Chapter 17
Kennedy
“The next time, you’re all mine. All night.”
A shudder runs through my body as I remember Dae’s words.
It makes no damn sense that the remembrance of the possessive note in his voice makes my nipples hard. Or why I have to clench my thighs from wondering how it’ll be with him the next time. In his bed, as he so calmly mentioned.
I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night after he dropped me off at well after midnight. I’ve been a zombie in all of my work meetings today. Yet, it’s not due to lack of sleep. It’s because I can’t stop thinking about him.
“Earth to Kennedy.”
I startle to see Kelsey standing beside my desk, a confused expression on her face. “Hey,” I push out and sit up in my chair.
“Are you okay?”
“What? Yeah, fine. Why?”
“Because I’ve been standing here calling your name.”
I blink and shake my head. “No, you haven’t.”
She nods. “Yes, I have.”
I clear my throat and do a visual sweep of the entire open office. The hum of my fellow reporters on their phones or talking with colleagues buzzes around the room. The midday sun streams in from the huge window.
My friend and coworker, Kelsey, stands over me.
I saw none of it. How long had I been daydreaming about that man? Anger suddenly wells up inside of me.
I don’t get distracted from my job.
Not ever.
“I was just thinking about this investigation,” I lie.
“How’s it going? The last time you mentioned it you were stuck for answers. Made any headway?”
I nod and give her a brief summary of my progress. “I tracked down a former employee of one of Blackmon’s chain restaurants. She quit right after Erika Dalton’s death. It might be a long shot, but I’m going to ask her a few questions.”
Kelsey takes a sip of her coffee. “Her no longer working for Blackmon’s restaurant might make her more willing to tell you something.” Kelsey shrugs. “If she knows anything.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” I reply.
Kelsey smiles with pride. “I bet you’ll find what you’re searching for.”
“Damn straight I will.”
We clap five.
“Are you heading out now?”
“I’m waiting until late afternoon.”
Kels nods.
I ask her how things are going in the sports division, but the office’s receptionist interrupts us.
“Kennedy, you have a lunch delivery.” She steps to the side to reveal a delivery guy from a local Thai restaurant. He hands me a full, heavy bag. I nearly drop the damn thing.
“I didn’t order anything,” I tell him.
He smiles. “Mr. Kim says to eat well.”
My eyes bulge. Dae sent me lunch?
I don’t even need to think about the answer. Of course he did. The receptionist gives me a little smile before she and the delivery guy leave. I turn to face Kelsey, now staring at me with an expectant look.
“What?”
“Is this the guy who sent you flowers a few weeks ago?”
I push out a breath. “Yes.”
“Now he’s sending you lunch?”
I don’t respond because the answer is obvious. I regret telling Dae I skipped lunch because of a packed workday. And yes, it’s nearing two o’clock, and I haven’t eaten yet because of multiple meetings and other work duties.
My stomach growls as soon as I get a whiff of the food.
“What’s in the bag?” Kelsey asks.
I lift a brow at her.
She shrugs. “That’s the real test. Anyone can send food. What’s important is whether or not he ordered a well-balanced meal. Complete with the food you like.”
She looks at the bag on my desk now. “From the looks of it, he ordered enough to serve an army.”
She isn’t lying.
It turns out Dae ordered spring rolls, shrimp salad, pad thai, and soup. Of course, all of it was accompanied by enough rice to, yes, feed an entire army.
“He wanted to make sure you didn’t starve.” Kelsey laughs.
“Did you eat lunch?” I ask.
When she shakes her head, I tell her to pull up a chair. We end up sharing and having lunch together while Kels tells me about the upcoming opening she’s hoping to secure. I promise to help her practice her broadcasting skills if she needs to.
“That would be awesome,” she agrees. “Oh, are you coming to Garrett’s this Friday?”
I make a face.
“Oh, come on,” she half whines. “You never come to our after-work get-togethers. Every Friday I invite you, and you never show up.” She’s pleading now.
“I know you don’t like to go out that much, but it’s fun.”
It’s true. I rarely go to those work happy hours. I don’t love hanging out in bars or nightclubs. It’s why I’ve rarely been to the Black Opal.
Of course, thinking about the Black Opal brings to mind Dae. As I chew the food he sent, that irritation I felt earlier bristles down my spine. I was like putty in his hands the night before. If he pressed just a little harder, I likely would’ve cracked and agreed to stay with him the entire night.
It’s bad enough that I already agreed to stay with him overnight on our next date. This thing, whatever it is, is moving too quickly. It’s making my head spin. The whole purpose of me approaching Dae was to get information for this investigation, not to date him.
Not to fall for him.
No.
I’m not falling for him.
Yes, he’s hot as fuck. And the sex is amazing. But I’m not ready for whatever I can see he wants when I look into his eyes.
I shake my head.
“Shouldn’t you thank your mystery man for sending lunch?” Kelsey asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Yes,” I agree. I grab my phone off my desk and start to call but think better of it. I opt to send him a text. I know it’s more impersonal, but I need to put some space between Dae and me.
Me: Thank you for lunch. It was delicious. My coworker and I enjoyed it.
I don’t bother confessing that Thai food is another one of my favorites, nor do I tell him that if given the choice, I could live on spring rolls and pad thai.
How does he know all of my favorites?
The question comes to me. Why all of a sudden is it just coming to me? I don’t know, but once asked, I can’t help but grow more confused. The man seems to know so much more about me than I know about him.
From my favorite color and type of food I prefer to my ideal date.
Kelsey mentions this Friday’s happy hour again, still trying to convince me to go.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text message from Dae.
Dae: What coworker?
I narrow my eyes.
It’s impossible to discern tone, or for that matter intent, behind the words typed into a text message. However, I can sense the jealousy. A vision of Dae with his eyebrows pinched, glaring at his phone, awaiting my response, pops into my mind.
Me: A friend. I have to go. Thank you again.
He responds within seconds.
Dae: Does this friend have a name?
I narrow my eyes but don’t respond.
Dae: How about you tell me about all of your work friends on our next date. This Friday.
He doesn’t use question marks. As if he assumes I’ll agree automatically to whatever he says.
Without thinking, I type out:
Me: Can’t. I have a work meeting this Friday evening. Maybe next time.
I ignore the wave of tension that rolls through my belly as I put my phone on silent and place it on my desk facedown.
“I think I’ll go to this week’s happy hour,” I tell Kels.
Her eyebrows raise. “Awesome. It’ll be fun,” she says as she bumps my shoulder and stands. “I have to go. Thanks for lunch. Oh,” she stops and smirks, “more like thanks to your mystery man for lunch. I hope you thanked him for me.”
I wave her off. I start to tell her that he’s not a big deal, but the words stick in my throat. They sound eerily like a lie to my own mouth.
I shake that feeling off.
“I did,” I mumble to Kels before she walks away.
I see my phone light up, even though it’s face down. I ignore it. I already know who the message is from. I’m not meeting him this Friday. I need some space and time to sort out my feelings.
Besides, work is my priority at the moment. It always has been, and for the foreseeable future, it will be.