Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
HEATH
Kissing Stella was not the smartest decision I’d ever made. I mean... it was a great fucking move because her lips were the sweetest I’d ever tasted.
But this was Stella.
I’d spent the weekend bouncing from elation to regret and still hadn’t decided what to do about it. Pretend it hadn’t happened? Tell her it was a mistake? Ask her on a date?
Call in sick so I didn’t have to face her today?
“Goddamn it.” I rubbed a hand over my jaw, staring at the office building through the windshield of my truck.
Stella was inside already. Her car was parked five down from mine. She’d probably gotten here early, hoping to avoid an awkward encounter in the break room. Or maybe she was packing her things.
Dad was going to kick my ass if I chased away Stella. He’d bragged daily about stealing her from her former company. How she was going to be our new superstar. He wasn’t wrong.
And I’d placed her in an uncomfortable situation .
Somehow, I had to make it right. I owed her an apology except I wasn’t sorry. Not even a little.
Another truck eased into the space beside mine, and I glanced over to see my brother park and climb out. Time was up. There’d be no more stalling. So I joined him on the snow-dusted sidewalk. “Morning.”
“Morning. How was your weekend?”
“Uneventful.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie since I’d kissed Stella on Friday. My Saturday and Sunday had been spent mostly staring at my living room wall, agonizing over a woman. Questioning the kiss. Fretting about how much I wanted to do it again. “You?”
“I spent most of it here, unburying. I don’t want to work all week, especially once Maddox gets here tomorrow.”
“I’m hoping to take some vacation too. We should see if he can take a day to ski. It’s been a while since the three of us did anything together.” Years, actually.
Maddox had moved to California for college and had ended up staying after he’d started his mega-successful streaming network. His company Madcast—and a bitch of an ex-wife—had kept him close to LA in recent years. But he was coming home for the holidays with his daughter, and the last time we’d talked, he’d announced that he was moving home. Finally.
He’d gotten sole custody of his daughter, Violet, after his divorce, and Maddox wanted to raise her closer to family, in the same town where we’d grown up. He wasn’t sure of his timeline yet, but it would be good to have him home.
“I could ski,” Tobias said, stomping his shoes on the mat inside the door. “Morning, Gretchen.”
“Good morning, boys.”
With Gretchen, we’d always been boys . We always would be boys considering she’d chased us around as toddlers. Gretchen was a staple of Holiday Homes, having worked here longer than any other staff member, except for Dad.
“Morning, Gretchen,” I said, keeping my eyes trained forward as I strode down the hallway. I didn’t let myself glance upstairs toward Stella’s office.
Tobias disappeared into his office and I closed my door.
I’d keep it closed today. I’d stay in my chair, bust out a lot of work so I didn’t have to work while Maddox was home. And in doing so, I’d stay on my floor while Stella worked on hers.
I cast my eyes to the ceiling after shrugging off my coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door.
Stella had gasped when I’d kissed her. But she hadn’t kissed me back. She’d stood there, frozen, either from shock or December’s cold temperatures. When I’d pulled away from her delicious mouth, her eyes had been wide and her cheeks flushed. Then before I could say anything, she gave me a tiny shove away, spun for her car and disappeared.
Why hadn’t she kissed me back?
That question had been a plague on my mind. It was what bothered me the most. She’d had a crush on me when we’d been younger, but maybe she’d grown out of it. Maybe I was too damn late.
I sat at my desk. I opened my computer. I stared at the ceiling.
“Stella.” I truly loved her name—not something I’d planned on admitting like I had Friday.
Where was her head at? Had she liked the kiss? Hated it?
“Hell.” There’d be no work today. Not until I cleared the air. So I blew out a long breath and marched to the second floor.
She was at her desk, one elbow propped on her desk and her chin in her hand. The other was unmoving on her mouse. She stared at the computer screen, unblinking. So lost in thought she hadn’t heard me walk down the hall.
“Knock, knock.”
She jumped at my voice, the mouse flying out of her hand and across her desk. “H-hi.”
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” She swallowed hard, stood and wiped her palms on her jeans. Her long blond hair was down today, the locks curled in loose waves. She was in a chunky sweater that dwarfed her slender form. “What’s up?”
I closed the door behind me, then walked to a chair. “May I?”
“Please.” She sat too, sitting so straight I was worried she might fall off the edge of her chair.
“About Friday.”
“We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I owe you an apology.” The words tasted bitter.
“Okay.” She bit her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth as her gaze dropped to her desk.
“I crossed a line. We work together, and I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage.”
She shook her head, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “I don’t.”
“It won’t happen again.” Even if I wanted to kiss her again with every cell in my being.
“Yeah, it’s, um... better to keep things professional.”
“Right.” Fucking professionalism. “Um.. . how was your weekend?”
Small talk? Really, Holiday? I hated small talk nearly as much as I hated talking about the weather.
“Good.” She shrugged. “Boring. You?”
“Same. ”
Silence settled, heavy and thick. She looked everywhere but at me. The wall. Her keyboard. A coffee mug with a rainbow as the handle.
My apology was out there. I’d done what I’d needed to do. So why was I still in this chair? “Sure is cold out today.”
Goddamn it .
“It is.” Stella’s gaze darted to mine, then flickered away. “Super cold.”
Leave. Stand up. Get the hell out of this room. “Are you going to the party?”
“I hadn’t planned on it. I was going to go to the Christmas Eve church service with my parents, but then Guy came over yesterday and begged me to be his date.”
“Ah.” I hadn’t spoken to Guy since Friday.
He’d called once on Saturday but I’d ignored him. Mostly because I was pissed that he’d embarrassed Stella. And partly because I wasn’t sure if I could face him, knowing that I’d crossed a line.
I loved my best friend, but he could be a bastard. What the fuck had he been thinking, saying that shit to Stell?
She was incredible, and yeah, she’d had a crush. Big deal. A lot of girls in high school had crushed on me.
I’d deal with Guy later. He’d be at my parents’ annual Holiday Christmas party on Saturday.
That gave me the week to figure this out.
“You’ve forgiven him for acting like an ass on Friday?” I asked.
“No. Sort of.” Stella lifted a shoulder. “He didn’t think it would bother me.”
That was bullshit. Guy had said it because he had no filter. Usually his direct declarations would earn a laugh, but this time, he’d gone too far.
“He’s pretty upset about his breakup with Mel,” she said .
“That doesn’t give him an excuse to be a prick.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t defend him, but he’s my brother. It’s almost Christmas, and I’m picking my battles. I don’t want to fight with him, and you know how stubborn he is.”
Yes, I did. If Guy didn’t see that what he’d done was wrong, he’d hold a grudge and throw a tantrum. It was... exhausting. I’d learned to pick my battles too.
“Do you think there will be a good turnout at the party since it’s on Christmas Eve?” Stella asked.
“According to Mom’s latest RSVP count, most people are coming.” Mom and Dad’s annual soiree was always a hit with their friends.
“Why is it on Christmas Eve?” Stella asked.
“The Baxter booked out the room for their normal weekend for a wedding. The bride booked it two years ago, but still, Mom was livid. She threatened to move the venue for the rest of time, so the hotel cut her a pretty sweet deal to have it on Christmas Eve.”
“I’m glad it worked out.”
“Me too.”
The silence returned, and I bit my tongue to kill the small talk. Then I forced myself out of the chair. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Have a good day.”
“You too.” I lifted a hand to wave, then left her office.
One step into the hallway and I missed the scent of her perfume. But I continued on, returning to my desk and willing Stella from my mind. But did I work? No. I sat in my chair and thought about the beauty on the second floor.
She wanted to keep this professional. Did that mean she regretted the kiss? Did that mean she hadn’t kissed me back because of her job? Or because she wasn’t attracted to me any longer?
Damn it, I wanted answers. Except this was not the place to discuss it. In the name of professionalism , I wouldn’t let myself go upstairs again.
My concentration was shot. Maybe I should just pack up my laptop and leave. I could work from home for the week. Or I could work from Mom and Dad’s place. Or... take vacation time. There was plenty of work to do, but Dad had always encouraged us to take a break when needed.
Today, a break seemed necessary.
“Vacation,” I declared and shut my laptop. I’d spend some time away from Stella. Get my head right.
Decision made, I packed what I’d need and grabbed my coat.
“Do you even know what the hell you’re doing?” A man’s voice carried down the hallway before I’d stepped out of my office.
I set my stuff aside and rushed out, thinking I was about to see Gretchen put someone in their place. But the question hadn’t been aimed at Gretchen. It had been snapped at Stella.
“Mr. Jensen, I apologize.” Stella’s voice stayed calm and collected. “I understand this is frustrating, but if you want zebrawood for the floors, we will have significant delays in finishing your project.”
“Just order it. Express ship it. I don’t care. I see no reason why it should take longer. You haven’t ordered the white oak yet, right? So just swap it out.”
I reached the lobby and caught Gretchen’s eye. She nodded to where Stella and Mr. Jensen stood on the opposite side of the space.
Stella had a coffee mug in her hand. Joe Jensen was still wearing his coat. My guess was that Stella had come down for a refill and Joe had caught her in the hall.
“Unfortunately, I can’t simply swap it out, Mr. Jensen,” Stella said. “Zebrawood is an exotic species and to get the quantity needed will take longer than white oak. The local yard keeps white oak stocked. They don’t have any zebrawood.”
“Are you sure? Have you asked them?” He leaned forward, bending to talk in her face.
That move right there pissed me right the fuck off. Yes, he was a client, but there was no reason for him to attempt to intimidate her.
Not that his attempt worked.
Stella stood taller and plastered on a fake smile. “No, you’re right. I haven’t asked them. But I’ll make a call right now. If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’ll get a change order and new project schedule to you by this afternoon.”
“Yes, that’s what I want.” He backed away, his lips pursed. Then Joe spotted me and walked right past Stella, nearly bumping his shoulder against hers. He was all smiles as he crossed the lobby, his hand extended. “Heath. How’s it going? Do you have a minute?”
“Hi, Joe. Happy holidays. And for you, sure.” I nodded toward the nearest conference room. “Have a seat. I’ll meet you in there.”
“Fantastic.” He unzipped his coat as he passed me by.
Joe was going to ask me to take on his project. I didn’t have to set foot in the conference room to know exactly what this conversation would entail. But Joe was about to be disappointed.
Stella’s shoulders fell as she turned and walked for the stairs, her gaze glued to the floor. She knew what Joe was about to ask me too.
An hour later, I escorted Joe from the conference room. He wasn’t entirely happy that I’d refused to take his build on myself, but after a lengthy discussion, he understood that if he wanted the project done right, he needed Stella.
“Thanks, Heath.”
“Sure.” I nodded, escorting him to the lobby. “See you at the party Saturday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He waved at Gretchen, then pushed out the door.
Gretchen watched him leave, tracking his steps until he was in his Cadillac, then she shook her head. “I’ve never liked Joe. Today just reinforced my opinion. The way he marched in here and practically jumped on Stella. He didn’t even tell her hello.”
“He’s . . . difficult.”
“Understatement,” Gretchen muttered.
My plan to leave and avoid Stella had been shattered, so I headed for the stairs.
She sat behind her desk, her fingers moving furiously over the keyboard as she glared at her monitor. The click, click, click was so loud that I didn’t bother knocking.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” Her eyes darted to mine, but her fingers never stopped. “Zebrawood will take an additional six months to arrive. It’s back-ordered and has been for months. For an order this size, and with the lumberyard’s specialty wood stocking fee, I hope Joe’s got his checkbook ready because this is going to cost him.”
I rounded the corner of her desk, propping up on the edge as her fingers continued their assault on the keys. “Hey.”
She typed a few more words, then paused, glancing up. “Did he ask for someone else to run his project?”
“Yes. ”
Her hands dropped to her lap, her chin to her chest. “I figured as much. The first assignment from your dad too.”
“I told him no.”
Her face whirled to mine. “You did?”
“He’s abrasive and arrogant.”
“Don’t forget condescending.”
“He’s all those things, Stell. But he’s also logical. He wants this job done and he realizes that to make that happen, he’s got to make certain decisions. You told him no , which is not something he’s heard yet with this project. But you stood up for yourself. He respects that. He told me the same just before he left.”
“Your dad is testing me with this one, isn’t he?”
I chuckled. “Yep.”
“Thank you for not pulling me off it. Joe and I might not end this as friends, but I’ll do a good job.”
“I know you will.”
“Just keep rolling with the kicks, right?”
“Um... what?” I replayed that sentence in my head. Roll with the kicks? “You mean roll with the punches. That’s the saying.”
“Maybe but it’s a dumb saying. If someone kicks me, guaranteed I’m dropping to the floor. And then if they keep trying to kick me, I’ll just roll away.”
I blinked. “Rolling with the punches is an expression from boxing. You roll with a punch to lessen the impact.”
“But I’m not a boxer. So rolling with the kicks makes more sense.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
I studied her beautiful face. “No.”
“Well . . .” She shrugged. “Disagree to agree.”
This woman. Somehow, her nonsense made sense .
As her hazel eyes locked with mine, I realized just how close we were. Almost as close as we’d been on Friday before I’d kissed her.
All I had to do was lean down. All she had to do was shift six inches.
Stella Marten was as tempting as a wrapped gift under the Christmas tree.
But she hadn’t kissed me back.
So I moved, standing from her desk and putting it between us. “I’m sorry. About Joe. And Friday.”
She nodded, her shoulders turning in on themselves. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t okay. Because all I could think about was doing it again. “I, um... I’d better get going.”
I had a vacation to start. A very necessary vacation. “Bye, Stell.”
With my feet aimed for the door, I was just about to the safety of the hallway when she called my name.
“Heath?”
I turned, putting a hand on the door’s frame. Maybe if I held on tight enough, it would keep me on this side of the room. “Yeah?”
“Why did you kiss me?”
I answered her question with one of my own. “Do you still have a crush on me?”
Because if it was over, if it was something she’d let go along with her adolescence, then I’d stop this. Somehow, I’d stop thinking about her.
“We work together.” Her answer was like a knife to the heart. “You’re Guy’s best friend.”
“Right.” I swallowed my disappointment. “We should keep this professional.”
“We should.” She nodded. “That’s a good—smart—idea. ”
It was a fucking horrible idea. But I’d respect her wishes. “I’ll see you at the party.”
“Oh, you’re not working this week?”
“Maddox is coming home. I’m taking a vacation.”
A Stella vacation.
And maybe by Saturday, I’d have forgotten the taste of her on my tongue.