by Gina Azzi
“Why not?” Her voice is strong as she brazenly asks the question I cowardly hoped she wouldn’t.
I sigh, shifting my weight until I’m sitting next to her on the couch. “We work together.”
She snorts at my shit logic. “Are Anderson employees not allowed to date?”
I shake my head, my lips curling at her direct question. Over Christmas, when I buried the possibility of something real developing between us, she accepted it without calling me on my bullshit. But this Daisy, the one sitting next to me and looking at me with questions and hope and determination stamped across her expression, isn’t letting me off the hook so easily. The worst part is, I like it. The boldness, the directness. Her.
“So?” she presses.
“You’ve just started a new job. You’re young, on the cusp of all these great new beginnings.” I grapple with my reasoning. “You should be out, enjoying yourself. Having fun. Not tangling up with a guy like me, an old man you work with. A guy you have history with. I don’t do relationships, Daisy.”
“Finn,” she places her hand firmly on my wrist. “Who said anything about a relationship?” A sly grin plays over her mouth and I look away, controlling the unexpected frustration that rolls through me. Her question is so unexpected that I feel like an arse for making the assumption. And yet, I bloody hate the thought that she’d give herself so freely to me. Or to any man.
Tilting my head toward her, I study her open expression, trying to understand what she’s really saying, or asking. “Daisy, I don’t want to hurt you.” I admit, wanting her to know just how limited my emotional capacities are.
“Good. I don’t want to hurt you either.” She says cheekily and I can’t halt the smile that crosses my mouth.
Here she is. Firecracker Daisy Kane. The girl I remember getting into trouble with Sierra all throughout their college years. The demure, almost timid, Daisy from Christmas is gone. In her place is a confident woman who knows exactly what she wants. And yet…
“I’m not sorry I kissed you, Daisy. I’ve been thinking about doing it again since I last tasted your lips. But I’m not the right man for you. You started at Anderson on Monday. You’re going to meet so many new people. Don’t rush this, or anything. Give yourself some time to settle into this experience before you jump into new ones.” The words sound responsible, logical, mature as they roll off my tongue but a coldness settles in my chest at the thought of Daisy jumping into a new experience with another guy. Like Dennis. Fuck. Why is this so hard? Why am I pushing her away when I don’t want her to be with anyone else?
Because it’s the right thing to do.
Daisy clears her throat, and shrugs her shoulders with a blasé confidence that stings as much as it soothes. “If you say so, Finn.” I study her expression for a sign of embarrassment or hurt but she looks fine. Collected.
A part of her, the emotional side, really has moved on, just like I wanted.
So why does her easygoing acceptance, her almost bored understanding bother me?
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She says, standing from the couch and smoothing down the front of her pencil skirt. Tilting her head toward the door, she walks over and pulls it open, her body swaying seductively even though she has no damn clue what she does to me. “Thanks again for the ride.” She grins. “I wasn’t in the mood for more drinks.”
I trail behind her. Grabbing my coat from the back of the chair where I left it, I tug it on, trying not to be affronted by her casual demeanor. She’s acting like we didn’t just make out, like I didn’t just pounce on her. Like we’re…friends.
This is what you wanted.
“Lock up after me.” I remind her, wincing when I realize how old I sound.
“Have a good night, Finn.”
“You too.”
I step out of her apartment and wait to hear the click of the deadbolt. Moments later, music flows out into the hallway from Daisy’s flat and I picture her inside, dancing around her living room, checking her messages, just…being normal.
Unruffled by our kiss.
Unaffected by me.
“The new employees seem like a good batch,” Aaron comments, as we wrap up a mid-morning meeting on Friday for a new account we’re acquiring.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I guess. They all seemed really nice at the happy hour.” I agree, staring at the pile of folders on my desk that I haven’t had a chance to look at because my thoughts are preoccupied.
I kissed Daisy. Again.
And she didn’t seem to care one way or the other.
“Mate, you’re getting bludgeoned, huh?” Aaron asks, following my gaze. The new year has started and business is flooding in. It’s great, but it also means a lot of account contracts, client agreements, and, well, paperwork for me.
I’ve seen Daisy twice this morning. Once on her way to grab a coffee and afterwards, chatting with Melanie and Cameron about their plans for tonight, dinner followed by club hopping. I shook my head at the clubs they listed, having frequented a few of them years ago. A stab strikes me at the thought of her meeting some sweaty bloke on a dance floor and letting him take her home. And kiss her. When just two nights ago, I recklessly pressed my lips against her mouth.
And she tasted sweet and innocent and…like someone I know is off limits. Maybe that’s the attraction? I want her but know deep down that I can’t have her, not just in a physical capacity and that makes me want her even more?
But fuck if I can handle knowing she’s with someone else. I feel sick at the idea of her climbing into the backseat of a car with some drunken knob she just met to keep the good times rolling. Not that I want to join the first-years while they’re out club hopping, because that would be utterly pathetic, but sometimes I wish things between Daisy and me could be different.
“They seem to have already bonded, clicked. Don’t you remember starting here and how much fun it was?” Aaron continues, his voice pulling me out of my own thoughts. His eyes take on a faraway glance, his face momentarily stricken. And I know he’s remembering when he first met Kate, his new secretary, the one woman who managed to simultaneously tame him and knock him on his arse.
I clear my throat. I do remember. I remember the late nights out and the horsing around at lunch hour and meeting Cassie. And then everything that happened afterwards.
“How’re things with Kate?”
Aaron scrapes a hand over his face. “Awful. She’s had a really busy week so we haven’t had time to properly hash things out. We need to talk. I just don’t know when.”
“This weekend?” I suggest, wanting this misery to end for Aaron. I have no idea how he’s coping each day. Sure, he hasn’t been as present at the office, coming late in the mornings and passing on all social outings, but he’s still doing his job. “Drop Livvy off by my place. She can spend the night.”
“Thanks, Finn. I’ll let you know.” He stands, his expression unreadable. Slapping the folder of papers in his hand, he ends our exchange, “I’ll get started on this and wait for you to draft that agreement before I send everything out.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll email the agreement over to you in a few hours.”
“See you later.”
“Aye.”
Aaron leaves my office, and I stretch back in my chair, interlocking my fingers behind my head and closing my eyes for a brief moment. I feel jumpy, unsettled, irritated. I need to go out, grab a pint, clear my head of Daisy, Aaron’s marital problems, and work.
Picking up my phone, I send off a quick text to Roger.
Me: Pint later?
He responds immediately.
Roger: Are you going to show up?
Me: Fuck off. Reid’s Row at 6PM?
Roger: Aye. See you.
Eyeing the pile of folders, I roll up my shirt sleeves and literally force myself to get to work.
At 5PM, I spot her just as she heads into the loo behind Chloe and Melanie. They’re all laughing, large tote bags on their shoulders. They must be changing for
their dinner… followed by their night out.
Before Daisy disappears behind the swinging door, I check her out. Hard. Her hair is blown out straight. It’s longer than I thought, sleek and professional-looking. She’s dressed smart, in a fitted pencil skirt that I want to slide my hands under and hike up around her waist, and a silk emerald blouse with delicate buttons down the front. Jesus, how I wish I could rip it off of her, see the buttons pop off in quick succession, hear the tiny pings as they hit the floor and roll around.
I drop my head into my hands and close my eyes.
I need to get a grip.
I can’t spend every single damn day caught up in daydreams and fantasies of Daisy. It’s not going to happen.
Except part of me wants it to happen. Desperately. And that part seems to grow larger each day, ruling my mind and hijacking my emotions.
What a mess.
Today, she wore nude tights that made her long legs look smooth and soft. And, Jesus, I groan just thinking about them, the sexiest pair of black pumps that would be better served hooked around my neck then walking around this stupid office building.
I scrub my hand over my face, rubbing my eyes harshly. When I look up, she’s gone, and I’m relieved.
But I know it’s only temporary because I’ll catch sight of her when she leaves the office and I know, just know, she’s going to be dressed a hell of a lot sexier than when she disappeared into the ladies’ room.
“Hey.” Aaron pops his head into my office. “You almost done for today?”
I nod, not even bothering to look at the documents scattered across my desk. The ones I didn’t wrap up today because my thoughts were occupied elsewhere. Damn it, I’m going to have to work this weekend.
“Great. We can head out for a quick pint before I pick up Livvy.”
“Sure. I’m meeting Roger at 6PM at Reid’s. Want to come?”
“Sure. Are you going to dinner at Aunt Jenni’s tomorrow?”
“Dinner?” I look up sharply. When did we plan a family dinner? Not that it matters, I don’t have anything else to do except work and hit the gym and burn off the sexual frustration that’s threatening to suffocate me.
“Did you read your email? Jenni invited all of us over for dinner. It’s impromptu but basically a welcome dinner for Daisy.”
“Daisy’s going to be there?” My mouth drops open slightly, as my momentary relief scatters and equal parts of anticipation and dread thrum in my head.
“Yeah.” Aaron looks at me strangely, narrowing his eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”
I cough, clearing my throat. “Aye. You’re going?”
“As if I’d miss one of Aunt Jenni’s roasts.” Aaron shakes his head like I’m talking crazy now. And I guess in a way, I am.
“Right. Sure, I’ll be there. Family dinner.”
Aaron raps his knuckles against my doorframe twice before turning toward his office. “Let me know when you’re ready to head out.”
“Aye.” I call out, my eyes still trained on the door to the ladies’ room.
A few moments later, it opens, and my breath catches in my throat. Gone is professional, business Daisy. Instead, a beautiful, alluring, sexy woman steps out. Clad in tight, black skinny jeans, thigh high boots, and a light cream camisole, I groan. Out loud.
Her shoulders are bare, some type of sweater or jacket draped over her forearm. She turns to say something to Melanie and I catch a full look at her. My hands clench into fists as my eyes track the low V of her blouse, her full breasts nearly spilling out of her shirt.
A simple gold chain winks from around her neck and large hoops hang from her ears. She pulls a small purse from her large tote bag and settles it across her body, drawing even more attention to her chest. As if that’s necessary.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she beams up at Cameron and Dennis as they meet the three girls in the hallway. After some general conversation, Daisy slips on her jacket and follows the group to the elevator and out of my sight.
I sit and stare at the space she occupied for several minutes, my thoughts bouncing from one scenario to another, imagining all the ways she can find herself in trouble tonight.
I bang my fist lightly against the top of my desk, my insides coiled tightly in agitation. I’m not used to this, the worrying, the over-analyzing, the fixation on a woman. But I can’t shake Daisy Kane.
Blowing out an exhale, I decide I’m done for the day.
I need that pint, the rowdy atmosphere of a pub, and Roger’s random chatter to keep me distracted.
7
Daisy
Dinner with the other first-years is entertaining. We take up a large table at a trendy Mexican restaurant, and before the chips and guacamole arrive, we’re already one pitcher down in margaritas.
“How’s your project coming along?” Melanie asks me over the lively chatter at our table.
“Pretty well, thanks. I’m still trying to get a full understanding for McKinnon’s brand. That and their marketing expectations.”
She nods thoughtfully, sipping on her straw. A third of her drink disappears and she giggles. “These go down like water. Yes, I’m going to begin outlining my strategy next week.”
Oh, a bubble forming in my throat at her words. She’s already outlining her strategy? Am I behind? Although I was close to the top of my marketing class at ASU, I don’t have the private boarding school credentials and fancy educations the rest of the first-years have. Am I less qualified than they are?
“Ah, stop bein’ a showoff.” Cameron bumps Melanie with his shoulder. “I’ve barely read the file yet. What about ye, Dennis?”
Dennis shrugs, his cheeks bright red from the margaritas, tiny beads of sweat dotting his hairline.
“Ye alright, mate?”
Dennis points to the spicy salsa and we all crack up. After that, the conversation shifts away from work. We order our main courses, decide on the first club for tonight, and cheers with another round of margaritas.
By the time we wrap up dinner, I feel flushed and slightly dizzy from the tequila buzzing in my brain. Pulling on my jacket, I trail behind Melanie as she pulls me into the cold night air and guides our group down the street to the club. The line is wrapped halfway around the building but when the bouncer spots Cameron, he unlatches the velvet rope for us and waves us through.
“Thanks mate.” Cameron slaps him on the shoulder. We all follow Cameron through a dark hallway and up a flight of stairs before emerging in a private, VIP booth. Plush dark purple seats surround a low, gleaming white table. In the center, two ice buckets sit, one containing three bottles of Grey Goose. Glass bottles of orange juice, cranberry juice, and water are clustered in one corner while several varieties of pop are stacked in the other.
Chloe pulls off her coat and picks up the vodka, pouring and mixing drinks for everyone. I toss my coat onto a chair and laugh as Melanie starts to shake her hips, pulling my arm to dance with her. I wave my hands in the air, my hips swirling to the beat of the music as Dennis steps up behind me, tugging my frame against him.
“You’re gorgeous.” He whispers low in my ear, his slight stubble scraping against my temple. I stiffen under his touch but he doesn’t notice, spinning me around so we’re face to face. He dips his head and peers into my face, and I pull back, shivering, from the unexpected heat that flares in his dark irises. Settling his hands on my hips, he squeezes, trying to pull me closer but I step out of his embrace.
Flipping him a smile I don’t feel, I tilt my head toward Melanie. “I’m going to go dance with Melanie.”
A sneer twists his mouth as his eyes darken further but I turn around, grabbing Melanie and tugging her toward the pulsing crowd. “Come on.”
“Wait! Shots first.” Cameron beckons us to come to the table where he lines up three shot glasses and fills them with chilled vodka.
My stomach lurches at the idea of mixing alcohol so early in the night but at Melanie’s enthusiastic nodding and Cameron’s wide grin
, I shrug. Besides, I could use the distraction from Dennis’s drunken antics. Throwing caution to the wind and reminding myself that I’m embracing my new adventure, I pick up the shot glass and toss it back, barely wincing as the vodka blazes a trail of heat down my throat, warming my stomach.
Then I follow Melanie out to the dance floor and lose myself in the music, the beat, the surrounding bodies.
Melanie and I dance for what feels like hours although I’ve completely lost track of time, my dancing only interrupted by Cameron or Dennis pressing another shot into my hand. It’s been ages since I’ve had a night out. The last time I remember drinking and dancing so much was over the summer when Sierra came to visit, and we crashed Carter’s first date with Taylor.
I giggle as the memory flits across my mind. Closing my eyes, I reach my arms into the air, my wrists crossed, as I roll my body to the beat of the music. A hard chest presses against my back and fingers dig into my hips. My eyes pop open and I turn slightly, catching Dennis’s lopsided grin, the vodka on his breath fanning across my cheek.
“You want to dance, love?” he asks, his words slurred.
Love. The endearment, while completely common, reminds me of Finn and a pang cuts through my chest as a part of me wishes he were here right now, molding his body against mine, dancing with me instead of Dennis.
Melanie grabs my hand and pulls me away, “I’ve got to use the loo!” She announces and I trail behind her, turning to see the flicker of irritation that crosses Dennis’s face.
Furrowing my eyebrows in confusion, I lose my train of thought the moment the bathroom door closes behind Melanie and me.
I busy myself at the mirror, rubbing a finger underneath my smudged eyeliner and noting the bright pink of my cheeks. My eyes are big and shiny, the alcohol infusing them with a shimmer that makeup can’t achieve.