Chapter Fifteen
What just happened?
Will
I tape the final blue heart to Ruby’s door, then step back to admire my work.
“It looks good,” I call into her office. “Simple. Sleek. Other synonyms that imply there isn’t much going on but in a cool way.”
She grunts from her desk, typing away as she focuses on the feedback she’s getting from her single earbud. Honestly, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this competition.
“That’s because I don’t care about this competition,” she says.
“Oh, did I say that out loud?” I ask, knowing full well I did. How am I supposed to pester her if I am not blurting out my every annoying thought? I can’t, that’s how. And if I can’t pester her, I can’t remind her of why she loves me – my indisputable charm.
“I would say it’s very disputable,” she says. “For instance, I’m disputing it. Right now.”
I chuckle.
She’s so silly sometimes.
“Do you want to come feel?” I ask. “Elodie found lots of textures for you.”
And by lots I mean lots . The door is totally monochrome, but bumps, ridges, fringe, sequins, and fuzz cover every inch. They make a subtle, on-theme display of flowers, hearts, and cupid’s bows. It’s quite the marvel.
“One sec,” Ruby responds. She tip-taps at her keys for several minutes past one second before she’s ready, taking out her earbud as she swivels her chair to the side. She stands, elegant and graceful, and makes her way around her desk to the door sans cane.
Man, she’s beautiful.
“You’re harassing me in the workplace again,” she says.
“I didn’t say anything that time!”
“I can feel you looking at me.” A frown pulls her bottom lip down, demanding my attention. Attention I am not yet at liberty to give to it, the little tease.
“You’re very hard not to look at,” I answer earnestly.
Her frown deepens. It’s enough to bring a man to his knees.
“Oh, get up,” she groans as she reaches the door – and me.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I’m more than happy to stay right here at your feet. Forever, even.”
Her eyes roll.
“Show me the door,” she orders.
I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”
She reaches her hand out, letting it coast across the different textures. She lingers on a soft, furry heart before quickly passing over a rougher, sequin-covered one. A fringed portion of the door gets a hum of approval, while a sparkle-infested bit earns a frown.
“They’re blue,” I say. “But the different things you’re feeling give it a lot of dimension. Elodie did a good job picking materials.”
Ruby nods, fingers tangling in the fringe. I wonder what it would feel like to have them wound in my hair, just like that.
Maybe I should grow it out more. The few inches I have wouldn’t be much to hold on to…
“Elodie always does a good job,” Ruby says, eliciting a blink from me.
I rip my eyes off of her entangled fingers. Were we talking about Elodie?
“She’s beautiful, wonderful, amazing, and perfect. She wouldn’t know how to do a bad job if she tried.”
Okay. I guess we’re talking about Elodie.
“El is great,” I agree.
“El is perfect,” Ruby counters.
My brows rise, but I hum an agreement. Sol is perfect, so it stands to reason that Elodie probably is too. They’ve got the same gene pool. That gene pool being utter ethereal flawlessness.
“What’s your door look like?” Ruby asks.
I beam. She’s interested in my art! This is an encouraging step toward our happily ever after! First, she wants to run her hands over my door. Then she wants to run her hands through my hair, over my shoulders, across my chest – maybe even my back.
It’s a gateway door to wedded bliss!
I hold back a dreamy sigh.
“His door looks like Cupid got into a fight with a bear. And lost,” Clarise calls from her desk, where she’s studiously taping blue, pink, and green conversation hearts. “It’s a health and safety hazard.” Her nose scrunches.
I glare at her, then sniff.
“My door,” I start, terse. “Is an explosion of Valentine cheer and holiday goodness.”
She snorts, muttering under her breath, “If you say so, boss.”
“I do,” I assert, eyes narrowing. I don’t remember my assistant being quite so insubordinate.
“Show me the explosion, then,” Ruby prompts, stepping toward my office door.
I scurry ahead of her, pushing the door all the way open so that the light from the window can bounce off the sequins and sparkles, giving Ruby a chance to see the glimmering beauty.
“It’s mostly pink,” I explain. “There’s one giant heart in the middle, and lots of little hearts all around. Plus some arrows sticking out of and into it. Be careful, they’re not sharp, but they could hurt you if you go in too confident.”
Her hand hesitates mere inches from a dowel rod I painted, glued feathers to, then cut to make it look like one of Cupid’s arrows flying into my door. I reach out, careful to pause before our hands actually touch, so as not to spook her, then slowly guide her fingers to the arrow.
“When did you have time to do this?” she asks, eyes roving the shimmery glitter of the central heart.
“I came in early,” I answer, then watch as a cute little line appears between her brows. “I had to break to pick you up, then I finished it up when we got back before I did yours.”
The line deepens.
“You came here, worked on this, then left to get me?” she asks.
Um.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Will, I could’ve called a car, or had Roman drop me off, or taken a bus, or probably a hundred other options that didn’t require you to go out of your way back into the snow just because of me.”
“Not because of you,” I reply, shaking my head. “ For you.”
She frowns. “That’s not the difference you think it is.”
“I disagree.”
Her frown deepens. “Didn’t I yell at you this morning? For being late?”
“Again, I’m very sorry for that,” I say. “I got caught in a one-more-sequin doom spiral.” Honestly, why would I ever believe it would be “just one more” anything? I’m a grown man. A genius in my field, which includes counting. It is never just one more.
Silly, silly, silly of me. She had a right to be mad.
She scowls now, a replica of the expression she met me at her door with this morning.
“Seriously, Rubble. Very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
She runs her fingers over a wayward arrow back, nose wrinkling before her hand drops.
“I’m going back to work,” she grumps. “I’ll see you for the ride home.”
My brows furrow. “You heard my apology?”
Her hair bounces with her nod, and she replies a terse, “Forget it.” before making her way swiftly across the hall to her office, snapping her door shut behind her.
I blink at it, then turn to Clarise and Charlie. “That was weird, right?”
“Um…” Charlie mutters, glancing worriedly at his boss’ door.
“Totally,” Clarise confirms, nodding sagely. “I don’t think she liked your apology.”
I hum. She usually doesn’t.
“Maybe next time,” I shrug, deciding to give her a little space. A good five hours should be enough to cool her anger with me, surely.
And if it’s not?
Well, I’ll just work my undeniable charm.
Problem solved!