Chapter 17
seventeen
I nod.
Calder’s lips crash over mine, and I steal his breath.
My hands sneak up the back of his shirt, drawing him closer.
The metal of the car is cool against my back, his palm warm where it anchors me.
His mouth moves like he already knows what I’ll taste like.
Like this isn’t moving forward, but catching up.
I’m dizzy and delirious, wondering how I can pull his tall frame through the door of my car and stretch out with him in the back seat. I want him everywhere. His hands, his weight.
And then Calder pulls back. I press forward, trying to keep him there, and he grins. He presses his hands on my shoulders until I’m steady, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
He clears his throat and runs his thumb over his lower lip. “Goodnight.”
“Mmhmm.” It’s all I can manage. Again with the missed opportunities.
Calder
No rabbit fever?
Alecia
Free and clear. My soap method worked
Good morning
Good morning. Did I tell you how you show up in my phone?
I don’t think I want to know
Frederick Calder the Third
So much better than I was thinking
Are you a “third?”
Sadly not even a second
It makes sense when you think about it
Let us all hope that the genetic mental slide culminating in this naming disaster ends with me
I grin into the rim of my mug and send him a photo of the window light slanting across my desk, the way it turns my stack of paper swatches into something jewel-like. It’s random and pointless, but it’s pretty and I think he might like it.
I’m at my desk early for once, hair in a low ponytail since I didn’t have time to wash it after all the shenanigans last night, a soft sweater over a pair of loose jeans. I work my way through my inbox, but it’s slow going since I keep getting distracted.
Calder
You sleep okay?
Alecia
I can think of ways I could’ve slept better
Melatonin?
Is that what the kids call it these days?
It’s ridiculous how easy it is to talk to him. How the space between text bubbles feels like oxygen instead of a candle snuffer. Sam’s in a meeting this morning, and I’m dying to talk with her about last night. Lunch can’t come too soon.
I’m lining up dielines when a knock raps softly at my open door. I look up and see Garrett framed there in a crisp shirt. “Hey. Do you have a minute?”
My shoulders tense. Garrett also doesn’t know what happened last night, and by the smile on his face and the box he’s holding, I’m thinking it’s not going to be a welcome revelation.
He steps in and sets the small black box on my desk.
“What’s this?” My voice is breathy. I’m already starting to sweat.
“A thank-you,” he says. “For last night. You were great.”
I open the lid and it’s a pen. Sleek, titanium. The clip gleams, our brand name embossed on the side.
Wow. Not at all what I was expecting. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” It’s very . . . Garrett.
“Figured you’d appreciate it.” He tips his head toward my array of well-loved felt-tips. “Thought you could use something a bit nicer.”
Something inside me shuts like a trapdoor. Was this seriously what I’d wanted? To be noticed by him?
“Garrett,” I start, and then stop.
He misreads my pause as delighted awe, which is fair. Other women have surely trained him for this. He slips a hand in his pocket. “You saved me from a long night of shop talk. And you looked—” he waves a hand, searching for the right word “—fantastic.”
There it is again. A compliment that lands on the surface and refuses to sink. I’m sure I did look fine, but it was a wrap dress. I looked appropriate. Garrett doesn’t know the half of how fantastic I can show up.
I set the lid on the box down gently. “I should tell you something. And I want to say it before this gets weird.”
His smile hitchhikes toward concern. “Okay.”
“I did end up taking a lesson at Smash Point.”
His brows lift. “Oh. Nice. With who?”
I purse my lips. “With Calder.”
Something shifts in his expression. Small, but sharp. “You said—”
“I know.” I put a hand up. “I started with a different instructor, he got injured, and that time fit my schedule. When I asked about Calder, I was . . .” I shake my head. “I don’t know. Trying to get your attention.”
He’s quiet a beat too long. Then he nods, his smile cooling a few degrees. “Right.”
“This is really kind, but I can’t accept this.” I nudge the box back across the desk.
He stares at it. “It’s just a pen, Alecia.” When I don’t take it back, he exhales through his nose. Almost a laugh, but not at all amused. “Okay. So you’re interested in him or something?”
“I am.”
Garrett shakes his head. “You’ve met him, what, twice?”
My shirt from last night would insist we’d more than met. “We’ve talked a few times.” My phone buzzes on my desk with Calder’s name at the top.
Garrett slides the pen box off the wood. “Well. Give it a few more times, and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He turns to the door, but that comment sends me right back to the night before. His hand on my knee, his subtle head shake.
“Figure what out, Garrett?”
He turns back, a hint of surprise on his face. He considers his words, then shrugs. “That he’s not your type. And I think he’s into Sam, by the way.”
I blink. Sam? I ignore that for the moment. “You know my type?”
“We’ve worked together all year, so—”
“What exactly do you know about me?” I fold my arms over my chest. “Honestly, had you not walked in here just now, I would’ve said you didn’t know where my office was.”
Garrett gives me a look, but I’m not smiling. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Not kidding.” I round the desk and half sit on the edge. “It’s hilarious because I’ve had a thing for you for months, and the first time you noticed me was after I mentioned another guy.”
He scoffs. “That’s—no, that’s not—”
“Why did you say you’d drill with me? And then take me to Smash Point?”
“Because I had open play after.”
“Nothing to do with Calder showing up and seeing us together?”
His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “I was trying to be nice.”
“Have you ever asked about my life? My family? My hobbies?”
“I asked about pickleball.”
“I signed up for you! I didn’t even know how to play pickleball, but then I saw you were into it and there was that sign up, so I figured I could learn—”
“Wait, you’d never played before?”
I laugh. “No! That’s why I signed up for lessons at Smash Point.”
“Damn. Well, you fooled me.”
I slump, pressing my palms into the desk. “It’s pathetic, I know.”
He looks down at his hands, his face coloring. “Well. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
I groan. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve said something, but you’re always so on top of everything, and I’m .
. .” I blow out a breath. “You said it last night. I’m a little over the top.
I talk too much, and I laugh too loud, and I make jokes when I’m nervous.
But that’s also why I’m good at my job. Clients remember me.
I make them laugh, and we build honest-to-goodness relationships.
Mostly the women, I think I tend to piss of the execs. ”
He huffs a laugh.
“Anyway, last night, it didn’t feel like you had my back.
It felt like you wanted me to do things like you do, but I don’t think that’s how a company or a relationship thrives.
” I almost stop right there because I have little to no experience running either a company or a relationship, but it feels so right, I soldier on.
“We have to champion what makes each of us tick. Even when there’s a flip side.
Megan’s rose-colored glasses make gorgeous, hopeful designs.
Sam’s realism saves us money every day. I’d like to think my personality attracts and keeps the types of clients we want here, and I’m not saying I don’t have things to change—”
“No. I get it.” Garrett stops me, and the room stills around us. “I didn’t mean to make you feel—” He draws a breath and meets my eyes. “I was nervous. I thought I was protecting the account.”
“I know.”
He taps the pen box against his palm. “Okay. So . . . we’re good?”
I nod. “Yeah. We’re good.”
He turns again to the door, then hesitates, “I might not have paid attention when I should’ve, but for what it’s worth, I asked you last night because I think you’re fun. I did enjoy spending time with you.”
I smile. “Thanks. That’s nice.”
He nods once, then walks back to his office.