Chapter 11 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
@pancakesareelite:
Oops! Sorry! I didn’t
know that would happen!
@theanswerisno:
Ha, it’s okay.
How were you supposed to know?
@pancakesareelite:
You’re weirdly patient with me.
My very own Yoda.
@theanswerisno:
Better you will get
@pancakesareelite:
Oh no. Please don’t. You don’t
have to text like he would.
@theanswerisno:
Your turn play, yes, hmm…
@pancakesareelite:
Link! Stop!
@theanswerisno:
Stop I will not
@pancakesareelite:
YODA CAN’T EVEN TEXT
@theanswerisno:
The greatest way to learn is to do
@pancakesareelite:
You’re an absolute fool
@theanswerisno:
Love it you do
@pancakesareelite:
Maybe I do
If only I’d thought to take my hideous safety boots along, I could have explored the site.
I’d been in such a panic to leave that I rushed out without them.
But it was worth it. Worth the long drive.
Worth the cost of the gas. Worth the way Mr. Carden’s face changed when I’d handed over those drawings.
And now I needed to clean up this mess before he returned and remembered that I was the mess beyond saving.
The first email in my inbox was an apology from him, sent around the time he’d have arrived on-site. Well, if I’d seen that before I left, it would have saved me a lot of trouble.
Who am I kidding? I’d still have reprinted those drawings, and I’d still have taken them to him because I knew he needed them. He’d been under so much pressure that I worried he might crack.
I wheeled toward his empty desk and took one of the thick geometric guidelines from his stack of books. After studying it for about an hour, I tweaked the intersection design for the seven billionth time.
Quick but soft footsteps drew my attention. Mr. Carden walked in. The frown that had lived between his brows was gone, but his shoulders were still a little tenser than usual.
“Mr. Carden.” I gestured at my laptop screen, hoping to catch him before he settled in and sent his focus elsewhere. “Do you have a moment? I think maybe this is the one.” I gave him a double thumbs-up.
One side of his mouth lifted in what seemed to be a smile. A lopsided, genuine half smile.
It was like leveling up every time I got that out of him.
“I admire your confidence,” he said, and hesitated at my desk. Without looking my way, he dropped his voice low, barely a whisper. “Lunch first. For you.”
He put a foil-wrapped square on my desk, which was exactly the size of a sandwich and smelled exactly like a sandwich, and the condensation appearing underneath it hinted at a warm sandwich, and while all the evidence pointed at “sandwich,” I couldn’t bring myself to make sense of the situation.
He tapped the mystery sandwich-shaped parcel. “Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten. I never see you eat lunch. But if you’re hungry, it’s yours. Chicken salad… which I think you like? If not, no pressure. Someone will eat it.”
My breath hitched. I didn’t know Lincoln Carden listened to me when I nervously rambled on and on. My stomach tingled and fluttered… because of hunger. Probably. Not because my handsome boss was also kind and attentive. Nope. Not that. Just excited to eat.
Before I could answer, he was already at his desk, unwrapping his own foil square.
“Thank you.” I tipped my head and took the sandwich, enjoying the way it warmed my fingertips.
I unwrapped it, already salivating. I hazarded a glance his way, but he was in his zone already. His headset fixed across his ears.
Spinning away, I bit into the warm, soft bread with crispy edges, and my tastebuds lit up. I’d never eaten a chicken salad sandwich as delicious as this one. “So freaking good,” I whispered to myself as a small moan escaped me. There was a hint of chili I wasn’t expecting.
His head snapped upward, his eyes round.
“Sorry. I thought you couldn’t hear with the…” I pointed at my ears, which were prickling and hot.
He tugged the headset off and gulped. “Haven’t turned them on yet. Sometimes I forget or I just wear them to deter interruptions.”
I slammed a hand over my heated face. “Sorry for interrupting you, then. Well, not sorry. It’s your own fault for giving me a sandwich so tasty. What did you expect?”
“Nothing less.” His gaze dipped to his computer screen, but I enjoyed the underlying playfulness in his tone.
I’d bet Lincoln Carden was a lot of fun to be around when he was in his element.
He was already kind, smart, and ridiculously good-looking. I couldn’t add fun to that. No, not fair.
Heat kept radiating through my face, my chest, and now my brain felt as though it were being flooded with inappropriate hormones.
Was this a side effect of the chili? “Thank you. And it’s really good,” I rambled in an attempt to say anything except what I was thinking.
“But I think I said that already. Where did you get them? Did you know they call this a chicken mayo in South Africa?”
His dark brows lifted, giving me the smallest glimpse of his soft brown eyes behind those glasses.
But he rarely gave me more than a split second.
He lowered his head and popped the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth.
“Zoya’s. I’ll show you next time. It’s not too far away.
” He crumpled the foil, squeezing it until it disappeared in the palm of his hand.
“Chicken mayo, huh? I had no idea. But it makes sense.” He passed the foil ball from one hand to the other and continued rolling it.
“When you’re done eating, please print the alignment. ”
After polishing off the meal and enjoying the weight of it in my belly, I floated over to the plotter, grabbed the drawing, and then spread it across the large desk in our office.
Mr. Carden stood and sucked in a deep breath.
He lifted a scale ruler and his trusty red pen as though he were going into battle.
He walked over to the desk beside me and leaned over it, placing his instruments down before spreading his long fingers wide, and for a moment, I wondered what it might feel like to be touched by him.
My heart rate skyrocketed.
What am I doing? What am I thinking? It was just a sandwich. Come on, Lily. Get a grip. Focus.
I was probably ovulating. And a handsome man handed me a delicious meal and expected nothing in return. I couldn’t be blamed.
Seconds passed and it was the longest he’d gone without making a correction. I glanced up at his face where a deep divot divided his dark brows as he stared a hole through the drawing. His wide chest lifted slowly, and before exhaling, he murmured, “I’m sorry about earlier. It wasn’t fair.”
“I messed up, so I deserved it. And if you give me a bad evaluation, I can’t even blame you, but please don’t.”
He shook his head. “It was an accident. I’m not going to bad-mouth you because of a spilled cup of coffee. Although I am mildly concerned about how much caffeine you’re consuming. The average person shouldn’t have more than four cups a day.”
I giggled, but for some reason, my eyes stung at the gentleness of his tone.
“I really am sorry about the yelling and the cursing.”
“You weren’t that bad…” I gulped as memories of Douglas’s tantrums flashed across my mind, keeping me there like my very own horror house.
Mr. Carden paused, taking me in. When I didn’t say anything else, he continued.
“I was a lot worse than I needed to be. Today was just… hard. I’ve had a strange day.
Stranger weekend,” he continued in that low voice he used when he stepped out of being Mr. Carden and let me in to see what Lincoln might be like.
He straightened, gnawing on his bottom lip, but kept his gaze on my drawing.
“I was at my mom’s and out of routine, and then last night, I stayed up and didn’t sleep well, or at all, and… ”
Something about the tension surrounding him let me know that if he were to say something more, he would say it softly.
“Are you okay?” I kept my voice quiet and took a step toward him, close enough to smell that citrusy scent that always radiated off him.
He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I think it’s only fair, since we’re office mates and all, that you know I have ADHD, and probably some other undiagnosed things.
” He shook his head, still studying the design.
“Anyway, on some days like today, I struggle to find my focus, and it irritates me. I get mad at my brain, and you weren’t supposed to be on the receiving end. I’m usually better at it.”
“Oh.” I studied the dark stubble on his strong jaw, which was longer than usual. I worked my way up to the deep frown always in place above his glasses before settling on his soft, and simultaneously intense brown eyes. “I had no idea.”
“No one knows.” His focus was still stuck on the alignment, or pretending to be. “Well, Anders does… It’s why I have my own office. I’m easily distracted.”
I groaned and covered my face. “Working across from me, of all people, must be a nightmare. I’m so sorry. I’ll ask them to move me.”
“No, they’ll just put someone else here.”
“I feel like anyone else would be better,” I sighed. “I’m like a walking, talking strobe light.”
He chuckled now, and it may be the first I’d heard it. It was a deep laugh that stayed in his chest. That lopsided smile made an appearance, too, as his shoulders seemed to unwind. “Not untrue. You are possibly the most distracting woman I’ve ever come across.”
My heart skipped a beat. Distracting in a good way? I wanted to ask, but managed to stop myself at the last second.
“In the industry,” he added, clearing his throat.
“Oh.”
My appearance? My personality? Did I talk too much?
He leaned down until he was almost eye level with the end of the long desk. He narrowed his eyes, still reviewing my design.
“I could tone it down while I’m sharing an office with you,” I said.