Chapter Six #3
“Then come back when you are.” She grabbed a stack of papers and slapped them down on her desk.
But being rude, even to Joe, went against her nature.
She was battling tears and the growing need to explain her behavior, apologize for it, when he rose to his feet.
He tossed the pen carelessly onto her desk.
“Have it your way. If asking you to join me to look for a Christmas tree is such a terrible crime, then—”
“You’re going to buy a Christmas tree?”
“That’s what I just said.” He flung the words over his shoulder as he strode out the door.
In that moment, Cait felt as though the whole world was tumbling down around her shoulders. She felt like such a shrew. He’d come here wanting to include her in his Christmas preparations and she’d driven him away with a spiteful tongue and a haughty attitude.
Cait wasn’t a woman easily given to tears, but she struggled with them now.
Her lower lip started to quiver. She might have been eight years old all over again—this was like the day she’d found out she wasn’t invited to Betsy McDonald’s birthday party.
Only now it was Paul doing the excluding.
He and this important woman of his were going out to have the time of their lives while she stayed home in her lonely apartment, suffering from a serious case of self-pity.
Gathering up her things, Cait thrust the papers into her briefcase with uncharacteristic negligence. She put on her coat, buttoned it quickly and wrapped the scarf around her neck as though it were a hangman’s noose.
Joe was talking to his foreman, who’d been unobtrusively working around the office all day.
He hesitated when he saw her, halting the conversation.
Cait’s eyes briefly met his and although she tried to disguise how regretful she felt, she obviously did a poor job of it.
He took a step toward her, but she raised her chin a notch, too proud to admit her feelings.
She had to walk directly past Joe on her way to the elevator and forced herself to look anywhere but at him.
The stocky foreman clearly wanted to resume the discussion, but Joe ignored him and stared at Cait instead, with narrowed, assessing eyes.
She could feel his questioning concern as profoundly as if he’d touched her.
When she could bear it no longer, she turned to face him, her lower lip quivering uncontrollably.
“Cait,” he called out.
She raced for the elevator, fearing she’d burst into tears before she could make her grand exit.
She didn’t bother to respond, knowing that if she said anything she’d make a greater fool of herself than usual.
She wasn’t even sure what had prompted her to say the atrocious things to Joe that she had.
He wasn’t the one who’d upset her, yet she’d unfairly taken her frustrations out on him.
She should’ve known it would be impossible to make a clean getaway. She almost ran through the office, past the reception desk, toward the elevator.
“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Joe demanded, following on her heels.
“No.” She concentrated on the lighted numbers above the elevator, which moved with painstaking slowness. Three more floors and she could make her escape.
“What’s so insulting about inviting you to go Christmas-tree shopping?” he asked.
Close to weeping, she waved her free hand, hoping he’d understand that she was incapable of explaining just then. Her throat was clogged and it hurt to breathe, let alone talk. Her eyes filled with tears, and everything started to blur.
“Tell me,” he commanded a second time.
Cait gulped at the tightness in her throat. “Y-you wouldn’t understand.” Why, oh, why, wouldn’t that elevator hurry?
“Try me.”
It was either give in and explain, or stand there and argue. The first choice was easier; frankly, Cait didn’t have the energy to fight with him. Sighing deeply, she began, “It—it all started when I made up this folder of business articles for Paul...”
“I might’ve known Paul had something to do with this,” Joe muttered under his breath.
“I spent hours putting it together, adding little comments, and... and... I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t...”
“What happened? What did Paul do?”
Cait rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “If you’re going to interrupt me, then I can’t see any reason to explain.”
“Boss?” the foreman called out, sounding impatient.
Just then the elevator arrived and the doors opened, revealing half a dozen men and women. They stared out at Cait and Joe as he blocked the entrance, gripping her by the elbow.
“Joseph,” she hissed, “let me go!” Recognizing her advantage, she called out, “This man refuses to release my arm.” If she expected a knight in shining armor to leap to her rescue, Cait was to be sorely disappointed. It was as if no one had heard her.
“Don’t worry, folks, we’re married.” Joe charmed them with another of his lazy, lopsided grins.
“Boss?” the foreman pleaded again.
“Take the rest of the day off,” Joe shouted. “Tell the crew to go out and buy Christmas gifts for their wives.”
“You want me to do what ?” the foreman shouted back. Joe moved into the elevator with Cait.
“You heard me.”
“Let me make sure I understand you. You want the men to go Christmas shopping for their wives? I thought you just said we’re on a tight schedule?”
“That’s right,” Joe said loudly as the elevator doors closed.
Cait had never felt more conspicuous in her life. Every eye was focused on her and Joe, and it was all she could do to keep her head high.
When the tension became intolerable, Cait turned to face her fellow passengers. “We are not married,” she announced.
“Yes, we are,” Joe insisted. “She’s simply forgotten.”
“I did not forget our marriage and don’t you dare tell them that cock-and-bull story about amnesia.”
“But, darling—”
“Stop it right now, Joseph Rockwell! No one believes you. I’m sure these people can figure out that I’m the one who’s telling the truth.”
The elevator finally stopped on the ground floor, a fact for which Cait was deeply grateful. The doors glided open and two women stepped out first, but not before pausing to get a good appreciative look at Joe.
“Does she do this often?” one of the men asked, directing his question to Joe, his amusement obvious.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered, chuckling as he tucked his hand under Cait’s elbow and led her into the foyer. She tried to jerk her arm away, but he wouldn’t allow it. “You see, I married a forgetful bride.”