She was smiling at him. “Thanks for this. What are we working on today?”
The next week flew by. Work was a joy, which was a surprise for both of them. Kaylee had been warned that graphic design was a cutthroat business, that her coworkers were likely to steal clients and projects and undermine her work, all while smiling politely and chatting around the lunchroom table. Jules seemed different. He was being honest with her, giving her a fair chance, and not taking credit for her ideas.
Jules had been working for Print Shop Pros long enough for the day-to-day work blues to settle in. He enjoyed his job, in theory, but in practice the drudgery of client consultations and office niceties wore on him. Now he was actually looking forward to spending the day at work—with Kaylee. That was the big difference. Kaylee was refreshing, she was smart and funny, and she wasn’t afraid of showing anyone how smart she was. He recognized her intense drive, and he had no choice but to help her succeed. Anything else would have been a betrayal of his entire past, everything he had worked so hard for, and all the people who had helped him along the way.
Neither of them mentioned the kiss in the pub parking lot, but sometimes he felt her eyes on him as he worked. Occasionally their eyes would meet in the quiet periods of intense work, and she would smile before looking away. Something about that smile and the way she seemed to look at him through her eyelashes made his pulse speed up a little.
They went out for lunch or dinner a couple of times, or ate lunch together in the office, as inspiration swept them along. Often the evenings would find them texting or emailing ideas back and forth. Friendly ribbing and light flirting accompanied the after-hours work.
It was Wednesday and they were halfway through the design on a company webpage that would have been going smoothly if the client hadn’t been sending them new “ideas” and forgotten requests every day. Still, they were making progress and the home page, barring any last-minute additions, appeared to be complete.
“Want to catch a bite to eat?” Kaylee asked as they were shutting down.
“My wallet’s looking a little lean,” Jules said honestly. “But I have a full fridge right now. My mom taught me a few classic Cajun recipes.”
“I don’t know.” He could hear the unease in her voice.
At that moment, Freddie tapped on the doorframe and stepped inside. The office wasn’t large and two people, especially one the size of Jules, made it feel crowded. He’d gotten used to Kaylee and they didn’t step on each other, but adding a third person to that mix when no one was sitting down made Jules feel like a sardine in a can. And he could see the discomfort plainly on Kaylee’s face. Her hook and chair were closer to the door than his, which meant she was now stuck between them. There was no way for Jules to move around her that wouldn’t look forced or aggressive. His bear was always aware of those unspoken cues of dominance and aggression.
“Hey, Kaylee. I’m getting ready to send off your second report to your instructor. I see you and Jules are done here for the day. Did you have a moment to come to my office? I know you bus, so I can give you a lift home afterwards.” He was smiling, and the whole thing should have sounded professional and friendly.
Kaylee didn’t think it was entirely professional. She did a mental check of her wardrobe and felt thankful that she’d worn jeans and a top that wouldn’t make it easy for him to get a peek at her breasts. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m sure you’re grading me fairly.” She offered him a smile, and Jules could see the strain around the corners of her mouth.
He shrugged into his coat and adjusted the collar. “Well, I’m out of here,” he said.
“Excuse me,” Kaylee said to Freddie. “If he’s leaving I’d better go too.”
“You don’t have to keep the same schedule as your mentor,” Freddie said. “That’s why I gave you a key.”
“I do if I’m going to get dinner tonight,” she said. She caught Jules’ arm as he went past her. “You mentioned something about Cajun?”
“A little late in the day to start on the gumbo, but I make a mean Cajun chicken.”
Freddie stepped out into the hallway to give them space.
“I like chicken,” she said. “Is it going to be hotter than the wings down at the pub?”
He chuckled. “Kaylee, if that’s your idea of hot you’re in trouble.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I can take a little heat.” They left Freddie behind them and headed out to the parking lot.
Jules opened the car door for her and said, “So, should I drive you home?”
She paused in the space between him, the car, and the open door. She was now in a space even smaller than the office, but she no longer felt trapped. “What about chicken?”
“I wasn’t sure if you actually wanted chicken or if I was just helping you ditch Freddie.”
“You’ve intrigued me with this spicy chicken. I really do like things hot.”
A broad smile spread across his face. “Then hop in and I’ll cook you dinner tonight.”
His apartment building was in another rundown part of New Orleans not far from the office. The narrow street and even narrower alleys were proof this area of town had been built long before the open-concept city planning of wide streets, wide sidewalks, and urban landscaping had become a thing.
“We got some building updates as part of the Katrina rebuild,” he explained as they walked through the lobby to the elevators. “But aside from fixing a few leaks and a broken washer, we haven’t seen maintenance in ten years.”
“At least you have a maintenance man,” she said.
“True.” Why he felt like making apologies for his life with her he didn’t know. He’d seen her neighborhood. But, he supposed, old habits didn’t like to die, and he didn’t often have people over.
His apartment was small but clean. There was a couch in the living room opposite a modest entertainment stand and television, but there wasn’t really space for any more furniture in that room. The kitchen set was secondhand, but at least his four chairs matched each other. He took her jacket and hung it in the closet for her. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure, that would be nice.”
He peered into the fridge, noting that he had finished the milk with breakfast and had not picked up more on his way home from work as he’d intended. “Um, water or beer? It’s not Guinness, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll start with a water—save the beer for supper.”
He got her a glass and then started pulling out ingredients for dinner.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Here.” He handed her a head of lettuce, a tomato, and a knife. “I’ll grab you a bowl and you can make the salad.”
“Sure.”
She worked quietly at the table watching Jules move around the tiny kitchen. He completely filled the space, but watching him reach for utensils and ingredients, opening and closing doors and drawers, he belonged there. He knew the space and it knew him; it was like watching a dancer.
He’d think that was silly, she thought. If we were to move in together, we’d need a bigger kitchen.
Now, where had that thought come from? We’re friends, coworkers, sharing a midweek dinner. He’s never made a move on you, hasn’t even mentioned that kiss. Why did I have to kiss him? Thank god, he didn’t get weirded out and transfer me to another designer for my internship.
The smell of Cajun spices soon filled the kitchen, and it reminded Jules of his mother, Simone. She loved cooking, even if she rarely had the time to indulge in the pleasure. Being a single mother, even with the child support, she had worked two jobs. Of course, in those early years when his father had refused to pay, things had been even tighter and they ate a lot of macaroni and cheese. It wasn’t until Jules first shifted into a round-faced juvenile bear that the clan had stepped in and forced Gabriele to pay the child support. He found out later that Brock’s father and Remy’s father had purchased many of his Christmas gifts, his own personal Santas.
/> But they survived, and Simone now had a nice apartment and a job as a typist at one of the small businesses owned by the Tandell family corporation.
“I can’t believe your mom taught you to cook,” Kaylee said.
Jules glanced over and smiled. “I think if the world had been a little kinder to her, she would have been a chef,” he said. “She loves being in the kitchen.”
“My mom rarely has time to cook, and her mom didn’t really teach her many recipes.”
“My mom didn’t cook much when I was little,” Jules said.
“And it was just the two of you, right?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, I have two siblings. It’s always crazy at my house.”
“There was a time when I desperately wanted siblings.”
“You really don’t.”
“Probably not. But I was alone a lot as a kid because my mom worked.”
“If you had siblings you would have been cooking for them and putting them to bed while your mom worked.”
“I guess that’s what life was like for you?”
“Yeah. I mean, my siblings are quite a bit younger than me because my dad did a stint in prison when I was little—drug bust, my mom says. When he got out he said he was clean and staying that way. That didn’t last long at all.”
“We are not talking depressing childhood shit again today,” Jules said. “Not when there’s good food to eat and better things to talk about.”
“You’re right.” She got up and wandered into his living room. “You don’t have a lot of movies on your shelf.”
“I don’t watch a lot of movies, actually, and I can watch most of them on demand.”
“That’s true. I guess DVDs are going to become obsolete. Wow, these are really random.” She ran her finger over the cases. “A couple documentaries, some action flicks, an action comedy. Oh, this one is a classic sci-fi, good choice.”
“Sorry, no romantic comedies,” he said.
“I don’t care. I never watch them anyways.” She held up the science fiction title. “I think this is more honest about the way things are than any romantic comedy.”
“You don’t think romance is funny?”
“I don’t think romance is as common, innocent, or fun as they make it out to be.”
“I just think they’re hokey,” he said. “So, you don’t like chick flicks and you do like science fiction.”
“And epic fantasy.” She shrugged. “I’m not really the typical girl, I guess.”
“Actually, sixty percent of comic book movie fans are now female. Some women probably like both, but you’re not alone.”
“That’s always a good feeling. So, what about music? Looks like you’re a strictly digital download listener, so I can’t snoop through your collection.”
“I’d let you snoop through the music library on my computer if you promised not to go looking for the porn.”
Something in his voice told her it was a joke, and she actually laughed. “That’s okay, just tell me what you like.”
“I grew up listening to R&B, Motown, blues, that sort of thing. A little bit of traditional Creole music too, but except for some local groups it was hard to find. I mostly download songs I like because I like them. I’m not one to download entire albums because I liked one song by the artist, so my collection is really odd.”
“Huh. Well, you didn’t strike me as a pop fan and I couldn’t see you listening to country, so I guess that makes sense. Personally, I like upbeat stuff—pop, rock, club dance, alternative, a little techno. I don’t like the screamy stuff though.”
“Do you dance?”
“Only when I’m at the club and only when no one I know can see me.”
“Oh, come on. I bet you’re a great dancer.”
“I’ve never seen myself so I don’t know, but I’m self-conscious about it.” She shrugged. “If you don’t watch a lot of movies, do you watch sports?”
“Oh god, no.”
“Not a sports fan, eh?”
“Not at all.”
“Me neither.”
“This chicken is ready,” he said. He came out of the kitchen with two plates. Besides the chicken, he’d also made noodles tossed with vegetables and sauce.
“Oh wow, that is a lot fancier than I was expecting.”
“The veggies were frozen and the sauce is from a package,” he said. “If that makes you feel better.”
“It does, yes.”
“I usually eat in the living room, but the table is clear so …”
“Living room is fine by me.”
“Grab the plates and I’ll get the wine.”
As she leaned in to grab the plates she kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for this. It looks and smells amazing.”
He blushed and retreated to the kitchen. She set the plates on the end table and reached for the remote. “You weren’t watching a porn station last, were you? Because I’m turning the TV on.”
“It’s safe,” he called back.
She turned on the TV but was met with a blank screen. Jules came in with two glasses of wine. He set these on the table with the plates and gently took the controller from her hands.
“I don’t watch much TV either. I’ll get Netflix up and running and you can pick something for us to watch.”
“Here I am teasing you,” she said taking the remote back, “and you’re taking it in stride, so you’ve got me curious. Do you watch a lot of porn?”
“Nope. But you can keep teasing me about it. I don’t mind.”
“Now I’m curious, what do you do with your free time?”
“Oh, I read or I play around on the computer. I’ve been testing out some video editing software. If I can get a handle on it, it might open up a new service at the shop. Sometimes I get together with friends.”
“And yet whenever I ask you out for drinks you have no plans.”
“I didn’t say how often that sometimes was.”
“Fair enough. How’s this one?”
“Sure, I haven’t seen it yet.” They got set up on the couch enjoying their dinner and the movie in relative silence, talking only to comment on an actor or a scene.
Partway through the movie, Jules got up, taking the empty plates to the kitchen and coming back with the wine bottle.
They were both laughing as the movie ended. “Thanks,” he said. “That was a really good movie. I don’t think I would have picked it out on my own.”
“I know, it’s one of my favorites. I laugh so hard every time I watch it.”
“We should do this more often,” he said.
“I would like that.” She leaned over, setting her glass on the low table, and kissed his cheek. When he turned to smile at her, she kissed him on the lips, her fingers brushing his jaw and chin.
Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2) Page 40