Chapter 18
18
Andrew
Another late night leads to another missed workout this morning. Though I can’t blame Juni. Juniper , for it. She left just after eleven, insisting I stay put instead of walking her home.
The night was low-key, but there weren’t any lulls in the conversation. It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with anyone other than family. It was fun, relaxing. Unexpectedly so. That’s not a bad thing. Quite the opposite. It felt . . . natural, like we’ve known each other so much longer than we have.
My mom once mentioned how souls find each other through the chaos of the universe. Drawn together. That we don’t just have soul mates in this life, but souls we connect with on a different level.
Tonight was the first time I felt the truth in that. For a few hours, I was my old self. The surfer, the rowdy kid cruising Sunset on a Saturday night, the guy who used to know how to have a good time before the responsibility kicked in. It was good to get a glimpse of me again.
I also found out, after losing fifty bucks, that Juni’s as serious about blackjack as she is about ice cream. She’s a card shark, and I learned not to bet against her.
Pretty sure that’s accurate in life as well. Even though she’s not had it easy. She is still an enigma, yet I don’t feel threatened by that.
Last night was good, but every night is good with her.
The problem is that I spent hours unable to fall asleep after she left. With a million tasks on my mind and falling behind with work, I lay in bed and strategize my plan of attack for today. I need this meeting to go well.
I only get one shot at landing the account, which is why I missed my workout. I spent the time researching everything I could online and adding to the file my team created.
Dressed in my favorite suit, the one I was wearing when my dad promoted me to CEO, I step off the elevator, ready to tackle the day. Wait . . . I got off too soon and move backward onto the elevator again. But a quick glance to double-check the number has me realizing I’m on the correct floor already. “Sorry,” I tell the other passengers as I walk off again, embarrassed I don’t recognize my reception area.
Looking around, I finally look toward the desk at the other end for clarification. Christiansen Wealth Management in brushed brass letters hangs on the wall. Just beneath sits Juni, whose eyes are locked on mine. She waves to me, and says, “Please hold, and I’ll transfer you.”
As soon as she transfers the call, she covers the microphone with her hand and smiles. She says, “You said anything I want.” There’s a hint of smugness in her words.
“I meant a few plants, not the Amazon jungle.”
“You think it’s too much?” she asks, gesturing to the rainforest she’s created in a corner of the reception area.
“It’s a lot of . . .” When I see her smile fall, I add, “of goodness,” turning it around. I am learning not to underestimate this spitfire in front of me. This can be handled on another day.
Her smile returns, brightening my day but not successfully distracting me from that mess of leaves behind me. She says, “I’m so glad you like it. I was worried.”
“No need,” I say, freaking out on the inside. “It’s like a casino in here pumping in the fresh oxygen.”
“More oxygen increases productivity,” she sings the last word.
I scan the room once more. “I’m sure it will.” Trying not to lose my composure, I decide it’s best if I leave while I’m ahead. “Have a good day.”
“You too, Mr . Christiansen.”
Stopping in the doorway, I see a plant on every desk in the office—little flowering plants, succulents, miniature versions of the ones in the lobby of my apartment building, and other familiar varieties. Taking a deep breath, I slowly exhale, and then reply, “Ms. Jacobs,” without turning back and continuing on my way.
When I reach Mary’s desk, I say, “What are we going to do?”
She starts laughing. “Well, you did give her free rein.” I value that I don’t have to explain to Mary what I’m upset about. She just comes along for the ride, taking my brain’s detours in stride.
“I did, and I won’t take it back, but we have to do something about all those plants. I half expected an anaconda to slither out of there. That’s not the first impression I want clients to have upon their arrival.”
Her laughter wanes but then picks up again. “I’m sorry, Andrew. It’s like a transformation gone wrong. I’m not sure what her vision was when she ordered all those plants, but her heart was in the right place. She gave me a peace lily. Isn’t it lovely?”
Half-heartedly glancing at it, I reply, “Yeah, sure. You really think I should just let it go?”
“Yes,” she replies, so certain it’s not a big deal. “So what if they think we’re all a bunch of plant lovers? We could be called worse things.” When her laughter picks up again, I shake my head and go inside my office. Leave it to Juni to turn my most loyal employee against me.
Juniper Jacobs is good. She’s very good.
Before I settle into my morning routine, I find myself standing next to my chair, staring at a sunny yellow pot with a plant sprouting out the top sitting on my console table.
Not just any plant— a phallic-shaped cactus covered in sharp needles.
Did she run out of the regular plants before she got to me?
Bending sideways, I take in the sight before me. I’m pretty sure, judging by this cactus, Juni thinks I’m an asshole, or a dick more specifically, by the shape of it. Getting the only plant in the office that can stab you is not a good sign for our relationship.
I drop my stuff on the desk and head for the door with the yellow pot in hand. But as soon as I open it, I find Juni standing there, ready to knock.
“I was just coming to see you,” I say.
“Jinx, you owe me a coffee.”
I can’t even say my patience is worn thin because it’s nonexistent this morning. “You got me last time, but this time, I have to say something. That’s not how jinx works.” My tone is short, and when I see Mary watching our exchange, I whisper, “May I speak with you in private?”
With a simple nod, we move into the office, and I close the door. Despite my irritation, she looks like a movie star ready for her close-up, and I’ve known a few, even dated one. Her hair flows over her shoulders in soft waves. Soft pinks highlight her cheeks and lips while black lashes bring out her eyes. The short-sleeved black sweater has a rounded neckline, and the pleated black skirt flares out.
I triple-checked the dating policy yesterday. Dating her wouldn’t break any rules, but as Nick pointed out, there is an “expectation” of upper management, and you can’t get more upper than me. A friendship with Juni isn’t prohibited, but these thoughts I’ve been having would not go over well with our board members if they found out.
They won’t find out.
I’ll make sure of it.
Breaking my train of thought that was fixated on her, she asks, “What is it, Mr . Christiansen.” She’s going to do that every time, isn’t she?
I thought the formality of the name was a good way for us to remember the parts we play in each setting of our day. Apparently, I thought wrong. The way she’s taking her anger out on me has twisted, and it’s sounding dirty coming from her lips. So fucking hot.
Forming a T with my free hand and the plant, I call a time-out. “Okay, okay. Point taken. We can drop the mister part. Ow—shit!”
She moves quick, taking the plant from me and setting it down. Turning back, she says, “Let me see.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Taking my hand anyway, she analyzes my open palm as two tiny blood spots appear. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”
“It’s no big deal. I don’t need tending to. I’ll survive.” Green. That’s the dominant color of her eyes in this light as she looks up at me under the aforementioned dark lashes. Even the diamond stud earrings she’s wearing can’t compete with the sparkle in her eyes.
“I know you will, but I can clean the blood. That way, it won’t get on your contracts.” I hadn’t thought of that.
“There’s a small plastic kit in the bottom left drawer of the console.”
Moving around me, her skirt balloons over her legs as she kneels. “Found it.” She returns to where she left me standing with the kit already open. Setting it aside, she rips the foil packet of the alcohol swab. “I was having fun with the cactus.” Although she was smiling when we started this conversation, it’s now faded. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
She dabs not just the two spots where needles got the better of me but my entire palm, taking her time. “It’s a joke gone bad.”
“I’m going to live.”
Dragging the swab slowly across my palm with care, she says, “You have a long lifeline.”
“My mom’s always been happy about that.”
“And you’re not?” she asks, a smile playing on her lips while holding my hand like it’s precious cargo.
Standing this close to her as she cares for me, I find my breath deepening. While she gazes at my hand, I stare at her. She raises her chin to look up at me, and whispers, “Drew?”
She’s too close—the floral scent of her perfume is delicate like her, those lips pale pink and so damn kissable, but it’s her proximity, the feel of her pressing her body just shy of mine that has me pulling my hand away and returning to my desk. “I think . . .”
I don’t know what to think, but the thoughts I do have are fucking with my brain. Juni confuses me. We say we’re one thing, but I’m starting to feel very different about her, and that makes me question everything.
What the fuck am I doing?
I have a Fortune 500 company to run. My employees— my family —depend on me to be focused. Deep breath.
While she stares at me with what looks like shock, I try to get myself under control. She can’t call me Drew in the office. I have to draw the line. Surely, she understands that.
I point at the phone as if that’s an excuse, and say, “I need to prepare for my meeting.”
A light knock is followed by Mary entering. “Sorry for interrupting.” It’s a welcome disruption to the crazed thoughts I’ve been having. “Are you ready to go over your schedule for today?”
Juni nods as if she’s somehow inconsequential in this situation. If she only knew, to me, she’s the opposite. I’m realizing now that I’m invested in a relationship, whether it ever grows beyond friends, more than I should, considering our positions.
“Thank you for the plant, Ms. Jacobs.”
I see Mary’s attention shift to the plant on the desk. Hiding her smile behind her hand, she’s at least respectful enough not to laugh out loud.
Juni says, “You’re welcome, but I realized I put the wrong plant in your office.” She hurries out and then returns quickly. The clay pot is green, and the leafy vine overflows on the side. “It’s a pothos ivy. They bring wealth and fortune.”
When she sets it on the edge of my desk, Mary says, “That was so thoughtful, Juni.”
Swiping the cactus by the pot, she adds, “It’s nothing, really.” But I feel the heat of her gaze. There’s no fire or anger, not sadness or sympathy. There’s nothing at all, making it impossible to read her genuine emotions. And I hate it. Hate when she hides herself away from me.
But, thank God , I catch the connection we still share hanging by a thread in an exchanged glance just before she reaches the door. “Thank you, Ms. Jacobs.”