting herself from any potential harm, but fuck. I’d never dream of intentionally hurting Daisy. I’m a human, and we’re flawed, so it’s likely that if we continue hanging out, I’ll hurt her eventually, but I’m going to try my damn hardest to never do that.
“I don’t know,” I say. “You tell me.”
She rears her head, seemingly shocked by my candidness. “What will people say if they find out I’m spending time with you outside of work?”
I shrug and glance out into the hallway. “I don’t care what people say, or think, for that matter. We’re friends.”
“But I do care,” she says carefully. “I’ve worked hard to get to this spot in my career, and the last thing I want is for anybody to think you favor me.”
My brows furrow. “I don’t think anybody would assume that.”
She smiles softly, sadly. “Then you’re ignorant.”
I watch her with the same intensity she’s giving me, not totally buying the whole ‘people at work care about us’ type thing. We’re friends. If she’s truly uncomfortable and doesn’t want to have dinner, that’s fine, but I think it’s something deeper than that. If I had to guess based on the constant shifting in her chair and how quickly her eyes dart from one place to the next, I’m assuming she’s scared to get close to people. To me. It’s like her body totally curled in on herself after I extended the invite.
“Why are you scared to get close to me?”
The suddenness in my question definitely surprises her because her eyes widen and her mouth parts. The rise and fall of her chest quickens, but not enough to be concerned about it. She’s nervous I asked such a direct question, and honestly? I’m glad it took her by surprise. People aren’t so guarded and closed off without reason, and I think Daisy is somebody who is used to being abandoned, therefore, thinks it’s easier to push people away. I’ve gathered this about her from the first time I met her and she threatened to walk out with Sam. She was willing to risk an entire career over a friend, and I don’t know very many people who would do that unless they were worried about being alone.
The air thickens the longer my question lingers, but I have all the time in the world to wait for her answer. To wait for her, because something tells me this girl is worth it.
She grimaces and looks away momentarily, swallowing thickly. “I’m not.”
“Sure doesn’t seem that way.”
She sighs, dropping her hand to reach for a pen on her desk before fidgeting with it. “I don’t like getting close to many people.”
I nod. “I gathered that.”
Her eyes flick to mine through her lashes before she focuses back on the pen in her hand. “It just…feels wrong to be spending time with you outside of here because you’re my boss. And I know it’s probably annoying that I’ve brought that up at least once every time in our conversations, but I can’t help it.”
I shrug from my place in the doorway. “You’re not annoying,” I say, finding her gaze again. “You’re allowed to feel uncomfortable and anxious about the things you go through in your life, even if it is only an invitation to dinner.”
She chuckles but watches me with an interest that wasn’t there before. She bites her bottom lip and glances away momentarily before resting her chin back in her hand like she’s contemplating all the pros and cons of spending more time alone with me. “What time is dinner?”
I quickly drop my head and smile, not wanting to spook her by making a big deal over this. “Seven?”
She nods. “Seven works.”
“Cool,” I smile, holding in the actual excitement expanding throughout my chest. “Text me when you’re on the way.”
She must sense my excitement from across the way because her lips twitch, and she rolls them into her mouth. “I will.”
I’m nearly out the door before I pop my head back in. “By the way,” I say. “Do you have any food allergies or anything you don’t like?”
“Uh.” Her eyes lift to look at the ceiling in contemplation, her lips turning up in a smile. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Sweet, I’m looking forward to it. See you tonight.”