by Kelsie Rae
“Last question, Bethany. Why would you try to sabotage my company after everything you’ve already put me through?”
Bethany’s armor disappears as soon as the words leave my lips, giving me a glimpse of the girl I dated and loved in college. I haven’t seen this side of her in so long, I had almost convinced myself she never truly existed.
“Honestly?” She stares down at the marble flooring, refusing to look at me. “You look at her the way you used to look at me.” Her words are nothing but a whisper, and I find myself leaning closer to make sure I hear her correctly. “I was jealous that you moved on. That you found something real, when I threw away the only genuine relationship I’ve ever had just to make a quick buck.”
She finally gains the courage to peek up at me, letting me see the pain and regret she feels with how things ended between us. After giving me such a brief glimpse of vulnerability, Bethany quickly slides her armor back in place, and the bitch is back in full force.
“It was nice seeing you Derrick. Let me know when things crash and burn between you and Bree. I’d love to give it another go.” She winks at me before grabbing my ass and sauntering away without a care in the world.
That woman is insane.
After my enlightening conversation with Bethany, I text Jude to meet me in my room where we strategize on how to win Bree back. Obviously, I screwed up big time, but I hope she can cut me a little slack and give me a second chance. I just need to figure out how to bring her back.
Jude is the best friend a guy could ever ask for. He immediately contacts Ben and the other guys, asking them to cover for us. As soon as they agree, he packs his bags and orders me to do the same before jumping behind the wheel of his SUV and driving home like a bat out of hell.
We talk during the entire six hour drive, trying to work out the perfect plan. We go through scenario after scenario, none of which seem big enough, or bold enough, for a girl like Breezy.
The girl is a freaking hurricane, and she deserves a tsunami to win her over.
27
Bree
I spend my Sunday evening crying and stuffing my face with nachos from Tumblers.
How’s that for irony?
I call Kathy and let her know everything that happened, assuming she’ll let me off the hook with the whole two weeks notice thing, but the lady doesn’t budge. She insists I come to work on Monday while promising I won’t have to interact with Derrick even once, or I’m allowed to walk out immediately. She even promises to write me a stellar recommendation, and I know I’ll be needing it.
I begrudgingly agree to her terms and head into work bright and early on Monday morning.
The day is spent shuffling paperwork, creating appointments, and setting up a new accounting system update. It’s pretty menial work which gives me plenty of time to think about He Who Must Not Be Named.
Tuesday is much of the same, with the exception of a mysterious street taco that miraculously appears on my desk. A lump forms in my throat while I’m eyeing the corn tortilla and wondering if this is his attempt at making amends.
The damn thing sits on my desk for the entire afternoon. I refuse to throw it away, but I can’t seem to eat the taco either. Instead, I spend my time staring at it, debating any and all possible meanings behind the gesture.
Wednesday goes by in a blur, and Thursday is about the same with the exception of Jude coming to visit my tiny desk.
“Why hello, love. Fancy a giraffe?”
I look at him quizzically. “What’s a giraffe?”
Jude chuckles. “A laugh, love. A giraffe is a laugh.” His smile stretches across his handsome face as he considers the words he just spoke to me.
“A laugh is a giraffe? And what should I fancy?” I giggle, trying to clarify his completely random remark.
“Nevermind, love. The moment has passed.” He winks at me from behind his black frames. “So, I’ve decided we need to celebrate tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you at the elevator at precisely 6 o’clock, and we can drive together.”
I shake my head back and forth trying to understand what he’s talking about. Again. “I’m sorry, what are we celebrating? And where are we going tomorrow night?”
His grin spreads. “Oi, perfect. You’ve agreed! We’re going to sing karaoke tomorrow night in celebration of the expansion of our company! Did you not hear? Mr. Rockford, along with a few smaller investors, have given us loads of money! You’re about to get very busy recruiting some coders, love. Hope you’re ready for it!”
I had heard about the investors and the expansion. I’m really happy for He Who Must Not Be Named, but that doesn’t mean I want to see the guy. He broke my heart. It’s a miracle I can even make it in to work most days!
“Sorry, Jude. I can’t make it. You know what went down with him, and it doesn’t matter anyway. I only have one more week left here.” Tears prick my eyes at the mere mention of him. There’s no way in hell I’d survive a karaoke night in his presence. Even with the promise of alcohol, it would be impossible.
Swallowing thickly, I wait for Jude to let me off the hook. Instead, the bugger only tsks like he would to a misbehaving toddler. “Dear sweet, innocent, Bree. Do you know nothing at all? I would never let Derrick near you again without a huge amount of proper groveling on his part. You have nothing to worry about. I promise.” He smiles mischievously, as my heart skips a beat. I’m wondering if He Who Must Not Be Named is planning on groveling, or if Jude has no intention of inviting him in the first place since he’s not planning on groveling.
Instead of answering, I simply nod once at the man who is quickly turning in to one of my best friends.
And with that, Jude walks away without a care in the world, while I try to comprehend what the hell I just agreed to.
Friday is a whirlwind of chaos. The printer busted, and Garrett called in sick, leaving me to attempt to deal with the situation. Notice how I used the word attempt?
It’s absolute insanity.
After calling the repair guy, again, who promises to have the situation fixed within the hour, I check my watch and notice it’s 5:45 pm. This means I have exactly fifteen minutes to meet Jude at the elevators, and I plan to look absolutely stunning when I do. And it’s not because I want to impress anyone or anything…. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I rush to the bathroom with my giant purse around my shoulder. I had stuffed it with a change of clothes and my makeup bag for some quick touch ups. As soon as I look in the mirror, I’m glad I came prepared.
I have bags under my eyes from lack of sleep and constant crying whenever I’m away from my desk. After applying a heavy dose of concealer, I add some smokey eyeshadow and line my upper lids with a classic black eyeliner. I glance at my appearance and debate my signature red lipstick. It usually inspires confidence whenever I wear it, but it also reminds me of him. The crimson color almost acts like some kind of feminine armor I like to shield myself with whenever I can sense a sticky situation will arise.
And tonight, I can definitely sense a sticky situation.
Honestly, I’m shocked I even agreed to go in the first place. Then I remember what Jude said. I doubt Derrick will go, anyway. He hasn’t tried to contact me this entire week other than the taco. And for all I know, that could’ve been from Jude, trying to console me.
I take one more look in the mirror before sweeping the crimson lipstick against my lower and upper lips, puckering once for good measure.
Armor. On.
Afterwards, I enter the stall and change from my conservative black slacks and purple blouse to my little black dress. It’s the same one I wore in Vegas, and I’m honestly unsure why I chose it in the first place. But it’s too late to back out now, since it’s the only article of clothing I brought with me. I slip into it slowly, letting the ebony material cling to my curves while silently cursing myself for picking this particular dress. It brings back too many memories. Ones I wish I could forget.
Taking a deep br
eath, I glance in the mirror one more time, swing the bathroom door open, and stride to the elevator. I just pray my lipstick armor will help me survive the evening.
The first thing I notice when the elevator comes into view is a lack of a certain someone. The disappointment of him not being there hits me like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of me and causing my steps to falter.
Jude is leaning against the wall near the down button with his hands in his pant pockets, and his ankles crossed casually. He’s staring in my direction as if he was anticipating my arrival at any second. I smile shyly and wave before making my way across the reception area. Jude eyes me up and down once. He assesses my appearance and smiles appreciatively, instantly making me feel more confident in my clothing choice.
“You clean up rather nicely,” he teases.
I shake my head and laugh, the expression feeling almost foreign after the crappy week I’ve had. There’s a lightness to it as well. Like maybe my heart will learn to mend itself, even if it takes a long, long time.
I decide to return the favor, eyeing Jude up and down. “You’re not too bad yourself.” I wink flirtatiously, and Jude grins before wrapping me in a brotherly hug.
“Well, come along then. We’ve got some celebrating to do!”
It’s still pretty early when we arrive at the bar, and I’m not surprised to see the place practically empty with the exception of our fellow co-workers. I guess it makes sense they’re here since this is technically a work celebration.
Jude leads me straight to the bar, ordering me a pina colada and insisting there be a tiny umbrella in the glass. I giggle at his ridiculous request as he orders a Jack and Coke and a whiskey sour. The last drink causes my heart to race, wondering if it is just a coincidence, or if he might be coming.
I’m terrified to ask Jude point blank, but I do it anyway. “Is he coming?”
Jude’s head tilts to the side, assessing my face as his eyes bounce between my own. “Do you want him to?”
I bite my lower lip while shrugging one shoulder. “And if I do?” I whisper quietly.
Jude smiles cautiously, but doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he turns to the stage that’s tucked in the corner of the room. I didn’t really inspect the place when I first walked in, but I take a moment to look around as I wait for my girly drink.
A few beat up tables are scattered around the dance floor, and an old jukebox is pressed against the far wall, with the bar being front and center. I also notice an eclectic collection of vinyl records hangs on the walls, as well as images of old rock stars. The place almost feels homey in a beat-up, rundown kind of way, and I immediately fall in love with it.
“How did you find this place?” I ask Jude, trying to make conversation while being genuinely curious.
He just shrugs before nodding his head toward the stage again. Garrett is front and center with a microphone in his hand while the intro to Rock You Like a Hurricane by The Scorpions bleeds through the old speakers.
Apparently, he’s feeling better.
I laugh sardonically at the irony of his song choice as the bartender places my drink in front of me. I take a long sip from my straw, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat. The server definitely doubled the alcohol in my beverage, and I’m grateful for the warm feeling spreading from my stomach to my limbs. Greedily, I take another sip.
As soon as Garrett finishes a horrible rendition of the classic song, another gentleman stands up and makes his way to the stage. His name is Rudy, but I haven’t really gotten a chance to know him yet. And I guess I never will, since I only have one more week left. That thought is a little disheartening.
After a minute, he’s belting out the lyrics to a song I’ve never heard, titled Hurricane Love by LA Women. I can’t miss the shockingly coincidental words that he sings over and over again about being consumed by a girl and never getting enough.
I glance at Jude, trying to figure out if this really is a total freak accident, or if maybe Rudy chose that song for a reason. Goosebumps immediately break out across my bare arms, and it has nothing to do with the air conditioning. My breathing is shallow, as I wait for another co-worker to sing a song.
Hurricane by Luke Coombs. I recognize this one too, and try to catch my breath as the chorus hits me square in the chest.
Shit, this hurts.
My swirling emotions are hitting me from all sides, begging me to keep them in check until I get home. Instead of making a run from the building and protecting my brittle heart from absolute wreckage, I find myself glued to my seat. My gut clenches as I anxiously anticipate the next song, while dreading it in the same moment.
Derrick might not be here, but he’s definitely still speaking to me. I can practically hear his gruff voice telling me that he wants me. That he misses me.
My gaze is glued on my now-empty beverage while I roll the tiny purple umbrella between my forefinger and thumb rhythmically. I find the motion soothing somehow, enjoying the rough wooden toothpick handle as it rubs against my skin. The feeling is familiar, predictable. Two things I’m currently clinging to like my life depends on it.
Mesmerized by the little umbrella, I’m not paying attention as the next singer takes the stage. The intro to the newest song is unfamiliar, but as the deep voice vibrates through the speakers and echoes straight into my soul, my head snaps up and turns to the stage. I would know that voice anywhere.
I drop the umbrella as I study the man in front of me singing his heart out about loving a girl and knowing everything will be alright as long as she’s by his side. I finally recognize the song as Love is a Hurricane by Boyzone. Derrick’s rich voice puts a whole new spin on the classic love song, causing goosebumps to race across my skin once more. My heart syncs with the base as he drives the words home, bearing his soul for everyone to hear. He uses the familiar lyrics to finally express the feelings he’s kept on lockdown ever since he met me. Letting me know that he can’t eat or sleep without me by his side. That our love is like a whirlwind, a hurricane. That we’re going to be okay as long as we’re together. That he loves me.
My heart soars while I stare at the man on stage claiming my broken soul in front of everyone.
Derrick once told me he doesn’t like to sing in front of others. That he wouldn’t sing for me ever again. That the first time was a fluke. But here he is, singing his heart out and professing his love in front of his entire office. For me.
My eyes glaze with fresh tears while his gritty voice melts over me like warm honey, mending all the jagged cracks in my aching heart, one effortless note at a time.
By the time he finishes singing, the room is so silent you can hear a pin drop. His baby blues are pinning me to the bar stool, and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. He’s afraid I’m going to reject him, and considering how he treated me in Vegas, I probably should.
Someone in the room coughs, relieving the pressure in my chest for a split second while allowing my lungs to fill with some much-needed oxygen.
I break our staring contest only to notice every single one of my co-workers studying me, wondering how I’m going to react to Derrick’s public declaration. I suck my lips into my mouth, biting at the plump flesh while suppressing the tears that threaten to fall.
Derrick cautiously steps off the platform, hesitantly stepping in my direction before his long legs eat up the distance between us.
I take the coward’s way out and turn my back to the stage before focusing on my very predictable purple umbrella on the counter. Acting as if it’s the most fascinating object in the world, instead of the man stalking toward me.
I can feel the heat from his broad chest as he steps up behind me. Ever so slowly, he grasps the base of the bar stool I’m sitting on, spinning it away from the bar top and around to his massive form. I’m still holding the umbrella, gently touching the purple paper while refusing to look up at him. I know that as soon as I do, I’ll break.
From the corner of my eye, I see Derrick pick up
the watered down whiskey sour, gulping it down in one long shot. His calloused finger brushes against my chin, using the slightest pressure to lift my face to his. I swallow thickly, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as my head follows his orders, tilting the exact way he wants it to.
He grasps both sides of my face with his huge hands then sweeps his thumbs against my lower lip. I attempt to swallow past the lump in my throat, but my mouth feels like the Sahara desert. I finally gain the courage to open my tear-filled eyes. I’m immediately greeted with Derrick’s uncertain expression, his warm breath caressing my face.
I have nothing to say to him. Instead, I wait for him to apologize for being an absolute jackass and breaking my heart in the process.
I knew I had a backbone somewhere!
When his silence ensues, I can’t help myself. “Anything you want to say?” I prompt, dropping a not-so-subtle hint that I’m waiting for an apology.
The left side of his face twitches slightly, his dimple almost making an appearance before quickly hiding behind his somber expression.
“I was wrong. So freaking wrong. I let my past affect my perception of you, and I can’t describe how sorry I am. I assumed the worst about you, when you have been nothing but supportive of me and my company. You’ve been nothing but honest,” he pauses, “with the exception of the whole Rylee thing and convincing Jude to fake date you.” He smirks before continuing. “I love you, Hurricane. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove how I will do anything for you. But you’re going to have to be patient with me, Babe. I am seriously screwed up from my previous relationship. With that said, I’m begging you to please give me another chance. You won’t regret it.” He looks passionate, yet bleak, like he almost doesn’t expect me to forgive him for his major screw-up.