Chapter 20
Chase: Did you do something inappropriate to that voodoo doll you have of me? I just got a tingle.
Pepper: I don’t have a voodoo doll of you.
Chase: You threw it away? Aw, cute!
Pepper: Or it didn’t exist in the first place.
Chase: Does this mean we’re best friends now?
Pepper: No.
Chase: Oh.
CHASE
I stroll into the open door, spotting Evelyn at her desk with her whole face buried in one hand.
“Are you okay?”
She jumps slightly, lifting her head out of her hand and blinking at me.
For someone who is usually so meticulously put together, she looks a little frazzled today.
Something about the way her hair is shoved into a ponytail that’s anything but slick, and makeup that is normally seamless looks a little smudged in places.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just…” She trails off and huffs, turning her desktop monitor toward me. “Well, look for yourself.”
“What is that?” I move closer to the screen and lean over to get a better look. It’s a headshot of a young woman, but it’s so heavily edited with beauty filters that you can barely tell she’s human. It also looks like she’s got thick, spidery super-imposed eyelashes.
“That,” Evelyn quips. “Is an image our new starter in marketing thought would be acceptable for their building ID pass.”
I roll my lips into a smile, trying not to laugh. “Erm, I’m not sure security would be able to identify her from that, unless she does in fact have blurred edges in real life.”
“Quite,” Evelyn agrees, turning the monitor back to her. “And I’m also sifting through applicants for our vacancy in finance, and someone has spelled consequences, K-O-N-S-I-K-W-E-N-S-I-S.”
Yeesh, that’s rough. The urge to laugh gets stronger, not only because that’s ridiculous, but because she just looks so exasperated. “Oh…so when are they coming in to interview?”
“Very funny,” she shoots my way with a cool glare, before hanging her head. “Ugh, I’m just having a day where my faith in humankind is waning!”
“So, I guess this is a bad time to ask if you can hold down the fort for a few days?” I begin sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head.
“Why, where are you going?” She begins to tap away at her keyboard with manicured nails.
“My place in the Hamptons.”
“Ugh, take me with you!” Her shoulders slump, her demeanor retreating into someone uncharacteristically whiney.
This time, I do laugh. I can’t help it. “You know I would, but one of us needs to be here.”
She scrunches her nose and resumes typing harder than before, grumbling quietly. “No one told me when I went after a big girl job that I would have to do big girl things.”
I grin, enjoying the more candid version of her I’m getting today. She ignores me as I walk around her desk and lean on the corner. “Okay, what is going on with you today?”
Evelyn is the ultra-professional. She makes the stress of running a business look easy, and she’s always cheerful. This is kind of the opposite of that.
“Honestly?” She ends her sentence with a pronounced slam onto the period key, her face creased into a frown as she angles her seat to face me.
“Do I ever want anything less?” I offer her my best cajoling smile.
“I’ve got enough hormones in my system to tranq a small bull and all I want to do is eat chocolate in my pajamas—but I have to be at stupid work because I’m stupid-ambitious—and I found my first grey hair this morning.”
“Yikes, where was it?” I give her a mock terrified look.
“On my head, you pig!” She picks up a cardboard file from the edge of her desk and slaps me with it.
“Okay, okay!” I laugh, holding my hands up in surrender. “Take a long lunch, and when you’re back, come and see me and we will smash out whatever you have to do today together before I leave. Okay?”
I stand from the desk, ignoring her soft scowl. If I learned anything from living with Emily for fifteen years, it’s not to question a hormonal woman. It’s a bit like encountering a tiger in the wild—make no sudden movements and whatever you do, do not make direct eye contact.
“Are you suggesting that I can’t do my job?”
I round the desk and roll my eyes when she can’t see my face. “No, I’m suggesting that you’re human and help is sometimes appreciated when we don’t feel our best.”
That seems to shut her up, but only for a few moments while I head for the door. “And what exactly is it you’re doing locked behind closed doors with that Quinn girl all the time?”
The corner of my brain that always seems to be mulling over that very woman converges onto my main track, steam engine chugging away and picking up speed.
I’m unable to forget what it felt like to be close to her, to feel her soft skin beneath my tongue, to taste her, to pull out those breathy little moaning noises I’m not sure she even realized she was making.
My dick twitches, and I slip my hand into my pocket to disguise the hard-on I know is just seconds away.
The one that has barely gone away since, no matter how many times I try to take care of it.
She’s an itch I can’t scratch, and I’m setting myself up for four days of personal torture—especially if she wears beachwear.
“I’ve told you, I’ll tell you when the time is right. I need you to focus on the operations,” I throw over my shoulder, not pausing as I reach the threshold and cross over it into the hallway.
I know this will frustrate her, and she’s made that apparent the two other times that she has asked, but I really do need her to focus.
We’re vulnerable right now, and taking our eyes off the ball even for a second could give one of our competitors the opportunity to surpass us.
If I know her, and I do, she would want to drop everything to help me find the person or people responsible for this.
What I don’t expect, however, are the words that come out of her mouth next. “I let Miles put his naked balls on your couch!”
“Mother fucker!”
***
“It’s cold!” Mr. Clay grouches from the back seat.
“Cold? It’s eighty-five degrees!” Pepper fumes, switching the AC up a notch.
His cat, which he insisted on bringing, yowls from the wicker basket at his feet, and I try to tune them all out, focusing on merging into a different lane on the Montauk Highway.
Driving three hours together now seems like more of a crazy idea than before, but somehow I didn’t think it was likely we would be able to coax our octogenarian ray of sunshine into a helicopter.
Terrence grumbles under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like, “report” and “building management.”
Pepper throws her hands up and scoffs before reaching down to unclip her belt. The soft repetitive ding that alerts me to a passenger freeballing around in the front seat is added into the fray as she spins, ending up on her knees with her finger pointed directly at Mr. Clay’s face.
“No you won’t! And do you want to know why?” I’m looking at the road while she speaks, but a pointed pause follows and I can just imagine her tilting one shaped brow.
“Why?” he shoots back hotly.
“That.” I risk a quick glance sideways and see her pointing at the wicker basket, which coincidentally lets another long yowling noise out. “Pets are not allowed in our building, so I could have you thrown out quicker than you can say tosh!”
I rest my elbow on the side of the rental SUV, and subtly cover my smile with my hand. Threatening an eighty-year-old man? Certifiable behavior, even if Mr. Clay truly is a grouch.
“So you’re going to behave yourself, and be nice to us for once in your life. Understood?”
Sunny starts humming along quietly with a melody I faintly recognize, completely oblivious to the brawl unfolding around her due to her earphones.
“Fine!” Mr. Clay concedes reluctantly.
“I HOPE YOU SETTLE DOWN, I HOPE YOU MARRY RICH!” Sunny belts out loudly with no warning, stunning Pepper into welcome silence. The seatbelt alarm still chimes softly in the background.
“Do you know what?” I say aloud, aware that no one is listening. “That is a fantastic idea.” I fiddle with the buttons on the center console, keeping one eye on the busy summertime traffic as I do.
“I HOPE YOU’RE SCARED OF ONLY ORDINARY SHIZ!” Sunny follows on, completely out of time with the music that now plays through the vehicle’s surround sound.
Pepper huffs and spins back around in her seat, grabbing for her seatbelt. I flick the volume dial up a good few notches, so that Noah Kahan vibrates the speakers.
“You know this one?” I yell over the music at Pepper, and catch sight of Mr. Clay subtly turning his hearing aids off at the switch in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah!” Sunny shouts back, clearly having noticed the music being turned on and unplugged her headphones.
Pepper makes a big show of rolling her eyes, sliding the seatbelt clasp back into place and settling back down into her seat while we build up to the chorus.
“Ready, Sunny?” I place both hands at the steering wheel at ten and two, preparing to use them to anchor myself in place.
“Heck yeah!”
“I HOPE YOU SETTLE DOWN, I HOPE YOU MARRY RICH,” Sunny and I bellow in unison, and if I wasn’t watching out for it, I might have missed the small smile Pepper tries to hide in her fist as she looks out of the passenger window.