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I force myself to slap on a smile. Opening the car door, I throw my tote into the front passenger seat, and join Charlie and Claire in belting out the chorus of Tate’s “run for the hills.”
I should’ve listened to the song lyrics more closely and took her advice.
In the case of Nathan Hatcher, I should’ve run for the hills the very first moment he first looked in my direction.
23
Nathan
On Monday, I texted Spencer asking if she’d like a coffee from the local spot, and if so, what kind? She ignored me. I bought her one anyway and left it on the edge of her desk. By lunchtime, I couldn’t resist the urge to check. Lifting the coffee up, it was clear not a drop was consumed. She sent me a curt email informing me that Dawn needed her assistance on a project and she’d be away from her desk for most of the day.
I wanted to put my dick on the table and tell her she’d need my approval before she loaned herself to another employee, but something told me to stop digging my own grave. So I let that one go.
Tuesday rolled around and I was determined to break the ice. I even looked up dad jokes, for fuck’s sake. I used: What do sprinters eat before they race?Nothing. They fast.She stared at me like I’d sprouted rainbow-colored horns. I know for a fact the not-pissed-at-me Spencer would’ve found that cute at least. When the joke didn’t work, out of desperation, I texted her that I left my belt at her place and needed it back. I prepared myself that when I got her alone in my office, I was going to shut thedoor and tell her the truth. I’m just not ready for a relationship, and I’m very sorry I led her on.
A part of me feels like I should mention how much I still want her, and how my cock hates me because I want to strip her down and bend her over any surface she’d let me. I’m worried she thinks this has anything to do with her. It’s me. It’s all my ghosts.
But the excuse didn’t matter. I walked into work on Wednesday to my belt, in a neat coil, already placed in a small, white box.
By Thursday, I’m determined. I strut into work this morning ready to pull rank.Like it or not, Spencer. I sign your paychecks, so when I think we need to talk, we’re going to talk. End of story.
The first thing I notice is that Spencer’s wearing something odd. Normally she’s all business skirts, dresses, and slacks. Spencer always dresses like she’s about to enter a courtroom. But today, her thick hair is pulled back into a sporty ponytail, and she has on…overalls?
They are black overalls with silver button hooks.What in the world?It’s only when I’m about a yard away from her desk that I notice the enlarged rat that pops its head out of her pocket. And suddenly the overalls make sense. She’s using the giant chest pocket to kangaroo-mommy thatthing.
“Spencer,” I say as I near her. “It has to go. I told you I don’t want rodents here.”
She swivels around slowly, stroking Spike’s head with one finger, looking like a Disney villain. “Funny thing. Did you know guinea pigs can be registered as emotional support animals and are permissible in the workplace as long as you have HR approval?” She taps a tri-folded piece of paper next to her. “This is a letter from HR recognizing Spikey here as my new desk buddy.”
“Are you trying to get a reaction out of me? Look, we need to talk.”
“Spike isn’t here for you, he’s here for me,” she argues.
“Really?” I roll my eyes. “And what does he support?”
“Mostly my anxiety, which is stemming from one main source,” she says, narrowing her lids.
“Point taken. And you’re right. I owe you an explanation. Step into my office and let’s talk privately. Now.”
“Fine,” she grumbles as she rises.
“Leave that thing.”
She taps her paper again. “Take it up with HR, boss. Where I go, he goes. So, I’d choose your meetings sparingly if Spike terrifies you so much.”
Great. We’re back to her calling me boss which is pseudo-respectful because I know when she verbally saysboss, she’s mentally sayingass.
I watch the guinea pig’s fidgety nose twitch back and forth, debating if I can learn to live with this. But I can’t stomach it. I resist the urge to shudder. “Not terrified, I just don’t like them. Spencer, seriously. Enough. This isn’t the way to get back at me.”
“I’m not getting back at you, Nathan. I’m not anything with you except just…done.” She sits back down and reopens her laptop. “Would you excuse me? I have a lot of work to do.”
I bite back my irritation at her stubbornness and try to keep my tone warm. “How are the office remodel plans coming?”
“Fine,” she answers without looking at me.
“So, it’ll be done by the time my project partner shows up next week?”
“Yes. Furniture will be delivered this weekend. The designer asked that you please leave your office unlocked.”