I Can Explain

by Missy Johnson

  Table of Contents

  I Can Explain

  Missy Johnson

  ADVANCED READER COPY

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  I Can Explain

  Missy Johnson

  ADVANCED READER COPY

  PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOFED AND WILL CONTAIN SPELLING, GRAMMAR AND TIMELINE ERRORS THAT WILL BE FIXED PRIOR TO PUBLISHING

  Chapter One

  Alana

  “Alana.” Jade frowns, her skin almost cracking under the layers of makeup she has carefully piled onto her face. Two guesses who she’s trying to impress. I chuckle to myself. “Are you listening to me?”

  I snap back to attention and nod, still trying to hold back my smirk.

  “Coffee. Dry cleaning. Take contracts over to Peterson Walker,” I say, hoping I’ve gotten today’s list right. It was the same as yesterday and the day before, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe.

  “Right, well, just don’t stuff it up this time, okay?” Jade sighs.

  I bite my tongue before I say something that will probably end up getting me fired. You forget the sugar in the guy’s coffee one time, and you suddenly have a reputation. Sure, that guy just happens to be Chase Winston, my arrogant, rude, adorably beautiful, attractive asshole of a boss, but still, it’s not like I’m incapable of doing my job. Let’s face it, half the things I’m asked to do, a monkey could do.

  There was only one thing worse than being Chase Winston’s personal assistant, and that’s being one of the junior assistants who answers to his personal assistant. I’m simply here to make things easier for Jade and trust me when I say she takes full advantage of it. Well, I’m guessing it’s worse because I’ve never had the pleasure of being his personal assistant. The guy never even acknowledges me.

  I narrow my eyes at Peyton, who is hunched over her computer, trying not to laugh. I’m pretty sure watching me get my ass handed to me time and time again is the only thing keeping her working here. The second Jade leaves the office, I let loose with a string of obscenities under my breath.

  “One time,” I mumble, shaking my head. “I got it right yesterday, didn’t I?”

  “You’ve been working here how long?” Peyton giggles, her dark eyes sparkling with glee. I swear she lives for this shit. “You must’ve gotten that man a few hundred coffees. How on earth did you forget something like that?”

  I blush. I know exactly how I forgot. I blame the sexy barista for making flirty eyes with me as the line slowly dwindled down until it was just him and me, standing at the counter, facing each other. I gently batted my eyelashes at him and gave him the sexiest smile I could muster, which was met with…nothing but a blank stare. So what if it turned out he was making flirty eyes with the dude behind me? I think my defense still stands.

  “Never mind,” I growl, rolling my eyes. “I better go do this before he pops an artery or something.”

  I fumble around on my desk for my purse and my keys, but all I can think about is how much I dislike my job. The only thing that makes it worthwhile is Peyton. Without her here to make the days bearable, I’d have left a long time ago. Well, that’s not true. Peyton or not, I’d have stuck this out for as long as there was the tiniest hope of moving up into something more challenging.

  I’ve been working at Winston Property Consultants (WPC) for nearly two years while I finished off my master’s in statistics and business, which I’d finally graduated from two months ago. At twenty-four, and after nearly six years of school, all I have to show for it is this—a job that I’m way too overqualified for and hate more than life itself.

  Why did I choose here? Because Chase Winston is the best, and I wanted to learn from the best. To put it simply, he merges struggling companies with stronger ones. He’s kind of like the dating guru for businesses. I thought all I had to do was get my foot in the door and eventually, he’d notice my potential. Only now, I was beginning to wonder if it was worth the risk of not learning anything at all. I’m so hung up on working here that I could be harming any chance I have of doing anything within my chosen field. The longer I leave it, the harder it’s going to be to explain why I stayed in this role for so long.

  Right now, fresh out of college? I could easily find an entry level job with a dozen other companies that would advance me further than my current position ever would, but all of those firms were missing the one thing I wanted.

  Chase. God, what can I say about Chase?

  He’s everything. Not only is he a self-made millionaire, but he’s also hot, intimidating, sexy, smart, and a thousand other things that run through my head daily. My mind faces an ongoing struggle of hating him one minute and wanting to confess my love to him the next. I’ve never met anyone who can inspire and irritate me at the same time like Chase Winston can. And that’s pretty impressive, considering I’m not even sure if he knows my name.

  “Seriously, did you see the way she looked at me when she told me not to stuff it up?” I huff, stalking back over to Peyton. “Like, God forbid I put two sugars in his damn coffee instead of one. Hey, maybe I should slip some laxatives in there?” I say with an evil grin. “I mean, he walks around like he’s got something lodged up his ass, maybe all he needs is a good, old-fashioned cleanout.”

  “Lanna—”

  “No. I don’t care how ridiculously sexy he is or how dreamy those blue eyes are to stare into,” I say, cutting her off.

  I was on a roll, and Peyton wasn’t going to stop me. I have two years’ worth of frustration to vent, and it’s all coming out now, one way or another.

  “He’s an asshole to everyone here but Jade, and I bet that’s only because she’s sucking his cock. Not that I wouldn’t go there if he asked me to—”

  “Lanna,” Peyton hisses, her eyes wide.

  “Oh, come on, like you wouldn’t suck his cock too,” I retort, nodding knowingly at her. “Hey, maybe we could tag team him.”

  We’d had a lengthy discussion about this a few weeks ago over a bottle of tequila, so I knew exactly what she wanted to do with that ten inches of pure stiff muscle. And I thought I was the dirty one. I chuckle to myself and turn around. My heart skips a beat when I spot Chase leaning against Jade’s desk. He smirks at me and casually lifts one eyebrow.

  Oh, god no.

  My heart pounds as I wait for him to react. This can’t be happening. I cannot believe I just said that. Well, I can believe it, because I say shit like that every day, but not when he’s standing right behind me. I glare at Peyton, who releases a snort and then flushes, bowing her head. Chase’s eyes don’t leave me as I glance around the room, praying for an escape, but there isn’t one.

  It’s like a scene from a really bad movie. With any luck, he’ll drag me outside and throw me on the back of his bike and take me somewhere to have his way with me. Or his office will do just fine.

  “Is Jade here?” he asks, directing his question at me, his smooth, deep voice making me shiver.

  I shake my head, incapable of speaking. I think it’s worse that he’s ignoring the obvious issue of my outburst. I’d almost prefer for him to say something about it. Anything. Almost... He nods, and then walks over to the door, stopping just as he reaches it. I brace myself as he turns his attenti
on back to me.

  “Alana?” he asks.

  I force myself to meet his steel blue eyes, wishing he didn’t find this so damn amusing.

  “Yes?” I whisper, feeling sick. God, I am so embarrassed.

  “While I appreciate your attentiveness to my health, I can assure you that everything is functioning just as it should. Maybe you should focus more on your job and less on things that don’t concern you?” he asks lightly. “Like who is and isn’t sucking my cock.”

  He walks out, briskly closing the door behind him.

  I stumble over to my desk and slump down onto my chair, my eyes wide. I breathe out, feeling dazed. My heart’s racing and I’m feeling a mixture of extreme nausea and embarrassment over the whole situation. Every time I think about what I just said, more or less to his face, I want to throw up.

  Peyton rushes over to me, both panicked and trying not to laugh, which under any other circumstance would be a funny combination. I glare at her, which sets her off.

  “I’m so sorry,” she giggles, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, but that just made my fucking day.”

  “I’m glad I can be a source of amusement for you,” I grumble, my tone sour.

  “At least he knows your name now.” she offers, her eyes twinkling.

  I scowl at her. I think I preferred it when he didn’t.

  “I guess I really better go and do his stupid little list,” I mutter.

  I force myself to stand up, not sure whether to laugh or cry. It’s already been the day from hell, and now I still have to go and complete his list? I should be glad to be escaping the office for a few hours because I’m already dreading the next time I have to face him.

  Hopefully, I can manage to avoid him from now on.

  Chapter Two

  Alana

  I thought distracting myself would be easy, but putting what just happened out of my head is proving to be harder than I thought. No matter how many times I force myself to think about something else, my mind always inevitably creeps back to that moment, and I relive the horror again.

  I can't believe he was standing there that whole time and heard everything.

  Driving the company car, I head toward the laundromat, sighing as I’m forced to slow to a stop in gridlocked traffic. It’s always like this, which is one of the reasons I hate driving around here. I love inner city Boston most of the time, but having to go all the way over to the other side of town every few days to pick up his dry-cleaning was enough to send my nerves into a frenzy. Never mind the half a dozen dry-cleaners that are miles closer to the office. Some were even within walking distance. Hell, some even delivered to our office complex. That didn’t matter because Chase has a boner for this place. Probably because he didn't like the starch the other places used.

  I finally make it through the traffic and find a parking spot right out in the front of Grind, one of the few places where Chase accepted coffee from. Yes, I had a list of approved places to get his beverages from. You don’t want to know what happens when I stray from that list. I detour inside and order his double shot latte, being extra careful to include his sugar, then I walk over the road to where the dry-cleaner is located.

  Walking inside, I hand my ticket to the man behind the counter. He gives me a funny look and then disappears at the back while mumbling something under his breath. Okay. That was strange. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I get the feeling it’s not going to be good. I glance outside and frown. The longer this takes, the more traffic I’m going to hit on the way back, and the last thing I want is to give Chase any more reason to be annoyed at me.

  I look back at the counter, relieved the attendant has returned with the owner in tow. Tony smiles at me, but he won’t meet my eyes. I wait for him to tell me what the problem is. Knowing my luck, his shirts are probably pink.

  “I’m sorry, Alana,” Tony mumbles. “I don't know how to say this, but we're having trouble locating your order.”

  “Excuse me?” I say, my eyes widening. No doubt this will be my fault too. “How?”

  Tony glances at the other guy. I come in here a lot, and I’ve never seen him before.

  “Marcus only started this week.” Well, that explains that. “He’s still getting used to our regular clients, but he’s pretty sure someone came in earlier today to collect it,” Tony explains. He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry about this. Can you give us half an hour to fix this? Do you have something else you can do and then come back?”

  What the hell was I going to do around here for half an hour, other than panic about losing my job? Look for another one? Chase is going to kill me for this. Work will be over by the time I get back. Okay, so that part didn’t sound so bad, but still, I’m in enough trouble over what happened earlier. I glance down at the coffee in my hand and groan. I can already feel it going cold. I don't really have a choice other than to agree because going back without his dry-cleaning just isn’t an option.

  “Fine,” I sigh. I scribble down my phone number and slide it across the counter. “Please call me and not Mr. Winston the moment you locate it,” I say sternly. He will freak if he finds out about this.

  Tony nods. “Of course. Again, I'm so sorry about this, Alana.”

  I smile tightly and then walk outside. I glance around, still not sure what to do to fill in the time. Then I wander across the road to the park and sit down under a large oak tree.

  “Fuck,” I growl, blinking back tears.

  I swirl the coffee around in the cup and frown as it’s delicious aroma engulfs me. My mouth waters as I stare at his precious coffee. What the hell. It’s going to be cold, anyway. I may as well drink it and get him a fresh one on the way back, because going in there two hours late with no dry cleaning and a cold coffee would definitely get me fired. I set the empty cup down on the grass and wrap my arms around my chest, the breeze cooler than I was expecting.

  I'm so upset with everything. I know I don't help the situation with scenarios like this morning, but I feel like I'm underappreciated and underutilized, and it’s driving me insane. Sending me out to collect dry cleaning and get coffee when I’m qualified for so much more is so frustrating. Surely, there were better things I could be doing with my time. I didn't spend six years at college to do this, did I? Why am I even here? He’s never going to give me a chance. Even more so now.

  Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I am better off forgetting about Chase and making my mark somewhere else…

  As if on cue, my phone vibrates loudly in my pocket. I pull it out, praying that it's Tony with good news and not Jade, wondering where the hell I am. It’s neither, but I grin when I see Dad’s name. I quickly answer it, eager to hear his voice.

  “Hey,” I say.

  "How's my little girl?" Dad asks, his voice warm. I smile in spite of myself. Even though I'm not having a great day, talking to him always cheers me up.

  "I’m okay," I say, trying to sound upbeat. Like always, he sees right through me.

  "Are you sure about that?" Dad asks. "Because you sure as hell don't sound okay. Is it work again?"

  I hesitate, not wanting to drag his mood down with mine.

  "It's fine. I'm just having a rough day," I insist. "How are you?" I ask, changing the subject.

  “Same as always. Doing too much, getting too old. You know how it is. Or, at least you will in about fifty years,” he jokes, releasing one of his trademark, throaty laughs.

  “Maybe you should retire, then?” I fire back at him.

  It’s a conversation we have every week, and he always promises that this year is going to be his last year of work. It never is, of course. I think part of him is afraid to give it up because it’s such a huge part of his life. He’s the kind of guy who always needs to be doing something, and if not work, then what? He’s definitely not the lawn bowls or drinking at the club kind of guy, and it’s not like he has a partner to occupy his time.

  “Next year,” he promises. I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see
me. “And I didn’t call to talk about me. I called to check up on my girl. Work still a problem, I take it? Want me to come into your office and have a word with this Chase joker? I’ll teach him a thing or two about how to treat people.”

  “God no,” I mutter, wincing. That would be brutal. “Trust me. I’m fine. And it’s Thursday already, which means it’s practically the weekend,” I add.

  “Okay, if you say so… Can we catch up soon, then?” he asks. “So I can see for myself? And there’s something I want to talk to you about, too.”

  “Sure,” I say, with a frown. I don’t like the way that sounds. Nothing good ever follows the words ‘We need to talk.’ “How’s Sunday for you?” I ask.

  “Sunday sounds good. Text me the details,” he says, making me giggle. As if he can even open a text. “I’ll let you get back to it. Love you, Lanni. Don’t work too hard. And tell that boss of yours to shove off.”

  “I love you too,” I say with a smile.

  I hang up and settle back against the tree, taking the opportunity to close my eyes and just relax for a minute. I feel bad for not speaking to Dad more often, especially considering how close we are and the fact that we only have each other.

  My mother died when I was only two. I don't remember much about her, other than what Dad told me. You get to the point where you’re not sure what memories are real and what is just the result of him talking about her so often. If there was one thing he made sure of, it’s that she wasn’t forgotten. Even as a little girl, I could see how much he loved her. That love, imprinted in my mind, is a lot for any guy to live up to. Maybe that’s why I struggle so much with relationships. Or maybe it’s just because I pick assholes.

  There were never any other women in the picture when it came to Dad. I don't know if that's because he never really moved on from Mom or because he didn't want me to have to deal with feeling like someone was taking her place. Still, I hate the idea of him being alone, especially since I’m moving on with my life and doing my own thing. If he just met someone, then I wouldn’t have to worry about him so much. But, he’s stubborn and set in his ways and no doubt impossible for any woman to live with. A few months ago, Peyton and I tried to set him up on a dating site for seniors. It didn't end well, partly because he’s just so technologically challenged. He can barely manage to change the channel on a remote, let alone logging into a computer to check and reply to emails.