Chapter 17
CHARLIE
“Hello, Charlie,” Celine says as she waltzes into the break room behind me.
I was spacing out and letting my mind spiral in the peaceful empty room.
My thoughts are circling around the attack on Friday and everything Declan just told me.
It can’t be real, but somehow it was. Celine jolts me back to the here and now.
“My, aren’t you the caffeine fiend? Another coffee? ” she enquires.
“This is for the executive finance meeting,” I explain.
Oliver and Finn are meeting to review the proposed budgets in twenty minutes. Which means I need to have Oliver’s mushroom coffee and Finn’s decaf brew ready and in the conference room soon.
My conversation with Declan lasted longer than expected.
He patiently answered all my questions. Patience and Declan were two words I never thought could co-exist in the same breath.
But then again, I also never thought I would dream of his hands on me.
Of him holding me close. Protecting me. Touching me.
My impression of Declan is shifting, the ground unsteady beneath my feet. His fierce loyalty and protectiveness put me on the defense. Being on the other side of his protection, I can’t help but rethink every interaction we’ve had.
“Congratulations on the King Cool video,” I tell Celine.
Raj and his team posted their recap of the Kalispell race over the weekend.
It was number two on trending for all of YouTube within hours.
Apparently, our registration site is near crashing from all the people racing to sign up for one of our events. It was a big win for Celine and FIRE.
“Merci,” Celine responds with a demure look away as she grabs an energy drink from the refrigerator.
This brand sponsors our entire global race series and they stock the fridge weekly.
While most of the employees here live, eat, and breathe endurance sports, they also embrace quick energy hits and caffeine.
I take this interaction with Celine as a win, as I watch her pour her energy drink into a glass and then mix in a vitamin C booster pack.
As she stirs the pink powder into the highlighter-yellow fluid, she addresses me again, her French accent playing with the vowels.
“You know, Charlie, with so much to learn here at FIRE, I wanted to make sure someone reminded you of several key company policies.”
I turn to her, confused. “Which policies?”
“Well, the dress code is fairly relaxed, but, of course, if you couldn’t pass a fingertips inspection in grade school, best not to wear it here,” she says as she eyes my outfit.
This T-shirt jersey dress hits me mid-thigh.
And my thighs are kind of massive. Which is a point of pride for me.
These pistons used to propel me to win after win after win.
I keep them in shape now with yoga, Pilates, and long walks.
I’m not ashamed of them, but I’m not flaunting them in the office either.
As for the test she is referring to, my fingertips are at least two inches from my hem.
“OK, thanks,” I mutter as I turn my attention to the coffees for Oliver and Finn.
“And there is the no-fraternization policy as well,” Celine adds.
I bristle at this. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” I tell her, my tone making it clear that her “friendly reminders” are anything but.
I highly doubt that anyone in this office would want to spend their time dating me.
I haven’t run a mile in years. My body let me down so completely, so how could I expect it to be good enough for any of the fit people working for FIRE?
“Well, I wouldn’t want to see you get in trouble,” Celine adds, taking her drink with her. With who? is all I can think. Then her greeting replays in my mind. Another coffee? Did Celine spot me walking to Caffeine Corner with Declan? Is that who she thinks I’m breaking the rules with?
I have whiplash from the sharp turn in that conversation. But I don’t have time to focus on it. I carefully walk Oliver’s and Finn’s drinks to the conference room. Then I erase the whiteboard, check that the markers and pens in there all work, and head back to my desk.
Oliver passes me on the way to his meeting.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks, his voice laced with concern and – I tell myself to ignore it – pity.
Yes, my initial plan was to get a low-stress job, but at heart I wanted two things: new opportunities in sports and to shed the persona of the girl who had to quit when her body stopped working.
No one could see a reason for me to quit racing, to step down from the World Games team.
No limp. No surgical scars. No mobility devices.
But my body wasn’t working as designed anymore.
Stress – physical stress – was causing my immune system to attack as if my own muscles were an infection.
But people couldn’t see that, so they assumed I was mentally weak, too afraid.
I don’t need my boss to start viewing me that way because of what happened on Friday.
“I’m good,” I tell my uncle, who patiently followed my medical saga with my mom and dad.
“Everything is all set for your meeting with Finn.” I hesitate to relay my next thought but muster my long-dormant courage.
“I had a productive conversation with Declan this morning about my helping with strategic operations.”
I have an opportunity staring me in the face to do something meaningful and brave. I might as well take it and see where it leads.
“That is excellent news,” he says just as Declan exits his office. “I’m looking forward to an update for this weekend’s mission now that Charlie is on board,” Oliver tells Declan.
Declan appears confused, as he should be. I told him I needed to think about it more before committing to the spy side of things. But I guess my mind is made up now. “Yes, sir,” is all he says before Oliver walks away.
“Charlie, my office,” Declan orders.
If helping the world means working with Declan, who, until I was shot at, treated me like gum on the heel of his shoe, then so be it.
At least his surly demeanor is helping me to remember that in spite of his good looks he is not for me.
I am shoving this work crush into a file titled “don’t go there. ”
“Here is a dossier on our mission this weekend,” he says before giving me a once-over. “You’re going to need to dress accordingly.” Cool, another dress code to manage.