We Shouldn't

by Vi Keeland

  She offered a sincere smile. “Thanks for the offer, Lucas. But I have a lot of work to do today.”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Okay.”

  Annalise avoided my gaze, looking down at her phone.

  “You ready, buddy?” I asked.

  “Yep!” He ran to the door, rather than walking.

  The kid had a shitload of energy.

  I waited for Annalise to look up, but she didn’t. Eventually, I spoke to the top of her head.

  “Thanks for hanging out with him.”

  I wanted to say I was sorry for last night, too. But the timing wasn’t right. Plus, I’d apologized for a half dozen other times I’d acted like an asshole already. I wasn’t sure she’d accept it this time…or that I even deserved her to.

  Chapter 21

  * * *

  November 1st

  Dear Me,

  So far eighth grade sort of sucks. I’m taller than almost all the boys. No one asked me to the Halloween dance, so I went with Bennett. He didn’t want to dress up, but I made him be Clark Kent. He wore some nerdy glasses and a dress shirt with a Superman shirt underneath. I went as Wonder Woman. My friends all think Bennett is hot and were jealous. So that was fun.

  For my birthday, Bennett and his mom took me to the monster truck show. Mom’s new boyfriend, Kenny, sells stuff at the concession stand, so we got free hot dogs and sodas.

  The landlord is trying to kick us out of our house again. Mom lost her job at the diner and says we’re probably going to have to move. I hope it’s not too far.

  I love my English teacher, Mrs. Hoyt. She said my poems have a lot of potential and wanted to enter some in a contest. But the entry fee was twenty-five bucks and Mom said we have better uses for our money. Mrs. Hoyt surprised me and entered me anyway. She said the school had a fund to help out for things like that. But I have a feeling it was really Mrs. Hoyt’s money that paid. So I dedicate this poem to you, Mrs. Hoyt.

  Flowers will wither

  love blossoms in the warm sun

  cold comes way too soon

  This letter will self-destruct in ten minutes.

  Anonymously,

  Sophie

  Chapter 22

  * * *

  Bennett

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Annalise all day.

  Luckily, Lucas didn’t seem to notice since he was busy eating a giant tub of popcorn, two hot dogs, and a soda large enough to fill a sink basin. We had third-row seats, so the roar of the trucks and our earplugs also kept us from talking much. With nothing to do but sit in my seat, I couldn’t stop obsessing over Annalise’s face when I’d walked out of the bullpen earlier. She’d moved past angry and now settled in on hurt.

  God, I’m such a dick.

  After the show was over, Lucas and I were walking to the car in the parking lot when my phone buzzed with a text.

  Cindy.

  Now there’s a name I hadn’t thought about in a while. It’d been a few months since we’d had any contact. Cindy was a flight attendant I’d met on a business trip last year. She lived on the east coast, and we’d hooked up a few times—twice while I was in New York City and once while she was out here. Apparently she was in town tonight on an unexpected layover and wanted to know if I could go out. Go out meant a quick dinner and then staying in her hotel room all night.

  It was probably exactly what I needed.

  A sure-thing good time.

  Simple. No complications.

  Relief from some pent-up frustrations.

  Yet I tucked my phone into my pocket and didn’t immediately text back.

  I’d call her after I drove Lucas home.

  But after I dropped him off, I knew I needed to take care of something before I made plans with Cindy tonight. I owed Annalise an apology, and that should come before my good time. So I drove to the office. It was nearly five o’clock, so I had no idea if she’d still be there. She’d probably come in early this morning to get a jump on the day. It was Saturday, after all. Yet I took the drive over anyway.

  The area around the office was commercial and became a ghost town on the weekends, even more so at night. So the closer I drove, and the more empty parking spots I passed, the less I thought she’d still be at the office. Until I hit our street and saw a sole car in the parking lot—one that looked exactly like mine.

  ***

  The lights were off in the reception area until the motion-activated system flickered them on. A few people had been working earlier today in various departments, but as I passed through the hallways now, the entire floor seemed to have emptied out. Every office was either dark or had the door closed.

  Except for one.

  Light streaked the hallway carpet from an open door at the far end. But it wasn’t until I got two doors away that I heard any sound.

  I stopped in place, hearing a voice. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Annalise. She was…singing. It was a vaguely familiar country song I’d heard a few times—something about losing your dog and best friend—but, damn, her voice was good, like a sweet angel, with a little vibrato devil soul aching to come out. It made me smile.

  I wanted to listen more, but I was even more curious to see what she looked like while she sang. So I walked the few steps to her doorway.

  Her head was down, her nose buried in a file cabinet, and earbud wires dangled from her ears. She didn’t immediately notice me. I could only see her profile, but it gave me a brief chance to watch her. And I was awestruck by how beautiful she looked.

  She had on jeans and a white button-up shirt, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Yet she’d never looked more gorgeous. The lack of a fancy business suit and blown-out hair allowed the focus to be just her. Some people needed all that window dressing. But not Annalise. Her beauty came from the flawlessness of her porcelain skin, the smooth curves of her body, and eyes I knew lit with fire. And that voice…I was completely transfixed.

  As I stared, she craned her neck a little more to thumb through some files, and the movement must’ve caused her to catch a shadow in her peripheral vision.

  Her head whipped up, eyes went wide, and singing cut off mid-word.

  “Oh my God!” She stood and ripped an earbud from her ear. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  I held my palms up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She put her hand over her chest and took a few deep breaths. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long.”

  “I guess I had the music too loud, so I didn’t hear you.”

  Or I didn’t say anything so I could keep looking at you. To-may-to. To-mah-to.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I stopped by to talk to you.”

  She shut the file cabinet drawer. The initial shock had worn off, and her voice went flat. “I’m all talked out. Just go away, Bennett.”

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets and took a step into her office. “You don’t have to talk then. Just listen. I’ll get out of your way when I’m done.”

  She wore a mask of indifference, but said nothing—apparently this was my opportunity.

  I cleared my throat. “I didn’t lie in the hotel room. I do think you’re beautiful, and I was jealous of that guy’s hands on you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I thought you didn’t remember anything you said that night.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Okay. So that was a lie. But what I said that night—it wasn’t.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I took another step toward her. “It was easier to say I didn’t remember saying those things and let you chalk up what I’d admitted to drunken ramblings.”

  She looked down for a minute, and when she looked back up, she seemed hesitant to accept what I was saying.

  “Why didn’t you want me to remember what you said?”

  And there was the million-dollar question. I could’ve given her a perfectly acceptable answer that made sense
and was probably the one that should’ve been true—because we’re competing for the same job, and it would’ve been inappropriate—but that answer would have been bullshit.

  I owed her some honesty, so I swallowed my pride. “Because every word I said that night is the truth, and it scares the living fuck out of me.”

  Her lips parted, and her face flushed a light shade of pink. I loved how she couldn’t lie or get embarrassed without showing it. It made me wonder if it also happened when she was turned on. I bet it did.

  “Why does it scare you?” she asked quietly.

  The questions just kept getting harder. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to find the right words.

  “Because I’ve never been a jealous person. Might not have had a long-term relationship like you have, but I’ve dated enough. Sometimes saw the same person every weekend for months. Yet I never asked what she did during the week. Because I didn’t care. It was always about the day, the time we spent together. Jealousy is about tomorrow.”

  She mulled that over for a while, then nodded and asked a question I didn’t expect. “Who is Lucas to you?”

  “He’s not my son, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “In the bullpen this afternoon he mentioned he lives with his grandma and you two spend every other Saturday together.”

  I nodded. “His mother died, and his father is a deadbeat who doesn’t care if he exists. He’s my godson.”

  She turned and looked out the office window. When she turned back, she said, “Anything else you need to say?”

  Shit. Had I forgotten something? It sounded like she was prompting me for more. I quickly ran back through everything I’d said…I’d admitted I lied, admitted I thought she was beautiful and had been jealous. What else was there?

  Seeing the lost look on my face, she tossed me a life ring. “You’ve been a jerk to me all week. Especially last night at the bar.”

  Oh. Yeah. That. I smiled. “Did I mention I was sorry for acting like a dick? Because I could have sworn I led with that.”

  She smiled back. “You didn’t mention it, no.”

  I took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry for acting like a dick.”

  “Again, you mean.”

  I nodded. “Yes, again. I’m sorry for acting like a dick again.”

  She searched my face. “Okay. Apology accepted. Again.”

  “Thank you.” I’d pushed my luck enough with her for the day, so I figured I should take off. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I didn’t really want to leave, so I took my time turning around. She stopped me right before I made it to her doorway. “Bennett?”

  I turned back.

  “For the record, I find you attractive, too.”

  I grinned. “I know.”

  She laughed. “God, you’re such a jerk. I think that’s more the reason you’ve never had a Valentine than you not wanting candles and romance.”

  “You want me to be your Valentine, don’t you? Probably because you think I’m so hot.”

  “Goodnight, Bennett.”

  “’Night, beautiful.”

  Chapter 23

  * * *

  Annalise

  The waiter finished refilling our wine glasses. “I’ll check on your dinners. Is there anything else I can bring you in the meantime?”

  I looked to Madison and then the waiter. “I think we’re good. Thank you.”

  He walked away, and Madison’s eyes followed him.

  She lifted her glass to her lips. “You should sleep with him.”

  “The waiter? He’s, like, twenty.”

  “No. I should sleep with the waiter. You should sleep with the Beast.”

  I’d just finished catching her up on the last week of office drama—from our visit with Star Studios and Bennett’s subsequent attitude, to the unexpected weekend, office pop-in and this week’s flirty banter. My relationship with Bennett changed as often as people changed their underwear.

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. Sleep with the guy who’s trying to steal my job.”

  “Why not? You know that old saying…keep your friends close and fuck the shit out of your enemies.”

  I laughed. “That’s not exactly the saying.”

  She shrugged. “Let’s be pragmatic about this. You’ve already admitted you’re attracted to each other. It’s not like that’s going to go away. And you need to get back out there. He’s moving in a few months anyway, so he’s the perfect rebound guy.”

  “I love that you’ve already decided he’s the one who’s moving and not me.”

  “Of course. The fact that you’re going to win is a given. You can’t leave me.”

  I sighed. “Bennett is not the kind of guy I would date.”

  “Did I say anything about dating? I said you should sleep with him, not court him as prospective husband material. Fuck his brains out, not go shopping to pick out china patterns together.”

  “That’s…” I trailed off. My gut reaction was to say crazy. But I had to admit…the thought was pretty damn appealing.

  Madison grinned like a Cheshire cat. She knew me well.

  “You’re thinking about fucking him, aren’t you?”

  “No.” I felt my skin start to heat. “And before you say anything…it’s warm in here.”

  “Uh-huh.” She grinned. “Sure it is.”

  ***

  The next day, I was working on printing a logo using the 3D printer when the damn thing jammed up. I couldn’t seem to unclog the nozzle. Bennett walked over when he saw me taking it apart.

  “Need some help?”

  “It was in the middle of printing something, and then it started to make a clicking sound. I think the nozzle is jammed up with filament.”

  “Is this the first thing you printed?”

  “No. I did two other projects before this, and they printed fine.”

  Bennett rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Sometimes a heat creep happens. The hot end needs to cool before it heats up each time, or the filament liquifies too much and causes a jam.”

  I stared down at his forearms. They were corded and tanned, but that wasn’t what had my rapt attention—it was the ink peeking out where he’d folded his shirt up.

  Bennett noticed where I was focused. “You have any ink?”

  “No. Is that your only one?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “You’d have to do a full-body check to find that out.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He turned some nobs on the printer, then pulled out a silver tray and reached one arm inside the machine. When his arm came back out, I could see a little more of his tattoo. It looked like Roman numerals with something wrapped around them.

  “Is that a vine?”

  He nodded. “It’s from a poem that’s special to me.”

  Huh. Not what I expected.

  Bennett opened and closed a few trays and then inserted the silver one he’d removed back into the printer.

  “It’s what I thought. You’ve got a heat creep. The hot end probably didn’t have the proper time to cool down. I used it for a few hours this morning, too. Cancel the job and give it an hour. When the filament cools down, it will unclog on its own.”

  “Oh. Okay, great. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He began to unfold his shirtsleeve. “If you need it faster, I have a small fan in the bottom drawer of my desk. If you set it up on top of the printer and angle the air blowing down, it will speed up the cool off.”

  “It’s okay. I can wait.”

  I felt a tad bit guilty that I was printing stuff to take with me to Star Studios in a couple of days, and here he was helping me.

  “Did…Tobias ever call you back?” I asked.

  The muscle in Bennett’s jaw flexed. “Nope. Left three messages.” Our eyes met briefly before he looked away. “Let me know if you have any other problems.”

  I nodded, feeling guilty. He made it three steps away before
I caved. “Bennett?”

  He turned back. “The lunch is Thursday at one. Marina made my reservation. Come with me. We’re one company. We should go together.”

  It was the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t the smartest thing.

  Bennett squinted. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I plan to kick your ass based on my work, not because some client might be attracted to me so he isn’t calling you back.”

  “So you’re finally admitting that jerk’s attracted to you?”

  I took a play from Bennett’s book. “Isn’t everyone?”

  ***

  I zipped the carry-on bag on the floor shut.

  “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?”

  I looked up to find Bennett sporting a dirty grin.

  “I meant the presentation you got in that bag. Get your mind out of the gutter, Texas.”

  I smiled. “I was beginning to think you were standing me up. The flight just began to board.”

  Bennett set a box down on the seat next to me in the waiting area and held up his hands. They were covered in black dirt and grease. “Got a flat. I had to change a tire on the way to the airport.”

  “A tire? You drove and parked? Why didn’t you just grab an Uber?”

  “I did. But we got a blowout halfway here. And the driver was, like, seventy with a bad back. He called AAA to change the tire for him, and they said it would be a forty-five-minute wait. With rush hour traffic, I didn’t have time for that. So I changed it myself.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s dedication.”

  “I would’ve run here, if push came to shove.” He looked over at the line for boarding. “Looks like we have a few minutes. I’m going find a bathroom and try to get my hands clean. Can I leave my presentation with you?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “Are you sure I can trust you not to peek and steal my ideas?”