No Excuses

by Nikky Kaye

  “The spiders?”

  “The sleeping alone.” I tapped the laptop. “So what were you doing?”

  For once, her face was easy to read. Should I tell him? What would he think? The indecision in her expression worried me. Was it something really bad? Was she into something horrendous, like human trafficking or—god forbid—decaf coffee?

  “It’s personal,” she finally said, tracing the seam of her laptop with her fingers.

  I manacled her slim wrist with my fingers, frowning at the faint mark left there by the rope. Damn it. I’d been too rough the night before. “I’m pretty sure we’re past a business relationship now.”

  She exhaled heavily—whether in relief, recognition, regret, I couldn’t tell.

  “I’m adopted,” she confessed.

  I blinked. “That’s… fine?”

  What was the big deal? Why was she clinging to her laptop like it was a nuclear briefcase?

  She sighed. “Do you know how lucky you are to have a sister?”

  “That’s debatable some days.” I snorted. Maybe I was adopted. It would explain why I seemed to have little in common with my mother and Bobbie, who were two of a kind.

  She punched my thigh. “Seriously. I would have loved to have grown up with someone to share things with—other than five other foster kids that changed more often than underwear.”

  “Share, fight—six of one, half a dozen of another…” I stopped mid-shrug. This was clearly important to her. I pried her hand off the laptop and laced her fingers with mine. “Uh, do you want to talk about it?” Part of me wanted her to say no. I wasn’t good with situations I couldn’t clearly fix.

  “Meh. My father died, I guess, and my mother couldn’t deal. Actually, she did deal—mostly Ecstasy, and some meth. When she went to jail, I went to foster care.”

  It was a sad story, but I had a feeling it would get worse. “How old were you?”

  “About four. But I guess I didn’t talk for a while—I don’t really remember.” She tried to rub the frown from her forehead, like her fingertips could erase the memories. “I only found out recently that she wasn’t actually…”

  “What?”

  “Dead.” Her voice was lifeless. “She just signed her rights away instead while she was in prison. She didn’t even wait to get out. Poof!” Her hand expanded like an exploding fist bump. “Evanesco! No more daughter.”

  I couldn’t even imagine that. My mom drove me crazy, but I knew she loved me to distraction—literally. She was like a kitten with a laser pointer.

  Madeline smiled, but it looked fake. “At least I was lucky enough to get adopted. I knew some kids who ended up aging out.”

  “Did it happen quickly?” I tried to picture Madeline as a small child.

  “I was fourteen.”

  Fourteen? What? I didn’t know much about the foster system, but that seemed like a long time to be in it. Or had she been in an orphanage? My imagination went to a weird place where she asked for more gruel, and I shook my head.

  “Your mother is still alive then?”

  She shrugged. “I guess so. She stared at her lap. “I’ve been kind of trying to look her up.”

  My surprise must have shown on my face, though, because hers shut down like an airport in a thunderstorm. Why would she want to search for the woman who basically abandoned her? For that matter, how could anyone give her up like that? I couldn’t even give up a tell at poker.

  Her hunched shoulders widened the gap in her robe lapels, drawing my attention. My cock stirred, drawing her attention. “When do we have to check out?” she asked, her gaze on the tent forming in my robe.

  “I paid the day rate for everyone today. We have the rooms until six o’clock, but there’s still another retreat exercise today.”

  She cocked her head, her gaze shifting from my lap to my face. The freckles around her eyes stuck out against her creamy skin. She was one of those women who looked better without make-up. Or clothes.

  “Do you really think this retreat thing is working out?” she asked.

  That gap was just too tempting. She shivered as I traced her collarbone with my index finger. “Are you questioning my leadership, Madeline?”

  “Not at all, sir.” She sighed. “What form of group torture is planned for today?”

  “I’m not sure of the details, but it’s some kind of assertiveness exercise.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think you need help with that.”

  “But maybe you do. And I know you changed the subject. If you want to talk about, uh, your past…” Most conversations I’d had with women about their “pasts” involved numbers, not notaries.

  With a pat to my knee, she effectively and patronizingly closed the topic. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” With a sly smile, she slid her hand further up my thigh.

  “Believe me, my ‘pretty little head’ is not exactly ‘worried’.”

  I leaned in to kiss her. She tasted like toothpaste, my guess that she hadn’t touched the coffee validated. With one hand, I moved the laptop to her side on the couch. It had left her thighs warm, but I suspected she was even warmer in other places. She sighed softly into my mouth, deepening the kiss. If she was trying to distract me… well, it was working.

  “Madeline,” I whispered against her lips. “We can’t—”

  “Why not?”

  My eyes squeezed closed as her hand wandered into my robe. “Christ. I wish we could, but we’ve got something at nine.” And I wanted to take my time with her. With protection.

  “I found something at nine o’clock already,” she said archly, reminding me of our failed strategy at the dinner table two nights before.

  My whole body was stiff with need, my blood coursing through my body but going nowhere near my heart.

  “Believe me, when I take you it will not be with a clock ticking down.”

  With black spots starting to bounce in my vision, I regretfully peeled her hand away. My kiss was an apology, a promise, and a rain check.

  “Shower with me?” she said shyly.

  God, she wasn’t making this easy for me. “You’re too tempting.” I should get a medal for this. “Rain check, definitely.”

  When I prodded her towards her bathroom and I headed for mine for separate showers, I found myself wishing for a violent thunderstorm. It was somewhat ironic that an hour later, I was wishing for lightning to strike me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  GAGE

  “You want me to what?”

  Bobbie spread her smile around the group, but then it turned evil as she looked at me. “Stand still and your employees get to take turns hitting you with this bat.”

  Oh yes, there was no doubt that she was enjoying this exercise.

  I looked around at the people circling me in the conference room. Aaron was just grinning like a big doofus, Susan was whispering in a huddle with Madeline, and Nikhil looked like he was about to piss his stupid hipster skinny pants.

  The rest of them were staring at the floor as though it held the answer to some kind of year-end bonus riddle. Note to self: bonuses will be determined by performance in this game.

  I stood in the middle, like a sick game of Spin the Bottle. Or a piñata.

  “Ideally, you will try to not hit Brian with the bat,” Bobbie explained to everyone. “You are encouraged to use verbal communication to assert yourself and your concerns about your department. However, sometimes assertiveness can lead to aggression, so this—“ She whipped it forward and bonked me on the head with the foam-covered baseball bat. “—is a kind of back-up. Use it or don’t use it, but be clear about your objective.”

  My objective was going to be bludgeoning her to death with that stupid thing. Aaron’s grin was creeping me out, until I remembered with a groan that he’d played baseball in college.

  “Each person gets two minutes to air their thoughts, so think before you speak and consider what your priorities are. You can say a lot in two minute
s.”

  I saw Madeline nodding in agreement out of the corner of my eye. I prayed that she would take the high road, as a professional communicator. Then I noticed her pulling the long sleeves of her blue sweater down over the pink marks on her wrists from where I’d tied them. Oh, shit.

  “We’ll take a break for a few minutes now for people to brainstorm. Feel free to consult with your colleagues. Maybe you have shared problems or concerns, or issues that cross several departments. The purpose is to improve your communication and air your frustrations in a safe environment.”

  This was considered safe? For whom? Now not only was I going to be treated like a human piñata, but I also got to sit quietly in nervous anticipation. Bobbie absently whacked the bat against her thigh as the group splintered.

  “I’ll get you back for this, Roberta,” I growled.

  “It’s just part of the retreat, Brian,” she said innocently. “You signed off on this program two weeks ago.”

  I must have been mesmerized by Maddie’s ass when I gave it the green light. There was no way in hell I would voluntarily submit to, well, submitting. I wasn’t a very good bottom—I already knew that. Even at the end of a Nerf bat.

  Bobbie bumped my elbow. “Chill out. Would you rather be blindfolded? Because I can arrange that.”

  A shudder went through me, and it wasn’t a sexy one. “No.”

  Bobbie gathered the gauntlet together and reminded everyone that any contact had to remain below the neck and no junk punches. After my sister made a joke about not wanting me to lose the ability to create new employees, Madeline turned crimson and a few others sniggered.

  At first, it went smoothly, without violence. Susan brought up some very useful concerns she had about health benefits, including adding massage and physiotherapy.

  “Okay, why?” I asked.

  Susan gifted me with a toothy smile. It seemed even brighter against her lipstick. “The body is a temple, Brian.”

  Damn, how was I supposed to respond to that? “What, it’s open to strangers leaving tributes? For all that you people call me God, I don’t see a lot of fruit baskets at my door.”

  Susan’s giggle grated on my ears. “Ergonomic studies show that computer workers, which most of us are—” She made a vague, all-encompassing gesture. “—will suffer more back and neck problems, which can lead to reduced productivity and increased health care costs for the employer. I learned about it at the last Human Resources course you sent me to.”

  Her mouth said Human Resources, but I had the feeling that the flirtatious sweep of her straight eyelashes was trying to convince me to part with a whole different kind of human resource. No, thank you.

  “I’ll consider it,” I said dismissively.

  “Brian, maybe that kind of disdain is what prevented Susan from speaking up before now,” Bobbie pointed out. The rest of the group nodded, and Madeline put a sympathetic arm around Susan.

  Apparently, I was the bad guy. Was I that much of an asshole at the office?

  We went through a few more concerns with staff members, none of which were accompanied by swings and all of which could have been dealt with in an internal memo, in my opinion. This “exercise” was starting to feel like a waste of time.

  Nikhil babbled about client architecture and biometric profilers, to which I listened carefully and made mental notes. His nervous twitch turned the bat into a weapon for self-injury as he thwapped it against his knees over and over again.

  Aaron was the only person who really tried for a home run, but I’d prepared myself for that. I’d get the fucker back another time. He wouldn’t know where or when, but it would happen.

  Unfortunately, he would have to follow up with an email with his issues, because I was practically spellbound by the flush creeping up Madeline’s cheeks as she watched me fend off the bat. Her eyes widened and darkened with each successive hit, and her lush lower lip fell open a little when I grunted at one that fell across my belly.

  Maybe my Madeline had a naughty streak to her. I couldn’t wait to find out.

  Aaron handed the bat to her, and she swung it low by her hip with a loose wrist. She was the last at bat, and the room fell silent. As she was the one who worked most closely with me, it was as though everyone suspected that her assertiveness would morph to aggression very, very quickly. I almost expected dollar bills to be changing hands behind her as bets mounted.

  There was a sparkle in her eyes as she met my gaze, though. Hopefully, I was the only person who recognized the signs of her arousal. But because I had shit timing, however, my cock swelled. I gave her a pointed look, then I glanced at the bat and downwards, hoping she might break the rules and junk punch me anyhow to deter my erection.

  Let’s face it—popping a boner while being walloped by my employees would be hell on my authority.

  Madeline pointed the bat at me casually, like a cocky player pointing to their planned trajectory. Then she covered a lascivious smile with her free hand, pretending to cough. Bad girl. When would I get my turn with the bat? I wondered.

  “Let’s see. Mister Gage, I’m concerned that you work too hard,” she began.

  A chorus groans rose up and I heard someone sounding suspiciously like Aaron yell out “wuss!”

  “Um, okay?”

  “You see,” she continued, “I feel like I need to be in the office when you’re in the office, so your ten-hour days turn into my twelve-hour days.”

  Oh. “I’m glad that you’re not actually that inefficient.”

  The bat connected sharply with my right kneecap, buckling me for a moment.

  “Is that aggression or punishment, Maddie?” Bobbie called out. “Remember, we’re trying to use our words, not the weapon.”

  Madeline lowered the bat, tapping it against the floor thoughtfully. “Sometimes I also feel that you’re too inconsiderate of people’s lives, like you didn’t even think about whether we could easily attend this weekend. You just assumed we would drop everything to come. And I don’t think I was the only person afraid to speak up.”

  A murmur of agreement bounced off the walls.

  I looked to Bobbie. “Is this assertiveness or the airing of grievances?”

  “You push too hard,” Madeline continued with a light bunt to my thigh, her bottom lip captured by her lucky teeth. “You expect too much.”

  “I don’t expect anything of you that I don’t expect of myself.” She hit my forearm, and it connected with the bone more solidly than I’d expected.

  “You expect too much,” she repeated, blowing her a lock of hair out of her face. “That whole ‘no excuses’ thing…” She mocked my tone, triggering another wave of snickers and one random “you go, girl!”

  I held up my hands and looked to Bobbie, who was just watching in amusement. She was no fucking help whatsoever.

  Maddie’s eyes were blazing at me as my gaze returned to her. “Sometimes excuses are reasons, Mister Gage—and good ones. Everything doesn’t fit into your little box. You can’t control everything, and you sure as hell can’t control me!”

  She finished with a loud and solid second-base hit to my hip. The room was frozen as she dropped the bat. Her chest was heaving, but she wasn’t winded.

  Emotion wracked her body as she turned away from me and the rest of her co-workers. I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed, angry, remorseful, or all of the above. But I couldn’t fault her honesty, not when that was the purpose of the exercise. Nobody dared speak or move, even Bobbie—until I began slowly clapping.

  Swallowing my own feelings of shock and umbrage, I held up my hands and gave a pointed nod to everyone in the room to encourage them to applaud as well.

  “G-g-good job, Maddie,” Bobbie stammered. “Great, uh, communicating.”

  Madeline put her hands to her face, still facing the wall. The tips of her ears were bright pink, and her shoulders rose and fell as she struggled to recover her, well, whatever.

  Her words echoed in my head, rattling around until t
hey dented my pride and patience. I wasn’t that controlling… was I? I just wanted her to try hard, to succeed and to be confident. Was that so wrong?

  “Now it’s time for your last exercise—primal screaming.”

  What the fu—?

  Bobbie handed out pairs of foam earplugs.

  “Why the hell couldn’t I get these before?” I grumbled.

  “Because then you wouldn’t have listened to your staff.”

  The problem was that I’d been listening to my staff a little too much that weekend. I was irritated that this retreat did not work out as planned. Granted, there were elements of the weekend that worked out better, such tonguing Maddie into a spine-melting climax, but I did not achieve my professional objectives. That bothered me to no end.

  Bobbie slipped her phone out of her pocket and checked it with a nod. “I want you to think about everything that drives you crazy about work. People, tasks, computers, anything that you feel you can’t control. And then take a deep breath, and let out that emotion in one long, loud scream—straight from the heart. Now, I’ve been asked by the kitchen that you not stay in here for your primal screaming. I encourage you all to spread out around the property so you can find privacy. Don’t worry, everyone has been warned, and nobody’s going to call 911 on you,” my sister joked.

  People filed out the door, leaving her and Aaron, Madeline and myself. Aaron winked at Bobbie, and she just smirked at me as I rolled my eyes and tugged Madeline behind me.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked as we stepped out a side door, bypassing a few lodge employees on a smoke break.

  Her gaze was on her feet as we walked down a path behind the hotel. “Honest communication.”

  I stopped us at a ridge of tall lodgepole pines, overlooking a steep drop down the mountainside. Dead, golden needles carpeted the ground off the trail, old tree roots certainly hidden beneath. If we screamed here—which was an inane exercise, I thought—our voices would drop over the edge into the peaceful valley below.

  My hand went to Madeline’s chin to pull her gaze up to me. The corners of her lips quirked a little, and there was a hint of a smile in her eyes. If she was truly angry with me, it had faded. This girl kept turning me upside down. Fit into my little box? Ha! I’d like to fit into her little bo—