by Lee Kilraine
He arched an eyebrow. “So I see.”
“Okay, I’ll admit I’m breaking like three of our gazillion rules, but in my defense, you were out of the office.” After grabbing the cat, I moved back to my side and attempted to get the bottle warmed up while the ball of fur tried to escape my arms.
“Here, I’ve got her.” He moved next to me, taking the kitten off my hands so I could deal with the bottle. He looked down at the cat, which looked even more delicate in his big hands.
I nuked the milk on low for ten seconds, tested it on my wrist, then scooted over to shut off my music before returning to Wyatt’s side. “Sorry about that.”
He nodded, then passed the kitten back to me.
“Are you always so serious?” I stared into his face for a moment, before sitting down at my desk, and got the kitten to settle into the feeding. “Or is it just me you’re not too thrilled with?”
“It’s not you.” Wyatt shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes focused on the kitten, giving me free reign to examine him. As was his usual state by late afternoon, his shirtsleeves were rolled up his forearms. Between the scent of cedar and light dusting of sawdust on one sleeve, I’d guess he’d disappeared to the woodshop behind the office building. “We didn’t have the best of childhoods, and well, we’re all a work in progress.”
“Aren’t we all?” Goodness knew I was still trying to find my way for what felt like the millionth time.
“I guess so,” he said, finally raising his eyes to mine.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s okay. I think we mostly need the rules when we’re both in the office.”
“About your childhood, I mean.”
“Ah.” Wyatt’s gaze dropped to his shoes, and he pulled in a slow breath. When he lifted his head, his somber gaze met mine. “My brothers made up for it, but thanks.”
Chapter 9
Wyatt
“Good morning, Wyatt,” Rhia said from where she’d just entered the office. I watched her pause and look around the space with a big goofy grin on her face. For some reason she did that every morning, looking like she was seeing it all over again for the first time.
And I knew this because we’d now been sharing an office for two weeks, one day, three hours and forty-seven minutes. The good news was we hadn’t killed each other. Yet.
Every day she added some new item to her side of the office. The items all had one thing in common. They were painfully bright and cheerful. Hearts, and flowers, and even magnets that said, You Got This, Girl and Carpe Diem. One or two items would have been subtle, but as each day passed and the collection grew, her side of my office was looking like a parrot exploded.
The emerald green books she slid into my black-and-white Ansell Adams photography books. A vase of pink and orange flowers that looked out of place on our sleek glass conference table. You can bet the first time she left the office, I’d be taking a black marker to those neon orange tacks on my bulletin board at the coffee station. I didn’t mind her Carpe Diem magnet so much, but that yellow star might end up as a pillow for the kitten.
I disliked every bright, garish inch of it. Thank God I’d been firm and said no to Rhia painting the office. Oh, she made sure to add color to only her side of the tape line. The problem with that was it was all in my line of sight. I was darn proud of myself for not saying anything. Yet.
“Morning,” I said. I’d been at my desk since seven, trying to get in as much study time while I could before everyone arrived at the office and the noise and activity level picked up. My next exam was tomorrow, and I was feeling scattered and ill prepared.
I watched Rhia pull the cat from her purse carefully, place a kiss on its head, and settle it into her desk drawer. The cat made me nervous. When she’d first pulled it out and it had been so frail, I was afraid it wouldn’t make it. When Rhia had shoved it in my hands, it felt like dandelion fluff—too frail, and I’d had a hard time concentrating that whole morning—afraid Rhia was going to tell me any minute that the poor thing had died.
But now, only a few days later, it looked like it would live. And weirdly, that mattered to me. I’d never had a pet or been around animals even, and that was fine with me. I didn’t like having to be responsible for another life. I felt like I barely managed my own right now. To be responsible for someone—some innocent little critter’s well-being—felt like a bigger deal than I could manage right now. I had other goals I needed to focus on.
Which was why sharing the office with Rhia was crappy timing. But seeing that goofy smile on her face every morning when she stepped in the office somehow made it easier to handle. Even when she became a major distraction.
She had a morning routine. Enter. Hello, Wyatt. Silly grin. Kiss the kitten, tuck it away. Settle in with her coffee and type away on her computer for exactly thirty minutes. Exactly. Not twenty-nine. Not thirty-one. But thirty minutes every day. Then she’d print out the pages, tap the stack of them exactly three times to even up the edges, and put them away in a notebook in her drawer. What the hell was she writing? Twenty-six seemed a little old to keep a diary.
Then she answered email and began singing and dancing around when she moved to get another cup of coffee. It was like she had some secret fun playlist in her head. I’d never met someone so vivid and full of life.
And she talked. To her computer. To her clients. To herself. To the cat. To her phone when it rang and she didn’t answer. She talked and talked.
“Rhia?”
“Yes?” She turned her aqua eyes on me.
“You’re talking to yourself again.” I kept my eyes on the textbook on my desk. Dammit, why couldn’t I block her out? Focus, dammit. Focus.
“Holy cow, I’m sorry, Wyatt. I bet you’re beginning to think I’m trying to annoy you on purpose. I’m not. I swear on my stack of Hercule Poirot novels.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “If I had a dime for every time I got in trouble for talking when I was in school, I’d already be retired and sunning myself on a warm beach, sipping a frosted fruity drink of the alcoholic variety.”
“Who’s Hercule Poirot?”
“Only the best detective ever. You know, Agatha Christie? Better than Columbo, Veronica Mars, and Shawn Spencer put together.”
“Who are Veronica Mars and Shawn Spencer?” Agatha Christie and Columbo I’d heard of, so I assumed they were all fictional characters.
Rhia leaned forward and peered into my face. “You don’t get out much, do you? Although, technically people stay in to read and watch television. But, I don’t know, maybe schedule a little bit of fun, Wyatt. It’s allowed, you know? In fact, I think many people in life actually encourage it.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Just as soon as I was a certified architect. There would be time for relaxing and fun later. “But right now, I’m focusing on the next part of my exam tomorrow, so maybe another time.”
“Heck, Wyatt, why didn’t you say so.” Rhia jumped up and began moving around the room, packing up her briefcase and some samples. She’d worn her hair down loose today, and when she moved into the sunlight by the window, her hair gleamed like a living flame. “I’ve got a meeting with a caterer and a florist. Plus, I planned to squeeze in a peek at a possible new venue. But I’ll head out early and leave you in peace to study.”
“That’s not—”
“No, seriously. See you later!” She scooped up the kitten, flashed me a smile, and she was gone.
My office was eerily quiet. It felt strange. Uncomfortably empty. Huh.
What the hell, Wyatt? No. It wasn’t too quiet and empty. It was perfect. Just the way I liked it. I pulled forward my study guide for the structural systems division of the exam from the corner of my desk, woke up my computer, and got down to studying.
I was putting the quiet office to good use when my desk intercom buzzed. I grinned at it and pushed the button. Sinc
e we’d hired Sister, she enjoyed using the old-fashioned intercoms, since the multiline phone system flummoxed her.
“Yes, Sister?”
“Wyatt, there’s a man here to see Rhia, over.” Over. I was going to miss her “over” when she left.
“Can you take his name and a messa—”
There was a single knock on my door before it swung open. “Hello. I’m here to see Rhia Hollis. The nun at the front desk told me I could wait in here for her.”
“Is he there, over?” Sister’s voice came across loud and clear on the intercom. “Can’t miss him. He’s got on a big, goofy bowtie like some stuffy professor, over.”
The man cleared his throat and adjusted his big, goofy bowtie.
“Yes, he’s here. Thank you, Sister.” I clicked off the button, hoping we hadn’t just insulted one of Rhia’s clients.
“Uh… I’m afraid she’s out of the office right now,” I said.
“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just wait for her.” He walked right in and made himself comfortable in one of my leather chairs—not one of Rhia’s pink, frilly ones. I mean, I’d choose the nice soft leather too if I had the choice, yet—what the hell?
After twenty minutes of listening to the man tap away on his phone and help himself to coffee and this morning’s now stale doughnuts, I tried to put an end to this.
“Excuse me, but why don’t I just take your name. It looks like Ms. Hollis is going to be out a few hours.”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
Shit, I minded him waiting. If I had Rhia’s phone number, I’d call her and tell her to come deal with this dude. Beck had her phone number, but I hated to bother Beck, since he was still helping Sam deal with her fire-damaged store.
I checked with Sister and the only brother who answered his phone, Eli, but neither of them had her number. Apparently, the fire the morning of Rhia’s move-in had us skipping our normal steps. That oversight would be corrected the minute Rhia returned.
Which ended up being an hour later. An hour of quality study time down the drain as Rhia’s guy cracked his knuckles, returned phone calls, and recorded some lecture on osmosis into his phone.
How friggin special the dude managed to get his work done.
When Rhia burst through the door, a Technicolor whirlwind of energy and excitement, I was about as thrilled to see her as a hurricane in summer.
“I hope your afternoon was as productive as mine, Wyatt. The caterer is as good as she promised. The florist, fantastically creative and affordable. And I just—” She stopped short when she noticed the extra body in our office. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had a meeting. I can come back.”
“Whoa, no. He’s here for you. In fact, he’s been waiting here for one hour and twenty-three minutes—for you.” Yes, my words were clipped due to the tightness of my jaw.
Rhia grimaced and closed her eyes. Her whole body lost a notch or two on the energy scale. She opened her eyes and looked at me and mouthed “sorry” on her way over to the man, now standing and giving her the once-over like she was a horse he was buying. What the hell?
“Hello, I’m Rhia Hollis.” She reached out, gave him a quick and professional handshake before withdrawing her hand. “What can I do for you?”
“Answer my phone calls?” He laughed. Rhia didn’t. “Dexter Meeks. Your Uncle Montague gave me your name. He thought we’d—”
“Goodness, I’m sorry. Poor Wyatt is trying to work here. Let’s take this outside, if you don’t mind.” Rhia had her professional friendly smile pasted on her face. I’d seen it a few times this week. She scooped the kitten from her purse, along with one of the bottles, and handed them to me, whispering, “Five minutes. Tops. I promise.”
She whisked the guy from the office.
It was me and the kitten. It sat on my lap, staring up at me with huge green eyes eerily similar to a certain redhead I knew.
“She’s something, isn’t she, cat?”
“Meow.”
The cat nudged my hand, reminding me I had the bottle. Holding it out, the kitten latched on and drank hungrily all the while sidling up closer to my chest. I’d never been around animals much, but the trust this little cat gave me made me take in a careful breath.
Movement out on the front sidewalk caught my attention, and I watched Rhia lead Meeks out to the parking lot. She listened to him talk for a minute before she shook her head sadly and sent him on his way. Hallelujah.
I picked up the cat, holding her in front of me for a quick heart-to-heart. “Look at that, cat. She sent him packing.”
“Meow.”
“Right? Good riddance, annoying dweeb. I mean, who wears a bowtie in the middle of the afternoon?” Exactly. Stuffy pretentious professors who have no respect for someone else’s time and space. That’s who.
The cat blinked up at me, climbed up into the crook of my arm, kneaded its claws into my biceps, and then settled down for a nap. Its purr of contentment vibrated straight through my chest.
I refused to examine why I felt relieved and content about Rhia sending Meeks away. No. What Rhia did in her private life was no concern of mine. But the fact that I lost a good hour—probably a lot more—of study time was my concern.
That couldn’t happen again. After tomorrow’s exam, I still had three more sections to go. No sir. I needed to nip this in the bud.
I made sure of that as soon as Rhia walked back into our office.
“Rhia? Rule number five: no strange men showing up for me to deal with.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
“And come get your damn cat.” Rhia and I had only shared an office for two weeks, and I was already tired of dealing with the strays she took in. Especially the stray men. Dammit.
Chapter 10
Rhia
“Rhia, please tell your cat to stop staring at me.”
“Why do you think the cat is staring at you? You can’t even see her.”
“Is the cat staring at me?”
“Yes.”
“Tell her to stop.”
“She’s probably staring at the piece of hair sticking up on your head.” I rolled across the room in my chair, across the blue painter’s tape boundary line we’d laid on the floor and smoothed down his spiked-up hair from where he’d run his hand through it. I totally did not notice his thick hair or the sexy smell of his shampoo. It may not have been bothering the cat, but it had been distracting me something fierce. Wyatt looking disheveled and sexy was terrible for my concentration.
“There, fixed it.” I rolled back to my side of the room.
“Boundaries, Rhia. If this is going to work, I need you and your cat to stay on that side.”
I rolled back across the tape, tapped Wyatt’s shoulder, and pointed across the room. The cat was sitting, toes to the painter’s tape on my side of the line. Smart kitty.
“She’s good,” I said before I pushed off, back across the room. “Anyone ever tell you you’re high maintenance, Wyatt? I’ve got email to check and calls to return. I can’t keep tracking the cat for you.”
“I’m high maintenance?” He stood and stalked right up until the toes of his boots hit the tape line. “Anyone ever mention that you can be a royal pain in the ass?”
“That is not true!” I stood, marching over until we were toe-to-toe and nose to chest. Yeah, I had to tilt my head back, way back, to give him my narrow-eyed angry look. It was a pretty good look, so I didn’t want to waste it by glaring into his chest. “What do I do that’s so annoying?”
“What don’t you do? You’ve turned my office into a sanctuary for homeless animals and added enough gaudy color around that it looks like someone had a paintball war in here.”
“Oh, please. Not everyone likes to live in a black-and-white movie set.”
“Your phone is ringing all the time, you sing
and dance around the office, and you type like a mad woman on some super-secret project every morning.”
“It’s not a super-secret project. I’m writing a book.”
“A book?”
“Yeah, a book. You’re welcome to read it if you don’t believe me. Millions of people do it.”
“Why?”
“How would I know why millions of other people write books?”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “No. Why are you writing a book?”
“For fun. Just for fun. I know it’s a wild concept for you—fun—but it’s not a dirty word for most people.”
I watched him process that crazy concept as I moved to sit behind my desk. Wyatt shook his head, then settled back in his chair. We shot narrowed-eyed glances at each other from our stations on opposite sides of the room.
Eli entered the office, giving the strip of tape a curious look on his way in. He went straight to the long counter that ran along the wall immediately to the left of the doorway. I mean, my right, since my desk was angled halfway toward the door and halfway toward Wyatt’s desk. Wyatt and I had been sharing an office for three weeks now, and my desk kept angling more and more toward Wyatt’s desk each week. All the better to see Wyatt. Which he hated.
How did I know he hated it? First off, every morning when I got settled in behind my desk, he stared across at it (the desk, not me) dispassionately. Then I heard him inhale—carefully—and then exhale—slowly.
Plus, he told me. “Rhia, I don’t care for your desk at that angle.”
“I’m just trying it out. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll turn it.” Lie. It was working out fine for me. I had pages and pages of notes and inspiration from watching Wyatt.
“Hey, Rhia. How’s it going?” Eli asked, swiveling his head to me while he poured himself a mug of coffee and fixed it the way he liked. Three sugars and a generous helping of milk. Like I said, I was observant. I was a people-watcher. “Settling in okay? Wyatt driving you crazy yet?”
Wyatt kept typing on his computer but made some noise of disagreement, discrete and polite, of course, without taking his eyes off his screen.