Chapter 9
Noah
“I need a whiteboard.”
Leanna says, “Added to the list. Where do you want it hung?”
I remove an awful piece of artwork from the wall. “This is printed, not even painted. Let’s hang the board here instead.”
Looking at the wall, she nods her approval. “I can have it in place this afternoon.”
“Thank you. In the meantime, I’m still waiting on the exact details of this account, but something is off.” I set the canvas outside my door and then close it again. “Between us, okay?”
Shoving her stylus into her bun, she says, “I’m always a vault, boss.”
“I don’t want anyone hearing a rogue theory that includes accusations toward the boss’s so-called prodigy.”
“Oh wow. This is about to get juicy.”
I start laughing. “Not that juicy but it could get me fired if I’m wrong. Hell, it might get me fired if I’m right.” Stealing company funds is criminal. The accusation could be career-ending. Makes me question why I was given this account as my first with the company. Am I being set up?
I’m letting my thoughts run wild. If something dodgy is going on, they hired the wrong guy to cover it up.
Her mouth slacks, but she pulls the stylus from her hair. “Do I need to take notes?”
“No. And I’m not going into detail with you just in case I’m wrong. No point in both of us being fired.”
She leans back in the chair and watches as I walk the length of the windows. “You’re not giving me anything? Not even a hint?”
I grin. “Not yet.” Sitting behind the desk, I click on my schedule. “And for now, I have a call. If you receive the file first, let me know as soon as we get it from Olivia.”
“Yes, sir.”
When she leaves, I pick up the phone and call my mom.
“So punctual these days,” she teases. “I approve.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Noah. How are you doing? How’s the job? How’s living in New York?”
“Better than expected. Going well.” I can’t see her, but if I could, I know she’s smiling. “How are you and Dad?”
“Fine and dandy. Marina has a show tonight at the university.”
Rocking back in the chair, I kick my feet up. “You should have told me. I might have been able to come down for a performance.”
“It’s a long drive.”
“How many miles did you guys drive to come to my baseball games last year alone?”
“Too many to count.”
“Exactly.” I nod, smiling. My family has always been my biggest cheerleaders. I was approached by coaches in the minor leagues a couple of times over the past few years. I thought I’d go pro, but something changed last year.
A sprained ankle from sliding into home gave me six weeks to reevaluate. I was a star third baseman. Fucking good. I just realized that wasn’t the life I wanted to lead.
My dreams changed after last summer in the Hamptons. I was over the partying, the women, the legacy I was trying to uphold.
I changed.
Looking around the office, it’s nice, but I laugh. Would it have been better than a dugout or being on the road with the guys? It’s not the biggest, but it’s nice. I don’t regret the path I chose, but I’m still working to find peace in my decision.
She says, “The show runs through Sunday night. You can stay here for the weekend if you want to go.” I tick through my weekend plans and come up empty. Before I can say anything, she adds, “You know you don’t have to. Marina doesn’t expect you to be there.”
“I know, but I want to be there.”
“There’s no pressure. She knows you support her, but let me know if you decide to come down, and I’ll order tickets for you.”
She always told me that I’ll always be her baby no matter my age. I may not understand the whole parent role, but I know as the kid in the situation it’s time I stand on my own. “You don’t have to do that. I can order the tickets, Mom.”
“All right,” she concedes.
“Let’s have dinner next time you’re in the city.”
“I’d like that, Noah. I’ll be there in a few weeks. When I have my plan, I’ll let you know what dates.”
“Sounds good.” I kick my feet down. “I need to grab lunch before the hour’s up. Miss you, Mom.”
“I miss you, too. I love you.”
“Love you.”
I tuck my phone in my pocket as I stroll out of my office.
Leanna is gone from her desk on her lunch hour.
I keep walking toward the break room but stop when I reach the door.
Tight skirt, great ass, curves that extend from her torso to her chest, and long dark hair that falls in gentle waves over her shoulders.
The shoes . . . fuck me. She knows how to get my attention.
“Were you staring at my ass?”
My eyes shoot to Liv’s.
“Your shoes, actually.” Why lie?
I drag my tongue across my bottom lip remembering how she tasted like sin in summer. Fuck . . . if I’m not careful around her, I’ll be hard. And I don’t want to give her the pleasure. She seems like the type to collect ammo to use against someone at the least opportune time for her victims.
The thing is, she doesn’t appear mad.
Interesting.
Lifting one foot in the air behind her, she twists to take a look as if something is wrong with them. “Why?”
I’m not at a loss for words. I’m at a loss of words that won’t get me fired on the spot.
Do I really want to be searching for another job because the thought of her legs draped around my neck while wearing those shoes is something I’ll get off to later?
Or that I imagine her standing in those shoes at the edge of my desk, and she’s naked, begging me to fuck her from behind?
Yeah, probably best if I don’t mention those scenarios. “You always wear really high heels, yet no one really sees them.”
She sets her foot down, but glances at the shoes in front of her again. “I wear them for me. Nice shoes . . . high shoes make me feel stronger.”
“Stronger is a fascinating choice of words.” I walk to the beverage fridge and pull out a bottle of mineral water. With my eyes locked on hers again, I twist the cap off and start drinking.
She watches and licks the corners of her lips as if she’s a parched woman returning from the desert. In a huff, she turns away to head for the exit. “I’m sure a therapist would have a field day with me.”
“So could I?”
“What?” she asks, snapping back. She’s fucking gorgeous, and I’m beginning to think she doesn’t even realize it. How?
How is that possible? She must get hit on all the time.
Fuck it. I’m not going to lie. If she reports me, she reports me. If she doesn’t . . . guess we’ll see. “I could have a field day with you.”
“You already did and look how that turned out.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely fantastic from what I recall.”
“Guess we recall two different events.” The blow to my ego hits hard. She kicks up a heel and smirks at me. “And the memory is all you’ll ever get.”
“You sure about that, sweetheart?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she says with a wink, “sweetheart.” She walks out, those fuck-her-over-my-desk-shoes tapping across the linoleum as she exits.
Resting against the counter, I watch her go because it’s a great fucking view, but damn she’s got a whip-smart mouth. My thoughts go south from there.
Audrina enters right after, smiling when she sees me. “Hey there. How’s the first week?” And that’s the end of my erection. But under the circumstances of me being at work and all, that’s probably best.
No doubt Liv has left me in a state that will have me thinking about her all damn day, though. I reply, “It’s going.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” She grabs a bag from the fridge and then comes to stand close to me. Too close considering we’re the only ones in here. “You happy it’s the weekend? Any plans?”
“Looking forward to it. You?”
“There’s a concert down at Little Island. You can go if you want.” She casually shrugs as if it’s nothing. “We can get drinks and hang out?”
I skirt around a small table with four chairs, making a move to get out the door without it being too obvious I’m hightailing it out of there. “Sounds fun, but I have a few commitments already.” I turn to leave. “Have a good one.”
“You, too.”
I detour toward the elevator, hoping it arrives before she returns to the front desk. It’s okay talking to Audrina, but I can tell there’s an undertone of flirting. She isn’t taking the hint that I’m not interested.
It opens, and I jump in.
Liv hops in just before the doors close again. I expect a look of disappointment, especially after the break room interaction. But she half smiles. HALF smiles at me. I’ll take that half with full intention to win a full grin soon enough. “Where’re you headed?”
Leaning against the railing, she holds it with her hands behind her.
The smile is still in place. Maybe we do have a chance of calling a truce.
“Fresh air. I’m really feeling . . .” Wobbling her head, she releases a breath that comes from deep in her chest and then fans her neck with her hand. “The heat today in the office.”
“Anything I can do to make it better?”
I swear to God she gulps again and looks away as if she was busted staring. She wasn’t. It felt like a normal exchange between us. Clearing her throat, she angles toward the doors. “No. No.” She swallows again. Umm… What the hell is going on with her? “You’ve done enough.”
“I’ve done enough? What have I done exactly?”
Her gaze lands on me again, and deep pink floods her cheeks this time. What the hell? “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Yeah,” she says, fanning herself even though she’s in a sleeveless shirt when she’s usually all buttoned up in a suit. “Is it hot in here?”
I can’t stop staring at her. “I’m good, but you’re really flushed.”
The doors open, and she practically runs toward the exit. “I need fresh air.”
Leanna stands off to the side, staring at Liv. When I step off, she asks, “Is she okay?”
“I have no idea what’s going on. Think I should check on her?”
With her attention back on Liv, she nods. “You might want to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so animated.” Turning to me, she says, “Good luck,” and gets on the elevator.
“I’ll need it.”
I cross the lobby, watching Liv through the glass as she hurries down the sidewalk away from the building.
When I reach the outside, my stomach tells me to go left to the deli.
But since my mom is still on my mind, she’d give me a solid lecture about not checking on someone in need.
Acting out of character, I’m certain Liv is someone in need.
Taking a right, it’s easy to keep an eye on Liv up ahead. She’s erratic, bopping and weaving through the throngs of people. Impressive in heels, especially considering she’s tripped into me twice wearing them.
I cross the street and close the distance, purposely leaving ten feet or so between us. She detours into the park. I continue to follow her until she plops down on a bench, fanning herself wildly with her hands.
She dips her head back, soaking in the sunshine.
A hint of sweat glistens along the curve of her neck, and I’m reminded again about the night we spent together.
Strangely, I thought it had the potential to lead to more.
Now I realize that was ludicrous to even consider.
She might have enjoyed the physical connection we had, but otherwise, the woman detests me.
I never hesitate, but with her, I’d be wise to take this slow. “Liv?”
When she looks up, the sunshine fills her eyes, causing her to squint, but not so fast that I don’t catch the myriad of colors—golds turning to greens and browns mingling. She’s captivating without even trying.
It’s hopeless to entertain feelings when it comes to Olivia Bancroft. It’s best to abandon all thoughts of a potential reconciliation before I get burned twice.
Shielding her eyes from the sun, she asks, “What are you doing here, Noah? Did you follow me?”
Lying will get me nowhere. It’s obvious I did, so I reply, “Yes. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“I’ll be fine. I just . . .” Her gaze pivots to a couple walking by and then back to me. Her shoulders fall as if she can finally breathe. “Thank you for checking on me.”
“It was that or a double meat Italian sub.”
She laughs, the grace of her hand covering her chest. “You chose me over double meat? I’m flattered, Westcott.”
“Who says they’re mutually exclusive?” It earns me a smile and a chuckle under her breath. I’ll take it. Beats seeing her upset.
I nod to the path from where we came. “It’s good to see you’re fine. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” I don’t make it five feet before she says, “You can stay.”
I turn back. “Something must really be wrong to warrant that kind of invitation. You sure you’re feeling okay?”
She laughs again. “I’m feeling better now.” Patting the bench beside her, she adds, “I think . . .” She searches the sky for her thoughts, and then looks at me again. Sincerity softens her gaze. “You’re being very kind to someone who hasn’t been the same to you.”
I didn’t see this coming . . . “That’s how people react when threatened.”
She says, “I appreciate the grace, but I am sorry.”
I return to sit on the other end of the bench, not because I couldn’t have sat closer but because I want her to be comfortable. “Thank you, but it’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Gentle laughter rocks her shoulders. She scans the park, her eyes eventually latching onto some guy rollerblading while a dog runs beside him. “We should talk.”
A chuckle reverberates in my chest as her words strike a funny chord inside me. “Oh yeah? What do you want to talk about?” Watching the pigeons peck around on the sidewalk, I ask, “Do you want to talk about what happened back at the office?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. Have you read any good books lately?”
Her laughter has me glancing over at her just enough to see a genuine and beautiful smile. “A few great board books.”
“Yeah?” Now I chuckle, leaning forward to rest my arms on my legs. I tilt my head to look at her. “Do you have a favorite?”
“There’s a truck book with an excavator in it. I’ve discovered I love to say excavator. Why is that word so fun to say?”
“Excavator.” I grin, thrown off by the most unique response I’ve ever received. “It’s a good word, but I didn’t take you for the baby book type.”
A quick shrug of her shoulders reminds me that she’s younger than she lets on most days. Her job has sucked the vivaciousness she had when we first met right out of her. Seeing her relaxed in the sunshine and enjoying a few minutes in the park changes my outlook on her.
She stands and moves in front of me. “We only have a few minutes left of lunch. What do you say we go get your double-meat Italian before we run out of time?”
I stand, and we start walking, together this time. “Why does it sound so dirty when you call it a double-meat Italian?”
“Is there any other way to say it?” She cracks up. Whatever was getting to her earlier has faded away. It’s not like two coworkers walking together; it feels more like friends on the same side.
Like she soaked in the sun, I take her in—her voice, the laughter, her eyes as she glances over at me, and the smile. . . the smile that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t hate me as much as I believed.