by Kayt Miller
Maybe I should Ask Ida about Ben?
No matter. It’s time for me to get comfy and read some spot-on advice.
Dear Ida,
I just found out my ex-girlfriend got a new dog and named it after me. I can’t help thinking this is a good sign. Do you think she wants me back? —Scout, Manhattan
I crack up at the first one. Scout? That’s hilarious. Then I read Ida’s response, and I swear I nearly pee myself.
Dear, erm, Scout,
They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In this case, however, I think you should just assume it’s a coincidence. Maybe forget about your ex and get a dog of your own.
The next one isn’t quite as funny.
Dear Ida,
My wife of fifty-five years passed away twenty-three days ago. I can’t seem to figure out what to do with my day, my life. I miss her. She’s all around me. I can’t sleep or eat. I just want to be with her. —Sad, Brooklyn.
Oh, wow. I’ve got tears in my eyes over this one. The poor guy. I read on to see what Ida has to say.
Dear Sad,
I’m very sorry you’re having such a difficult time. While I haven’t experienced that kind of loss, I understand. So do many other people. There are several grief support groups in Brooklyn, some of which are online, but I would suggest finding one nearby where you can sit and talk with others who are going through the same thing. I know I speak for all of us when I say we hope you reach out for help. We care.
Well, shoot. That one was a tear-jerker. I need another funny one, so I read on.
Dear Ida,
I’ve got a thing for a girl at work…
Oh, hang on. This one is interesting.
…I know she likes me too, but she’s afraid our relationship will hurt her chances at a promotion. We’re on the same level at work so I don’t get why she’d feel that way. How can I convince her to give us a shot? —Mike, LIC
Well, they signed it “Mike,” so it’s not Ben. I roll my eyes at my stupidity. How could it be Ben? Everything with us just happened—I look at my clock—thirty-six hours ago.
No matter. I read on because I want to know what Ida has to say about that one.
Dear Mike,
If you really care about this girl, give her the time she needs to win that promotion. If you don’t, you’re only thinking of yourself and you’ll fall right into the “typical man” category. Be better than that.
Wow, that was…. I lean back and think about Ida’s response. It was the right advice for Mike, and it’s right for Ben and me too.
It’s settled. If Ben really likes me, he’ll wait.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ben
I didn’t see Alison in my neighborhood once in all the time I’ve lived here. Now I see her everywhere. Sure, we work together, but after that’s done, seeing her will be a constant reminder of what could have been.
Handing the guy my money, I grab the Sunday paper from the stack, roll it, and shove it under my arm. I’ve already taken Sky out to do her business, and now it’s time to do one of my favorite things: read the Sunday paper. The real one, not the online edition. I prefer to savor each and every page while I sip on coffee and relax at home.
After I’ve brewed a second pot of the good stuff, I pour a fresh cup and return to my sofa. Sky is happily situated next to me as I sort through each section of the paper. I’ve got a system. I stack my favorites up in the order I like to read them, starting with Sports and ending with the Ask Ida column. Yeah, I know, it’s probably more for the ladies, but guys write in too. Hell, I’ve considered writing in a time or two. Plus, for the most part, it’s lighthearted, which is a good thing.
I take my time through the other sections. Why not? I’ve got nothing else to do today except take care of Sky, eat, and snooze. Sure, I could get some work done, but that can wait until tomorrow.
Reaching for the section with Ask Ida, I lean down and, as gently as possible, set Sky next to me. Turning to the page I want, I fold the paper back and hold it with one hand while stroking Sky’s head with the other. I swear I hear her purr. Reading aloud, I start with the first one.
Dear Ida,
I just found out my ex-girlfriend got a new dog and named it after me…
I chuckle softly. “Did you hear that, Sky? Someone named their dog after an ex.” Scout? I chuckle again. I read the rest of the post, then Ida’s response. It cracks me up. I love this shit.
I continue reading a sad one about a man who lost his wife. “Wow, Sky.” I sigh. “Imagine being married that long.” She must have been the love of his life. I’m not sure why, but I immediately think of Alison.
Shaking my head, I read on. Ida’s advice for the poor guy in Brooklyn was decent. I wish I knew who he was. I’d go visit him, take him out to a ball game or something. The last Ask Ida post is one that relates directly to me. “Dear Ida, I’ve got a thing for a girl at work…”
So do I.
It’s not exactly the same situation as Alison and me, but it’s close. I hurry on to Ida’s advice and frown. “Typical man.” I look down at my pup. “I’m not a ‘typical man,’ am I girl?” She sighs as I run my fingers over her head. “I didn’t think so.”
Ida’s right about one thing: just because the job is keeping us apart right now doesn’t mean it will always keep us apart.
“Good news, Sky. As soon as she’s done with her consulting gig, we may have a shot.”
Now all I need to do is speed that process along, and that means I need to help figure out what the hell’s going on with that damn green folder.
Sneaking my dog into my office isn’t easy. I’m forced to take the damn stairs again. This time, I’m holding a small dog carrier that weighs a hell of a lot more than my sack lunch. No matter, because I came to work extra early to avoid seeing people and so I can take my time trudging up the steps.
On my floor, I peek out of the stairwell door and see no one. Like a ninja, I make my way down the long corridor that leads to the break room. I set her carrier down and throw my lunch in the fridge, then quickly make myself a cup of coffee using the pod machine. With coffee in hand, I practically tiptoe to my office. Unlocking my door, I slip inside and place Sky’s carrier behind my desk. Getting on the floor in front of her, I open the door and take out the water dish that snaps onto it. “Be back in a second, girl.”
Shutting the door behind me, I head back into the break room to fill her water dish when Lindsay steps in. “Well, aren’t you an early bird.”
“Uh….” I have no idea why I’m so nervous. “Yeah.”
“Whatcha got there?” She points to the small plastic dish in my hand.
“I need to water Clive’s plant.” What the hell am I saying?
“Oh?” Lindsay looks perplexed. “Are you and Clive talking again?”
My head rears back just a little. I know my facial expression reads surprise. “We’ve always talked.”
“Hmm.” I look back at her and can’t help noticing she’s got a weird expression on her face. More of a frown than anything else. “I guess I thought he hated your guts.”
I shrug. “I guess you were misinformed.” Then I smile. Mine isn’t real either. “We’ve always been tight.” Yeah, it’s a lie, but Lindsay’s giving me a weird vibe right now.
“Interesting.”
“Yep. Well, I need to get that plant watered. It’s pretty dry.”
“Uh-huh.” She walks past me and opens a cupboard door. “He uses this.” Holding up a plant watering can, she wiggles it back and forth. “He used it yesterday.”
I chuckle. “Well, it needs more.” Why the fuck am I having this conversation? And how the hell does she know he watered his stupid plant yesterday?
I reach out and take the watering can from her. I’m tempted to walk away with an empty can, but I’m already in this too deep.
“I didn’t realize you had a key to his office.”
That’s it. I shut off the water and turn to her. �
��I had no idea you and Clive were so tight.”
She shrugs as she reaches for a pod. “We’re not.”
“Sounds like you are.”
I’ve turned around, and now I see she’s looking down at her hands or her feet or something. “I just notice things.”
“Things?” Like things about idea stealing and favoritism?
“Sure.” She shrugs. “Don’t you?”
I guess I do, but not to that extent. “I suppose.”
“How’s Sam?” She’s changing the subject.
My turn to shrug. “No idea.”
“But you saw him yesterday.”
I blow some air out of my lungs because she knows. She knows I saw him, which tells me everything I need to know since Clive was the only other person there. “He’s doing okay.” At first, they wouldn’t let me into the room since I’m not family. But I sent a text message to Sam telling him I was in the waiting room. My visit was short, maybe ten minutes. While I did that, Clive hung out in the waiting area.
I add, “Concussion. He’ll be back at it in a week or so.”
“Oh, that’s great news,” she mutters, but it didn’t sound like she’s all that happy with him returning to work. No, if I had to describe her tone, I’d say it sounded a lot like sarcasm.
I might as well stoke this fire a little bit. “I agree. Sam isn’t perfect, but he’s a good boss.” I’m not sure I believe that anymore myself, but Lindsay doesn’t know that.
“Sure. Of course he is.” She turns to leave. “Are we meeting this afternoon?”
“It’s on my calendar. See you at two.”
“Yep.”
Then she’s gone, and I’ve got an overwhelming urge to talk to Alison. She needs to hear about this.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alison
The minute I step foot off the elevator on Monday morning, my feet, which should take a right, take a left instead. I do my best to rationalize why that is, but the fact is I want to see him. And Sky. I hope he was able to get her into his office without anyone noticing. We talked about how he should go about smuggling her in when we took her out to do her business on Friday. When he told me his plan to take the stairs again, it made me giggle. I told him to pack a bottle of water and sustenance.
When he heard me say that, he scowled at first, then laughed. “You’re right. I should prepare like a mountain climber.”
Once again, my mind goes back to the evening with Ben. It’s pretty much all I’ve thought about since I left his place. While I know I did the right thing for all the right reasons, it still saddens me. There’s just something about Ben that fits with me. It’s easy, the two of us. I’ve never felt as comfortable around a man as I do with Ben Schilling. The fact that he’s gorgeous is a factor too. Good-looking guys have always intimidated me. Maybe it’s because those were the guys all the girls wanted, but they were also the ones who liked to comment on my size. In high school, I had several nicknames, all related to my thighs and butt. Back then, having a big bottom wasn’t popular like it is now. Alison “Thunder Thighs” Kirby can testify to that.
But Ben seems to like my thighs—and the rest of me too. I blush remembering what he felt like pressed against my center. “God,” I say, releasing a breath. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man in my bed. I miss it. The thought of having Ben there makes it even worse. I can only imagine how good it would be—how good we’d be together.
“Alison.” I hear his voice, and it startles me out of my sexy thoughts.
Get it together, Ali.
“Oh, hey. Just the man I wanted to see.”
“Yeah?” He sounds surprised.
“Of course. Can we step into your office for a sec?”
“I was coming to look for you too. There’s something I need to tell you.”
Crap. What’s he got to say? That he never wants to speak to me again? Why does that notion make me feel so bad?
I follow him as he opens the door to his office, and I step through first. As I pass him, he whispers. “You look beautiful today.”
I woke up early and took extra time getting ready. Choosing my outfit was the hard part. I wanted to look professional and a little sexy librarian, so I went with a navy pencil skirt and a navy floral blouse. It’s one of my favorite outfits. The best part? The shoes. They’re a deep red color and spiky. My hair is in a loose bun at the nape of my neck, and my makeup is natural-looking with a pop of red lipstick. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I knew I’d accomplished my goal, and that gave me the confidence I needed for this particular moment with Ben.
“Thank you,” I say in response. I move to the only other chair besides his and sit, placing my briefcase onto the floor.
“Can I get you anything?”
I look around his space, wondering what he’s talking about. “No, but thank you.” When I hear a soft yip come from somewhere behind his desk, I stand up. “You got her in?”
“I did.” He smiles down and to his right.
“Stairs?” I ask with an arched brow.
“Yep. We got here an hour early. I felt like a cat burglar sneaking her in here.”
It makes me chuckle. “A cat burglar sneaking in a dog.”
When Ben laughs, it’s the most amazing sound. It’s deep and rich, and it comes from deep in his chest. I love it.
“Look.” I hesitate. “About what I said the other night—”
He holds up his hand and shakes his head simultaneously. “You’re right. You’ve got a job to do.”
“Oh.” I slump a little back into the chair.
“I propose we revisit”—he waves a hand between the two of us, back and forth—“whatever this is after you’ve finished up here at MFH.”
He said propose. Sure, I know the way he used it didn’t mean he wanted to marry me, but still…. The smile that comes over me is so big, it’s probably crazy-looking. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Yeah?” Ben leans over his desk, and I lean closer at the same time.
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Right.” He smiles, and I swear he’s blushing. “Well, I plan to help you as much as I can to expedite this situation. With that in mind, I’ve got some information for you.”
“Okay. What’ve you got?” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. Ben’s eyes move down and he freezes. “Ben?”
“Oh.” He shakes his head. “I had an interesting conversation with Lindsay this morning.”
“Lindsay?”
“She said…”
I listen to his story about Lindsay and her link to Clive. “But we determined that Clive didn’t write the file.”
“But I think she may have. I also think she may be the one who turned him against me.”
“Why would she do that?”
He shakes his head slowly. “We started here around the same time. We’re on the same management level. She always seemed easygoing. I’ve enjoyed working with her. She’s got great ideas. Her social media plans are always spot-on.”
Reaching down, I pull out my laptop. I’ve scanned all the documents from the green folder onto my computer into spreadsheets, so now all I have to do is search for the information I need. “I told you the three main issues.” I look up at him. “I know who the lunch thief is.”
“Sam,” he says softly.
“You knew?”
“I saw him once. I assumed it was a onetime thing, but I guess not.” He shrugs. “He’s never stolen mine, but all I ever bring are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Oh, that’s sad. If I were his, I’d make sure he had something great for lunch.
Oh hells bells, what am I saying? My lunches are crappy too.
Getting back to the conversation, I ask, “He makes good money. Why would he do that?”
“I know he pays a ton in child support.”
I get that but… “Still. Nothing angers a staff more than someone taking lunches.”
“That’s true. He must’ve stolen ou
r author’s lunch one too many times.”
“I wonder what Lindsay brings for lunch that’s so appealing.”
“I’ve seen her food, and it’s usually leftovers from restaurants.”
“Ah. That’d be appealing to a cash-strapped man.” I click through my notes and find what I’m looking for. “This one about stealing ideas. If it’s Lindsay, what do you suppose happened there? I asked everyone including assistants and support person about that. They say they’ve never had any ideas stolen.”
“They could be lying.”
“True. But why would they? It’s their chance to vent.”
“You’re a ‘consultant,’” he says with air quotes, “and nobody knows what you’re really doing here.”
“I think whoever wrote this had an idea stolen or they perceived their idea was stolen by another member of the management team.” I look up at him. His right arm is reaching down to his side, no doubt petting Sky. “Let’s back up,” I say absently. “If Clive started to dislike you about a year ago, and we think Lindsay has been poisoning him against you, we should assume you’re the idea stealer.”
Ben gasps and shakes his head, looking affronted. “No.”
I raise my hand and shake my head. “I don’t think so either, but maybe she does. Think back. What were you working on at that time?”
He leans back in his seat. When he runs one hand through his hair, I want to crawl into his lap and do that myself. He’s got great hair.
“Let me think.” Sitting up, he taps away at his computer keyboard. “I’m looking at my calendar from around that time.” It takes him a few minutes, but when he stops typing, he breathes, “Shit.”