Reaching Gavin (Good Girls Don't Book 3)

by Geneva Lee

  “Just getting in, Miss Hart?” he asked conversationally.

  Was it a trick question? If I said yes, would he morph into the terrifying boss monster George had just warned me about? I considered lying—a bad precedent to set this early on.

  “Yes,” I admitted after an uncomfortably long pause. Best to stick to the truth. “I’m not used to Seattle. I get lost a lot.”

  “An honest answer.” There seemed to a genuine note of surprise in his voice and something else. Interest maybe?

  “Would you rather I lied?”

  He raised a shocked eyebrow and I realized what I’d done. My Cassie filter had been off. I’d yet to activate it this morning. It had taken years for me to cultivate the presence of mind not to curse like a sailor. Mostly because I didn’t hear myself cursing. My best friends had spent the better part of our first years of college repeating what I’d just said back to me. But before coffee, I wasn’t fully present—at least not mentally—to put the bad habit in check.

  I didn’t need to look in the mirrored walls of the elevator to know I’d turned the color of a freshly cooked lobster.

  “I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, carefully annunciating each word to avoid doing it again. “I speak sailor—literally. I haven’t had my coffee yet, so I don’t know what I said.”

  “You don’t know what you said?” he repeated. Yes, it was clearly interest coloring his voice now. The elevator came to a halt on the sixth floor, but he hit the stop button before the doors could open. I was trapped with a god in a three-piece suit, who—rumor had it—was in a very bad mood. Except he didn’t seem like he was grumpy.

  Gavin turned to face me and for the first time I saw how young he really was. I mean, he was older than me by several years, but the confidence he exuded made him seem older. My confession had stripped that away, leaving only the man behind. A slight smirk had crept onto his lips but it never became a full-blown smile. I swallowed hard as he unbuttoned his jacket and then smoothly slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Even with the arrogant, bossy veneer temporarily lifted, he moved with ease and the air of a man who wasn’t often caught off-guard.

  “I suggest you work on that,” he advised. It took a second for me to process the soft words. At first, I thought he was being kind, a move which felt seriously against his nature. Then, I realized he was holding back.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I took a step toward the elevator’s control panel, but he moved in front of it.

  “I’ve never met anyone with swearing induced amnesia before.”

  “It’s not amnesia.” I darted closer to the buttons again, which also took me a step closer to him—close enough that I could smell the expensive cologne he was wearing, a heady mixture of leather and bergamot that rattled me. I closed my eyes for a second to collect myself. “It’s more like a filter.”

  “So your own language offends you?” The smirk had turned into a grin. It wasn’t the panty-dropping smile that usually caught my attention. No, Gavin’s smile lit his whole face and radiated out from him. I might as well have been made out of ice cream because I practically melted.

  “I don’t find curse words offensive,” I admitted. “I just think of them as words. Maybe that’s why I don’t hear them. Are you aware of every time you say ‘the’ or ‘”and’?”

  “You’re actually making a compelling argument.” Finally, a laugh. Somehow it felt better to hear it than to know he was holding it back. Maybe because it was as warm and genuine as his smile.

  “Once I have coffee, I promise I’ll be in better control of it.” I eyed the big red button that would deliver me from the incredible awareness of this moment and into a shame spiral that would probably force me into hyperventilating in the bathroom.

  “Coffee it is.” He hit the panel and the elevator dinged, announcing our arrival. With one fluid motion, he stepped to the side and gestured for me to go first.

  Gavin North was a gentleman. I’d barely processed that thought when he added, “We wouldn’t want you to lose control at work.”

  I’d been around the block with more than one guy, and I didn’t mean that sexually. I’d been cheated on, lied to, worshipped, stalked. Basically, I’d endured the full gamut of romantic relationships. That meant I was also an expert on picking up on double meanings. Like when Gavin had tacked ‘at work’ onto that final thought before we’d parted ways at the coffee station.

  But Gavin North was not my boyfriend or my ex-boyfriend or boyfriend material. And I was not in the market for one either. Which made me wonder why I was suddenly so obsessed with the topic of boyfriends anyway. Because I knew myself well-enough to know that once I started down that line of thought, I was screwed—figuratively and often literally. I needed caffeine and a clear head. But as I waited for the automatic espresso machine to warm up, Trevor joined me. It was pretty hard to clear my head when he usually induced a fog of war.

  I considered what my best friends would do in this situation. I could almost hear Jess’s calm, soothing voice walking me through a list of steps: place your cup under the spout, hit the button, keep your eyes on the machine, take your cup, and walk away. By some miracle, George, the receptionist, joined us. He glanced at both of us as he took a cup, not too subtly studying the situation.

  “Terrible coffee, but what are you going to do?” he asked as he waited for me to make my own.

  I smiled in welcome and he winked as if he understood exactly what was going on. He was stepping into the role of buffer. I owed him good coffee later, even if it meant facing another ex.

  My salvation was short lived.

  I got to step two as Trevor leaned casually against the wall.

  I got to step three before he cleared his throat meaningfully.

  I was getting a little worried about what I would do when I got to step four and had a boiling hot coffee in my hands. Better not to risk it, I decided.

  “Can I help you?” I kept my eyes on the machine. I’d never been so dedicated to going through a series of motions before in my life.

  “Making coffee?” he asked.

  I couldn’t keep my eyes from rolling, but I managed to refocus them as a stream of espresso filled my cup. “No, I’m studying particle physics.”

  A small laugh escaped George, earning him a sharp glare from Trevor. He met it with a snort. At least, I had one ally in this office.

  “You want to make me one?” Trevor asked. The edge of laughter in his voice betrayed that he was enjoying this. Not only had he stolen my internship, now he was going to spend the entire summer trying to get a rise out of me.

  I didn’t bother to respond. Even leveling another threat at him seemed like a waste of breath. He didn’t deserve anymore of my attention. I refrained from sighing with relief when the machine switched off and I grabbed my cup with a to-go lid. Shifting to George, I asked him sweetly. “Can I make that for you?”

  His lips formed a thin line to repress laughter as he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at the front desk?” Trevor drawled in a bored voice. If he wasn’t going to get me to bite on a fight maybe he could start one I couldn’t ignore.

  George got there before I could. “Someone loosened my chains, so I escaped.”

  I giggled, earning me an approving smile from George and a contemptuous glare from Trevor. It was like winning the lottery twice.

  “I’ll see you later,” George said to me, pointedly ignoring Trevor, as he waved goodbye.

  With my buffer gone, I decided to follow suit and get out before Trevor could engage me in battle again.

  “Are you going to the meeting now?” he asked as I stepped away.

  Too late. He’d launched a new counter-strike when my defenses were lowered.

  What meeting?

  I paused and made a split-second decision. If I’d missed a memo or email in my frantic dash into the office, it was better to hear it from anyone—even a snake like Trevor—than miss it. I gathered up as
much pride as I could muster and turned to face him. “I just got here. What meeting?”

  “Oh, never mind. Mr. North asked me to sit in on a meeting about their plans for the old Majestic Theatre in Capitol Hill. I think it’s just for the steering committee. I thought I would see if you were heading that way.” His beatific face didn’t hide the self-satisfaction in his words. He had been invited to the steering committee meeting and I hadn’t. He relished that fact and I wanted to kick him in the junk.

  I’d be doing the female species a favor.

  “Enjoy. I’m heading over to…” I stumbled in my search for something important sounding. The truth was that it was my second day—our second day—and I wasn’t really clear on what I was supposed to do. For that matter, I didn’t really know where to go. There was no work waiting at my desk. As interns we didn’t really have assigned tasks. Yesterday, we’d done tours and introductions. I’d expected the work to start today, and for Trevor, it had.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they have something planned for you.” He waved a dismissive hand before strutting off.

  Hate wasn’t a strong enough word for how I felt about him. I loathed Trevor. I disdained him. I abhorred him. I despised him. Where he got off being the dick was impossible for me to fathom. He had cheated on me. He’d lied to me. He’d led me on.

  I dialed Jess, who was at least in the same time zone as me and ducked into a quiet room.

  I didn’t expect her to pick up. Mostly because I envisioned her sunning herself on a Mexican beach while her shiny, new husband fanned her with palm leaves. Still, she answered on the second ring, sounding mildly breathless.

  I ignored the fact that I’d probably interrupted a honeymoon moment and jumped right into the sordid story. “Trevor is a dick of spectacular proportion—and I mean that figuratively. Because he definitely doesn’t have a dick that fits that description.”

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  I filled her in, this time fully aware of how many expletives were filtering through. I was averaging an F-bomb every other word.

  “Why is he so intent on making my life miserable? He’s the one who cheated.”

  “Didn’t you charge a $10,000 vacation to his credit card?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  She had me there. I had done that, and I’d enjoyed said vacation all the more. She had been present for that monetary revenge scheme. Hell, she was enjoying her own honeymoon because of it. “That was damages for the emotional trauma of finding him with that girl from his business class.”

  Jess wisely didn’t respond.

  “Okay,” I conceded, “so he can hate me, but why does he get to be the chosen one?”

  “Screw him. Go to that meeting.”

  “I wasn’t invited to it.”

  “Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” she advised. “He stole this internship from you. Take it back.”

  “You might have a point.” She did have a point. I’d only needed her to say it out loud. I needed to hear it. There had been bad behavior on both our sides following our break-up, but that was then, this was now.

  “Let me know how it goes,” she said.

  I promised I would before hanging up. Was I really going to sit around and let Trevor seize another one of my opportunities? I charged off in the direction he had headed before my courage faltered. It didn’t matter if I knew where the meeting was being held. I’d given my conscious thought over to my inner tigress and she was on the hunt. All I had to do was follow the trail of bullshit Trevor had left behind.

  Chapter Four

  I’d just prowled through the maze of cubicles when I ran into him and a whole bunch of people I hadn’t actually met yet. Trevor raised an eyebrow in surprise, but I forced a confident smile.

  “Sorry, I’m late. I forgot to ask where the meeting was. New intern. Second day,” I added by way of explanation.

  No one batted an eye at my uninvited presence, although Trevor looked like he had swallowed a lemon. I chose a seat as far from his as possible. Glancing around, I realized with a sinking feeling that everyone around me had iPads or notebooks. A quick search of my purse yielded me some Post-Its and a pen. My only other options were the backs of receipts. Post-Its it was. I set my phone next to the meager preparations and hoped I didn’t look as unprofessional as I felt. Trevor had worn a suit into the office today, no doubt in attempt to emulate our young boss. I wondered if I looked similarly overdressed in my wrap dress and heels. Most of the other employees had stuck to business casual. A few were in jeans. It was going to take some getting used to the Seattle vibe. I’d thought the tendency toward casual on my college campus was just that—a college thing. The more time I spent in the city, the more I began to suspect it was a Pacific Northwest thing.

  Gavin appeared after most of the chairs were taken. In a room full of his employees, most of whom were much older than he was, he stood out. But not because he seemed so much younger. He exuded an energy and confidence that had nothing to do with his three-piece suit or power tie. He walked into the room like he owned it. He did, of course, but there was no doubt that he knew that. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had that much conviction in anything. It was why the whole room fell silent as he crossed to the head of the table—and the chair right next to mine.

  I had not intentionally placed myself at the right hand of the CEO. I’d just chosen a chair based on its distance from certain undesirables. Judging from the amount of side-eye I was getting, that choice had been interpreted differently. I plastered an indifferent mask on my face and turned my attention to Gavin.

  “Glad to see our new interns here,” he said, his gaze lingering on me before he redirected it to the group. “I’m sure you’ve all met Cassandra and Trevor. They are the poor, unpaid workers we’ll be taking advantage of this summer. Go easy on them.”

  The joke was met with easy laughter. If I’d questioned how his age affected his rapport with his colleagues, I had my answer. Other than my seating faux pas, people seemed relaxed. Happy even. I wondered what had upset him this morning when George had warned me away. I’d always imagined a big city business, especially one in real estate development, to be a bit more on edge. Stock market crashes, federal regulations, homeowners associations – they could all conspire to make these people’s lives a living hell. Still, everyone here was in good spirits, except Trevor, who was looking a little green.

  “And since Becky just went on maternity leave, these interns are pretty much our entire PR department.”

  I sat up a bit straighter in my seat, feeling the burden of new responsibility light upon my shoulders. It felt better than a perfect purse.

  “We won’t let you down,” Trevor called from the back of the room. A few of the older workers shot each other looks. It was a bit over eager. And I was glad I hadn’t let myself jump in with a similar exclamation. I made a mental note to toe the line between head cheerleader and anarchist.

  “That’s good to know, because we have a bit of a PR situation,” Gavin said, turning toward the whiteboard behind him. He pulled down a screen and clicked a handheld remote. A PowerPoint presentation began. “This is the Majestic Theater in Capitol Hill.”

  The picture on the screen was of a ramshackle, worn down building that had clearly been beautiful once. The now darkened marquee was fading and drooping with years of disuse. Grass and weeds had clogged up the sidewalk and begun to grow along the walls and up toward the vacant ticket office. Still, underneath the ravages of time, I could see the life it once had. I could almost imagine the sign lit up displaying this week’s feature film. We had a similar theater in Abilene, but it had been kept up. I’d gone there almost every weekend with my parents. In high school, my friends and I had hung out there, paying for one ticket and then spending the whole day theater hopping or just waiting for the next show to start. The management hadn’t minded. It was just the way things were in a small town with not much to do. I supposed that in a big city where there
was lots of opportunity to go see movies and new theaters opening all the time, it was easy to let something like this fall to disrepair. It was a crying shame.

  “Gee boss,” a redhead piped up from across the table, “maybe you want to run it by us before you buy these things.”

  Gavin enjoyed a laugh at his own expense while everyone else snickered. “I know, I know. I’m an old softy. But this building has an amazing history. And the city was about to tear it down. Forgive me, Agnes.”

  I was a bit surprised that a twenty-something was named Agnes, but now I had the redhead’s name burned indelibly into my brain. At least, I knew one other person besides Trevor and George.

  He hit a button on the remote and a new picture popped up. This time of the interior. It wasn’t any better. In fact, it might be worse. While a set of ornate, golden carvings were still intact on either side of the screen, the curtains that should have hung near them were half torn down and one was missing altogether. The screen had a giant rip through the center. Those weren’t the biggest problems though. It was obvious a few seats had disappeared over the years. I imagined they’d found their way into hipster living rooms. In their place, sleeping bags and abandoned trash littered the floor.

  “It looks like we have some tenants already,” someone else said from the back of the table.

  “The locks have been changed and the entrances secured. I don’t imagine we’ll have much more problems with squatters. But we did leave a number of posters for the local shelters and rehabilitation centers, for those seeking a warm, dry place to sleep.”

  My heart fluttered a little at the thoughtfulness. He didn’t have to do that. It was going to be important to take care of the uninvited guests before we could move forward with any type of restoration. The corporate thing to do was to change the locks and scare them off. Gavin was worried about where those people had to go. He had a heart and movie star looks. My attraction to him ballooned. I could only hope he’d put his foot in his mouth and provide the proverbial pen to pop my burgeoning intrigue.