Chapter 7
SEVEN
I shouldered my door open, juggling two bottles of wine as I shoved in the case waiting on my doorstep with my foot.
I’d forgotten about April’s promised wine delivery, but I didn’t think I’d have trouble finishing them all.
Then I would attach myself to the nearest rehab clinic to recover from both the booze and my new boss.
My purse slid down my arm and thudded to the floor. I flung my emergency pair of ballet flats into my living room—my stupid heels had been beyond repair—then headed straight for the cabinet for my wine cup. Obviously, glasses were not a good idea today.
“Not even gonna feel guilty.” I grabbed some ice and it clunked against the thermal sides of my sparkly purple cup. I kicked the box of wine closer to my fridge before wrestling it open. I loaded two bottles to chill and cracked open the one I’d bought on my way home.
“I can’t believe him,” I muttered. It was a miracle I wasn’t shouting.
The day had been chaos from start to finish. Dust coated me from my braids to the tops of my feet, courtesy of the boxes of files I’d attacked post-lunch.
Screw his NDA. He hadn’t asked me to sign it yet, and I certainly hadn’t reminded him. He was lucky I hadn’t quit on the spot at the restaurant.
I’d stormed out of the restaurant on my wobbly heels, hopped an Uber back to the office, and proceeded to lock myself in the file room. Cataloging 1992 hadn’t exactly been in my packet—dude, seriously, a packet—of duties, but I’d needed something to take my mind off the shitshow that was lunch.
How was I supposed to look Isaac Shaw in the face after knowing he’d been literally cheating on his wife across from us?
With his assistant.
I’d doubted Preston could clench his ass any tighter, but he’d proved me wrong after discovering his father’s indiscretion. That was an extra slap with all the energy humming between us.
Ugh. Now we were an us. I didn’t want to be the united front with Preston against the senior Shaw, but PMS’s eyes had been so…
Nope. Not going to think about that right now.
I sloshed wine in my cup and took a long swig before refilling and putting everything away.
Before I did anything else, I needed to rid myself of this day. A total cleansing, spiritual and actual.
I took my wine into the shower with me and rinsed off the dust. It was even in my hair. I hated washing my hair more than twice a week, let alone twice a day. I tucked a towel around me and grabbed one for my crazy mop then sighed.
My dress and jewelry stared at me from where I’d left them on the floor as I stepped out of the stall. It was tempting to leave it all there, but my desire to keep my small space tidy won out over my mini-tantrum.
Gently, I detangled the chains of my rainbow fluorite, even though it had failed me spectacularly today. Not that it was its fault. Actually, I wondered how much worse the day would have been without it.
I padded across my apartment to my altar and set it onto the jewelry tree in the window for a little sunshine recharging. I made a pitstop in the kitchen to refill my wine again—the tumbler was small, dammit—and ate three pieces of cheese. That was totally enough for dinner.
Sure.
When I was dry enough, I put on yoga pants and one of my loosest shirts. I quickly braided my hair as I paced up and down the main living space.
The shower should have washed off my mood. This was my sacred space. It usually soothed me immediately and not just because of the specific network of crystals and diffusers I’d created with a bonus bit of sage work. I usually made sure to kick this kind of energy off me before I entered.
Now the vibe in my sanctuary was all off because my nerves were a jangling mess of lust, anger, and something else. The lust part was very annoying.
Usually in this situation—not that I’d ever been quite in this situation before—I’d just bang it out with the dude. Sometimes an energy exchange was all it was.
With PMS, it was a damn fireball and I wasn’t looking to get burned, thank you very much.
I grabbed my yoga mat and sat down in the pale stripe of sun at the center of my apartment. I needed to meditate.
Desperately.
I drew in a long, slow breath and let it out. Another one as I visualized myself sinking into my mat, connecting with the ground as each of my chakras opened like a flower. I filled myself with calm, expelling the anger.
My phone rang.
I opened one eye. “Seriously?”
I lifted my shoulders and sat up straight, closing my eyes once more. “Just ignore it. Orange flower, Ryan.” Another deep breath.
Luna’s text tone went off.
She could wait. She’d understand.
Another message.
I dropped onto my back with a groan then rolled to my knees. I didn’t even have the strength to stand up. “Pathetic.”
Another text came through as I crawled across the room to my purse by the door. This time, it was PMS.
“Ignore.” I stabbed the screen. I was tempted to turn the whole damn thing off, but it rang as I stared at it. Luna’s sweet face and blond curls filled the screen.
“Hello?”
“What the hell, girl? Aren’t we meeting tonight?”
I’d totally spaced out about recording tonight. Crap. “I’m sorry, Lu. I got home from work later than I thought I would.”
“Oh, right.” Her voice went sly. “Working for sexy texter guy. Is April’s boss hot? I can’t believe we’ve never bugged her at work and met this guy.”
“His texts weren’t hot.”
A little unprofessional maybe, but not that hot.
Okay, maybe a tiny bit.
“Hmm. So, is he hot?”
I staggered to my feet and rescued my cup for one more refill. “If you think a repressed suited-up dude in need of a surgical scale removal of the stick up his ass is cute, sure.”
“Hmm.”
“Stop with the hmm. There is no hmm.”
“Is he tall, dark, and yummy?”
“He’s tall.”
“Well, that’s already giving him some points. Can you stare him in the eye or do you have to look up?”
I gnawed on the corner of my bottom lip. “Look up.”
“With heels?”
“Yes, with heels.”
“What did you wear?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I want to know if you went all witchy tarot girl on him or played nice.”
Curling up on the couch, I pulled a pillow onto my lap and rested my chin on top. “I started off very professional. He would have had absolutely no idea I was wearing my chakra chains down my back if it hadn’t been for that stupid bike chick and the donuts.”
“Okay, back it up. Donuts?”
“Yes. I was running late—”
“Shocker.”
“Shut up. Do you want to hear this or not?”
“I’m sorry. Go on.”
“I went to The Honey Pot.”
“Oh, you really must have been late. Or you were trying to impress him…”
“Can I continue?”
Luna cleared her throat, which suspiciously sounded like a laugh. “Oh, yes, please.”
I hugged the pillow tighter as I slumped on the couch. “You know those movies where you see the girl flipping a box of pastries in the air, and everything goes splat?”
Luna snorted. “Only on Hallmark movies.”
“Yeah, well, reality is much squishier and messier. Though there was a hot guy to help me up.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Yeah, but he’s already into Dre. Could practically scent the pheromones in the air. He was ready to try out her honey pot.”
“Is that so?” Luna hummed in appreciation. “Dre could use it.”
“Truth. The whole thing was rather adorable. Something was different about him.”
“Bad vibes?”
“No, just…different. Anyway, this maniac bike messenger tried to take me out.”
“Those are still a thing?”
“Evidently.” I punched the pillow and tried to get comfortable. “I appreciate your concern.”
Her musical laugh came across the airwaves as I put her on speaker. “I’m sorry. You okay?”
“Just my pride and maybe my hip.” I rubbed at it absently. It was a little sore. “Luckily, there’s plenty of padding there.”
“Girl, we all wish we were as lush and beautiful as you are.”
“Don’t try to butter me up now.” I picked at the fringe on the pillow. “So my respectable business wear was toast.”
“Did you say you were wearing your body chain thing? Dude, that is super hot.”
“It’s to balance—”
“Whatever. You know that’s hot as fuck. You sure you didn’t wear that to toy with him?”
I sat up. “It was armor, dammit. I had to go into that stuffy law office. Besides, it was under my sweater. He would never have known it was there.”
“Except that it drapes in the front too. It’s literally a network of chains that go around your boobs.”
“Okay, so it was a little sexy, but it was mostly hidden. And I wore it for myself, not him.”
“Hmm.”
I curled my arms around my middle. “Stop hmming me.”
“You’re awfully pouty.” I heard shuffling happening.
“No, I’m not. What are you doing?”
“Pulling cards.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I popped up from the couch and snatched my AirPods from the little charging nook on my end table. I tucked them in my ears so I could pace as I talked.
“Obviously, we need to do a little card therapy.”
“No, we really don’t.”
“Then I definitely do since you’re so wound up.”
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t think I need it.”
“Whenever you think you don’t, you really do.”
I nibbled on the corner of my thumbnail. “We have podcast stuff.”
“It can wait.” Luna was a bridge shuffler so all I could hear was the snap and riffle of cards as she did her usual routine. I could see her in my head. Sitting cross-legged on her massive pink floor pillow, her short table in front of her.
The snap-snap-snap of cards came through my earbuds as she laid them out.
“What spread are you doing?”
“A love spread.”
The way she emphasized love in a singsong voice made my thighs clench. “We are not involved that way.”
“Not yet.”
Damn these super good AirPods. I could hear every card she set down. How big was the stupid spread? “Not ever. He’s my boss.”
“Yeah, for a week.”
“And then I’ll never see him again.”
“Best time to get that boom-chica-wow-wow out of your system.”
“No one says that.”
“Doesn’t matter, you get the reason behind it. Besides, this spread says woowee on fire, girl.”