Violets are not Blue

by Melissa Toppen

  “Now that that’s out of the way,” he says, standing from the table at the same time I do, “what do you say you and I go out for a drink tonight? You know, to celebrate our new working relationship.”

  “I think it’s better if we keep this professional.”

  “And being professional means you can’t be friends with someone?” He cocks a brow.

  “I think you and I both know that you’re incapable of having a purely platonic friendship with a member of the opposite sex.” I turn, heading toward the door. He intercepts me, blocking my way out.

  “That’s not true. I’m friends with plenty of women around the office.”

  “You mean the ones that are technically old enough to be your mom? Yeah, that doesn’t count.”

  “Why are you so against getting to know me?”

  “Why waste my time when I feel like I already know more than I need to?” I fire back.

  “Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, don’t judge a book by its cover?”

  “Haven’t you heard the old saying, actions speak louder than words? Your actions are quite telling, Mr. Avery. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting to attend.”

  He steps in closer, and even though my instinct is to step backward, I find myself frozen in place. He leans in, his lips inches from my ear.

  “I’ll wear you down eventually, Blue.” The feeling of his breath hot on the side of my neck causes a slew of goosebumps to break out across my skin.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Harris.” I try to keep my voice even, but I don’t miss the slight shake in my words. Something tells me he doesn’t either. Seconds later, his long fingers latch onto my right hip and he squeezes.

  “Guess we’ll see.” He runs his nose along my jawline. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t have me feeling things in certain areas where I definitely should not be feeling them.

  Damn him. Even I have to admit, Harris Avery has game. Too bad for him, I’m done playing.

  “Guess we will.” I step back and quickly step around him. I have to get out of this room, the temperature inside suddenly feeling ten degrees warmer.

  “I’ll see you at the department meeting at four,” he calls after me, but I’m already out of the room, my laptop tucked under my arm as I quickly make my way back to my desk.

  ——

  “There you are.” I’m startled out of the document I’m working on by the sound of Hannah’s voice. “You know the department meeting started ten minutes ago, right?” She hitches her thumb behind her in the direction of the large boardroom where our department meetings are always held.

  “What?” I glance at the time on my computer and then spring out of my chair like someone lit a fire under it. “Shit. I’ve been working on this process document. I guess I lost track of time.” I pause. “Wait, why aren’t you in the meeting?”

  “I was. When I noticed you weren’t, I decided to come look for you. I told Robert I had to run to the ladies’.”

  “Thank you so much. Seriously.” I grab a notebook and pen, just in case I need to write anything down, and quickly follow Hannah to the meeting room.

  When we slip inside, the lights have been dimmed and John is going over a PowerPoint presentation. About forty people line the room in rows of chairs. He doesn’t pay us any attention as we quickly take two seats toward the back of the room.

  We’re getting settled in when the door opens again and Harris steps through, looking calm and collected, rather than rushed and frazzled the way I’m sure I did. I watch him scan the room in one quick motion before his eyes land on me. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

  I immediately look away and focus my attention on John at the front of the room. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long, because not moments later, Harris shuffles his way past me and takes the seat to my left.

  You have got to be kidding me...

  He leans in close enough that our shoulders touch. “So, what did I miss?” he whispers, his minty breath dancing across my face.

  Without looking at him, I hold a silent finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet.

  “She doesn’t know because she just got here.” Hannah leans forward and answers for me, her voice hushed.

  “So we both arrived late?” He gives me a smirk when I finally look his way. “What will people think?” he teases.

  “Would you be quiet?” I gesture to the front of the room.

  Seeming pleased that he got a little rise out of me, he turns his attention to John. But that doesn’t stop him from bumping his knee into mine several times over the course of the hour-long meeting.

  The first time I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was an accident. But by the fifth time it became clear what he was doing. I did my best to ignore him, but the longer it went on the harder it was to ignore.

  It started with his knee brushing mine, then his foot, then his elbow. Eventually, he shifted in his seat so that his leg was pressed against mine for the last ten minutes. It took everything I had not to shove him out of his chair. The asshole. His little games might work on other women, but sooner or later he’s going to have to realize that I am not other women.

  The instant the meeting is called to an end, I stand and dart out of the room, not wanting to risk getting stuck behind and be forced to watch Harris act all innocent like he wasn’t touching me on purpose for the last hour.

  I make it back to my desk in record time and already have my purse on my shoulder, headed toward the elevator when Harris finally steps out of the room. His eyes meet mine as the doors slide open in front of me and the asshole smiles. It’s not a friendly smile between co-workers either. No, this smile is most definitely something else.

  Without giving him any reaction, I quickly step into the elevator, not letting out my breath until the doors are securely closed behind me.

  Chapter Five

  Blue

  The sound of NF’s Turn the Music Up pulses in my ears as my feet pound against the treadmill. This week has been challenging, to say the least, and I find the only way to relieve some of the tension building up inside of me is to sweat it out.

  I thought after a couple of days Harris would lose interest. That he would see I wasn’t falling for his little games and he’d go find someone else to harass. Unfortunately, my constant blow offs only seem to have fueled his fire.

  He’s relentless. Always finding excuses to come to my desk or finding reasons to touch me when we’re near. It’s infuriating, and yet surprisingly, a little exciting at the same time. There’s something to be said about being the sole focus of someone’s attention. Especially when that someone looks like Harris Avery.

  That doesn’t mean he’s wearing me down. Because he isn’t. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. But truth be told, I’ve always felt a certain chemistry with Harris. Maybe that’s why I try to make myself dislike him so much. Because disliking him is easier than liking him.

  The weirdest thing of it all is how easily he can turn it on and off. When we’re having a meeting, just the two of us, which is when you’d think he’d be the worst, he’s all business. He’s professional and courteous and listens to my ideas. But then when the work is done and I think that maybe he’s going to let me get away unscathed, he turns on that infuriating charm of his and his demeanor instantly shifts.

  I kick up the speed on the treadmill, determined to get Harris out of my head. It’s only been five days since we’ve been working alongside each other and already he’s got me so wound up I can barely sleep at night.

  I manage to get another two miles in before my lungs are screaming for mercy and my body feels like it might keel over at any moment. Slowing the treadmill down to a stop, I grab my towel and blot some of the sweat from my forehead and chest. I’m right about to head to the showers when something, or rather someone, catches my eye in the mirror. Sure I’m seeing things, I turn around and nearly hit the floor when I see Harris on the treadmill three down f
rom where I was...and he’s shirtless.

  My eyes sweep across his muscular frame. Sweat drips down his defined muscles, giving him an almost sparkling effect under the bright fluorescent lights. I nearly have to bite back the moan that almost escapes my throat.

  I knew Harris was in good shape, but I had no idea that this is what he’s packing under his casual button downs. Holy hell.

  Staring at Harris, I lose all focus on my surroundings. All I know is that when I finally snap out of my fog, I’ve been caught red handed.

  Harris gives me a smile and switches his treadmill off. It slows to a stop and within moments he’s standing in front of me.

  Pulling my earbuds from my ears, I give him the most annoyed look I can muster.

  “Are you stalking me now?” I accuse.

  “You only wish I was stalking you.” His eyes sweep over me, and even though I’m wearing a sports bra and athletic shorts, I suddenly feel completely naked under his gaze.

  “Actually, I don’t,” I snip. “What are you doing here, Harris?” I cross my arms over my chest which seems to prompt his eyes back up to my face.

  “Working out.” He gestures around the gym.

  “Since when? I’ve never seen you work out here before.”

  “Well, if you must know, the gym in my building is under construction, and since this one is so close to work, I thought I’d try it out for a few weeks until mine is operational again.”

  “So it has nothing to do with the fact that this has been my gym for nearly five years.”

  “I didn’t know this was your gym.” He plays coy, but I can tell it’s an act. He knew damn well this is the gym I come to. “Besides, it’s less than a block from the office so it makes working out after work more convenient.”

  “You’re a shit liar,” I tell him, spinning on my heel before heading off in the direction of the showers.

  “Hey.” Fingers close around my bicep right as Harris steps in front of me. Shaking off his grasp, I hit him with another annoyed stare.

  “What?” I grind out, eager to get away from him and his mouthwatering, glistening muscles. I can’t stop my eyes from going in for another quick glance. My god, his body really is something to be admired.

  “What are you doing after you leave here?” he asks, throwing a towel over his shoulder.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “I would, actually.” He looks around. “I noticed Brucey boy isn’t here tonight.”

  “And?”

  “And, are you two still seeing each other?”

  “We weren’t ever seeing each other, we were just...” I trail off before I overshare, but it’s too late. I can tell by the slow smile that spreads across his face.

  “I never pictured you as a casual sex kind of girl.”

  “I never pictured you at all,” I fire back.

  “Now who’s the shit liar?” He laughs, stepping further into my bubble. “Have dinner with me.”

  “Absolutely not.” I laugh like it’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I know what kind of guy you are.”

  “Pot meet Kettle.” He narrows his eyes at me.

  “I’m not a whore.” I draw back like he’s physically assaulted me.

  “I never said you were.” His smile remains firmly intact.

  “Uh, yeah, you kind of just did.”

  “No, I didn’t. But the reasons you seem to dislike me so much don’t really make sense, considering in a lot of ways you’re just like me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You prefer unattached hookups over complicated relationships,” he states. I blame Hannah. She doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.

  “That does not make us alike,” I tell him flatly.

  “Doesn’t it?” He tilts his head to the side and studies me for a long moment. “Have dinner with me.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on. One dinner. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  “You don’t know when to quit, do you?” I ask, having a hard time believing that I’m actually considering saying yes.

  “Nope.” His smile widens.

  Maybe if I agree it will give me the chance to convince him that I’m truly not interested in him. Swearing to myself that’s all it is, I blow out a puff of air and nod once.

  “Fine. But just dinner. Don’t even think that I’m going to go home with you because I most certainly will not.”

  “If you say so.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and my gaze is instantly drawn to the action.

  You hate this guy. You hate this guy. You hate this guy. I repeat the mantra in my head.

  “I’m gonna head to the showers now. Perhaps you should do the same.” I gesture to his body without letting my eyes leave his face. “I’ll meet you out front in thirty minutes.”

  “It’s a date.” He grins.

  “It’s dinner.”

  “Date,” he mouths as he backs away.

  “Harris.” I grit my teeth, trying not to laugh when he ducks inside the men’s shower room and disappears from view.

  And then the reality of what I just agreed to comes back to slap me in the face, a tight ball of nerves spreading like wildfire through my belly.

  It’s fine, I tell myself. What harm could one dinner do? Now, if only I could believe it.

  ——

  When I exit the gym exactly thirty minutes later, Harris is already outside waiting. Dressed casually in faded jeans and a navy blue V-neck shirt. He almost looks as good with clothes on as he does without...almost.

  Shaking off the thought, I plaster on a brave smile and join him on the curb.

  “I was starting to think you’d snuck out the back,” he tells me, a twinkle in his deep gray eyes.

  “Honestly, I considered it.”

  “Well, for the record, I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Just don’t make me regret this.”

  “I promise to do my best.” His eyes give me one solid look over. “You look really nice, by the way.”

  “Nice?” I snort. “My hair is still wet from the shower and I’m wearing a t-shirt, torn jeans, and flip flops,” I point out, knowing it’s not something I would normally wear on a date.

  Wait, did I just say date? I meant dinner. This is just dinner. Definitely not a date.

  “I like it.” He seems sincere, but a part of me feels like he’s secretly teasing me.

  If I had known I was going anywhere but home after the gym I would have brought something nicer to change into. Of course, I’m not going to tell him that.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask, rocking back on my heels.

  “How do you feel about wings and beer?” he asks, extending his hand to me.

  I look down at his palm and then back up to his face. “Sounds perfect, actually.”

  He takes the hint and drops his hand but I don’t miss the amusement that dances across his handsome face. I’m starting to think he actually enjoys me turning him down. I’m sure it’s a change from having women throwing themselves at him every day of the week. I’ve seen the way women look at him. Who could blame them? He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine, airbrushed and all.

  “Come on. There’s a little place not far from here.” He turns, waiting for me to step up next to him before taking off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the office.

  We walk less than a block before Harris slows in front of Harrison’s, a small little bar and grill that I’ve been to a few times over the years.

  “We’re here.” He grins, holding the door open for me.

  “Be honest, you only like this place because it has your name in it,” I tease as we wait for the hostess to seat us.

  “I know a good thing when I see it.” He gives me a sideways glance, causing my skin to flush.

  What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

  It isn’t long before we’re seated in a corner bo
oth with a perfect view of the TVs that sit in a straight line above the bar. I keep my eyes glued on the baseball game playing as we wait for our waitress.

  “You a fan?” Harris interrupts my faked interest in the game.

  “Truthfully, no.” I laugh.

  “Ever been to a game?”

  “I haven’t,” I admit.

  “That’s why you don’t like it. You can’t appreciate baseball until you’re sitting in the stands, watching it in person. The music, the fans, the energy...the hotdogs.” He grins. “It’s what makes baseball so special.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “Or you could come to a game with me,” he suggests.

  “I think I’ll pass.” I try to sound completely uninterested, when in truth, the way he described it didn’t sound half bad.

  You hate him. You hate him. You hate him.

  He opens his mouth, clearly prepared to say something else, when the waitress appears, cutting him off.

  We decide on ordering two different flavors of boneless wings and a pitcher of beer for the table. As weird as it feels being here with Harris, I can’t deny that it’s kind of exciting, too. I don’t know what it is about this man. As weird as it sounds, I’ve never disliked someone so much, yet liked them at the same time. He’s grown on me a little over the past few days and it’s as infuriating as it is confusing.

  “So, do you come here often?” I ask, a lame attempt at making casual conversation.

  “At least once every couple of weeks. This is one of my favorite spots. I like the laid-back atmosphere.”

  “Yeah.” I shift in my seat, the booth creaking under the movement.

  God, why am I suddenly so nervous? I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, trying to act as normal as possible. Not that I know what normal is around this guy.

  Where the hell is the waitress with the beer?

  As if my thoughts manifest themselves, the waitress appears, setting a pitcher of beer and two frosted mugs on the table in front of us.