Lila #2
He took his glasses off, always his tell, and gave me a kind smile. “I don’t hate Lovewell. I just resent being dragged back here. I have happy memories of this place, I’m glad I grew up here, but…” he paused as if searching for the right words.
“You’ve outgrown it.” I offered.
He nodded.
“I feel the same way. For so long I wanted out, and dreamed of going anywhere else. And when I had to come back it felt like failure. The gossip, the judgment, waking up every day to scrape together tips to try and get unstuck.”
“You’re not stuck.”
I shrugged, “I know that now. It took me a while to realize that being back in Lovewell is an opportunity. To make peace with my past and this town and who I’m becoming.”
“That’s a very positive perspective.”
“It’s all about how you frame it, Owen. Think about it.
You weren’t dragged back. You were given an opportunity to come back here and do something positive for your family.
A family you’ve grown apart from.” I gave him an expectant look.
Sometimes it frustrated me how obtuse he could be about his family.
As an only child with just my mom, I couldn’t imagine having all those siblings and not wanting to be close to them.
His lips quirked. “You’re something special, you know that?”
I could feel the blush creeping across my cheeks. “I’m not the one who donated a new roof and freezer to the food pantry.” He thought he could brush this off, but I wasn’t letting him. Beneath that grumpy, corporate exterior was a big squishy heart. And I was determined to make him admit it.
He held my gaze for a moment, those blue eyes shining. “You inspire me.” He said softly.
And I could feel my knees wobble and my stomach clench. This man had shown up here and was steamrolling every attempt I made to be practical and logical. I studied my hands as I tried to breathe through the complex tangle of emotions.
He looked away politely as I composed myself, cleaning his glasses and diving back into the spreadsheet he was creating.
I slipped my earbuds back in and tried to focus on work, but this information continued to swirl in my head. “You inspire me.” God, as if I didn’t already have an inappropriate crush on him.
Focus, Lila. You’re here to do a job.
But he was right there, looking all kinds of good. Sometimes, when he was puzzling through documents, he took his glasses off and rubbed the back of his neck. When he did, I swore I could feel the tension in his body.
I had just gotten control of my hormones and had started to make real headway when something truly awful happened.
Owen unbuttoned his shirt.
It was pretty hot in here. We’d had a couple of warm days, which wasn’t uncommon for late April, and the HVAC hadn’t caught up. Usually, the building was freezing, but tonight, it was boiling.
And now Owen was stripping.
I shuffled papers in an exaggerated manner, pretending to be absorbed in my work while fixated on him in my periphery. He took his time undoing every button, his large hands working deftly.
Sweet Jesus. He was wearing a white undershirt. I forced myself to focus on the papers in my hands. When I did, I blinked. Then I blinked again. Shit, they were upside down. Damn, I’m an idiot.
Despite my best efforts, after I subtly flipped the papers so they were right side up, I snuck another glance.
The shirt was tight, and the thin cotton hugged every muscle in his shoulders. And those were some muscles hiding under the designer dress shirts.
My internal temperature rose even more, and a bead of sweat dripped down my spine. Any attempt to work was officially off the table now. Just breathing while remaining standing was hard enough.
“You okay?” With a gentle nudge to my arm to get my attention, he reached for the neat row of folders in front of me where I’d organized all the recent invoices.
“Mm-hmm.” My face flamed. God, I was probably crimson by now. Could he read my thoughts? Had I been mumbling to myself? I did have my earbuds in, but I’d been so deep in my Owen fantasy that he’d probably noticed me staring like a sex-starved weirdo.
To be fair, I absolutely was. But he didn’t need to know that. I’d much prefer being the mysterious and alluring woman who had her shit together. Ha. Like that was even a remote possibility.
White T-shirt.
Shoulders.
Arms.
That long neck and the stubble-covered jaw. I wanted to lick every inch of him.
My thoughts had veered into full porno territory.
Get a hold of yourself, Lila. I’d slap myself out of my stupor if I thought I could get away with it.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. I was in my head. What can I help with?”
He lifted one brow and scrutinized me, like he was trying to read my mind.
My skin tingled under his regard, and there went my blood heating again. Goddamn, those blue eyes practically scorched me.
“I need you to check this asset report for me. I’ve got to get it to the lawyers tonight, since we’re headed to Portland on Friday for negotiations with the buyers.”
“Right,” I said, forcing a smile and patently ignoring the way my core ached. “Of course.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His concerned frown was adorable. “I could grab you a bottle of water. Do you want to sit down?”
Nodding like a bobblehead, I dragged myself over to a chair on the other side of the table. I dropped into it and turned up the volume on my playlist, attempting to lose myself in a sea of numbers.
After fixing a few inconsistencies and sending them off to the legal team, we celebrated with an assortment of gluten-free sugary cereal and tea I heated up in the microwave.
“I’ve figured out most of the acronyms and the shorthand on the written documents,” I said, sorting through our cereal options. “I’ve got a list on my computer for reference.”
He snatched the box of marshmallow cereal out of my hand.
“The chocolate bombs are better.” When I feigned a scowl, he grinned, looking so boyish.
“I said what I said.” He was still wearing the T-shirt.
His fancy dress shirt was carefully draped over the back of one of the metal folding chairs, daring me to pick it up and sniff it.
I shrugged. “I’m on team fruity sugar cereal. But I will admit the strawberry chocolate turtles were gross.”
“Who thought it was a good idea to make kids’ cereal out of chickpeas?”
I shuddered. “It’s a crime against nature.”
The smile he gave me was one of pure contentment. It was impossible not to take a moment to revel in it.
“What?” he said, his cheeks going a little pink.
“I like your smile. You wear this grumpy facade, so most of the time, you’re scowling.
But once in a while, you smile at me, and when you do, you look like a different person—” The moment the last word left my lips, I stiffened.
Dammit, I’d gone too far and been too honest. Yes, we were becoming friends, but he was my boss and my ex’s brother as well.
He pressed his lips together and ducked his head.
When he looked up again, he searched my face, like he was worried I wouldn’t understand his reasoning.
“It’s hard being here. This town, this building.
It makes me feel stuck. Logically, I know that’s not the case, but being here puts me on the defensive.
I’m sorry if I’ve been scowling at you.”
“Eh.” I shrugged, picking out a box of tried-and-true fruity cereal. “I’ll take authenticity over artifice any day of the week. Your grumpy scowls and resting boss face don’t bother me. Though I do enjoy the rare smile.”
He smirked. “Resting boss face?”
“Oh yeah.” I slid a finger under the tab of my cereal box, popping it open. “It’s like your facial muscles know how to project responsibility and confidence. When I see you, I think this guy knows what he’s doing.”
The laugh that bubbled out of him was deep and loud. The sound caused butterflies to take flight in my belly.
I busied myself with opening the bag inside my cereal box, trying to hide the blush on my face. This kept happening, these tiny moments where I nudged a toe over the line. It was so effortless. Talking turned into flirting so naturally, and I found myself addicted to watching him respond to me.
Desperate to change the subject, I racked my brain for a work-related topic to focus on. “I have a bunch of invoices and receipts for Deimos Industries.”
He popped a handful of chocolate bombs into his mouth and chomped on them, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” he said around the mouthful. “Is it one of the smaller mills? We’ve shipped to a few in Vermont, as well as some down south.”
I shook my head. “I’ve cross-referenced all our other stuff and the online cost reports. But it’s not a client.”
He frowned and sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not listed in either the client or vendor databases. Which is strange enough. Then there are records of payments coming and going. Random amounts, sometimes a few dollars and other times tens of thousands.”
“Flag them,” he said. “I’ll ask Gus if he knows what that’s about. If not, we can always do some digging online.”
I pushed my hair behind my ears. “I did, actually. I went to the Secretary of State’s website to learn more, and it kind of led me down a rabbit hole.
” My notepad had been pushed aside while we snacked, but I dragged it in front of me and skimmed the notes I’d taken.
“Deimos is an S corp incorporated in Delaware. According to the documents I found, it’s an entertainment and merchandising company. Whatever that means.”
He sat back and smiled. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. It’s a dead end. There are no corporate filings.
The company has no website, and I couldn’t find any mentions of it online.
It appears to be a subsidiary of Rhiannon Management, which looks like an investment group from the outside, but they haven’t filed anything with the SEC.
It’s some kind of holding corporation that doesn’t actually do anything. ”