Page 8

EIGHT

Wyatt

Shit.

Her body goes limp, my arms tightening around her as she sags against my chest. What the hell happened? Was it something I said?

I mean, I did ask her to make lunch reservations for me, but I’ve never had that push one of our legal secretaries over the edge.

Sure, we’ve had some of our past employees randomly burst into tears, several tell us we’re monsters, that we can fuck ourselves with sandpaper gloves. I’ve even had one chuck a stapler at my head. But never this.

I glance between Brantley and Maverick, my eyes wide, my blood pressure up, and they look as confused as I feel. At least she’s still—I pause and make sure I feel her chest rising and falling, and yes, we’re good, still breathing. Thank God. She’d be screwed if one of us had to try and perform basic medical care. Brant and I almost flunked biology, and Maverick was too busy studying female anatomy on his own to attend class.

“Did she faint?” Brantley gestures to…Katie? Kelly? Carrie? And back to Maverick. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He closes the distance between us, giving her shoulder a slight shake. “Should we lie her down or?—”

She groans and all of us freeze, well, except Brantley. He takes a step back like she’s going to spew all over him. Oh, God, I hope she doesn’t vomit.

Kristy turns her head toward me, and I cringe, waiting for the puke. But instead of showering me in her breakfast, one of her hands lands on my abdomen. It dips down for just a moment and I don’t dare move, not when my fucking dick is inches away from her fingers. I’m not going to be the guy getting sued because she comes to with a cock in her hand.

Thankfully she changes course, her wandering digits traveling up my abs to my chest, and it takes all the energy I can muster not to moan out loud like some sex- starved miscreant. Nope, this was a mistake. I should have let her fall face-first on the hardwood floor. Why does her hand feel so damn good? And why do I want it under my shirt and not simply under my jacket?

Fucking Maverick. He had a feeling about this one.

Of course, he did. That makes two of us, but mine is located solely in my pants.

There’s no way she’s coming with me to this meeting now. Fuck, there’s no way I can work with her day after day. Not when I know what it feels like with her hands all over me. I won’t be able to get a thing done.

“What happened?” she grumbles, clutching my shirt in her fist.

I’m not sure what I should be doing, but it’s definitely not inhaling her addicting strawberry scent. God, why does she smell so good ?

Instead of pulling away or dropping her like I need to, to keep my sanity, I fasten one arm around her and end up awkwardly patting her back with my free hand. “Are you okay?”

The contented sigh slipping past her lips isn’t what I’m expecting, neither is the urge running through me to see what other sounds I can force out of that mouth of hers. Goddamn. She literally fainted, and I can’t seem to pull myself out of the gutter.

Ten minutes in this girl’s orbit and I’m already a walking HR violation.

She stands up straighter but doesn’t let go of me, not right away. Her gaze meets mine, the ocean blue of her eyes pinning me in place, and for a moment it feels like it’s just the two of us. I could get lost in those eyes, and damn if I almost don’t fall into her trap, but then she turns away from me, studying my brother.

“You guys aren’t entirely the same.”

I’m not sure what she means by that, but before I can ask for clarification, a throat clears behind me.

My hands drop from her and I jump back, running them through my hair and trying really hard to look like I wasn’t interrupted while groping my new secretary in front of my brother and best friend. The two of them also take a large step back, and if that doesn’t scream guilt, I don’t know what does. Guilty of what, who knows, but perception is everything.

“Mr. Ellis.” James, the receptionist for this floor, eyes the four of us, his voice full of disappointment. Well, I have news for him—I’m disappointed in me too. “Mr. Holden is waiting for you in conference room one. And Mr. Ellis, Mrs. Wright is in room three.”

“Thank you.” Brantley’s response is clipped, and the look he gives Maverick and me promises a conversation about this later. Great . He doesn’t spare another glance at our new secretary as he barrels past her and practically flees to the other side of the building. He can pretend all he wants, but I know my brother, and he wasn’t completely unaffected by whatever the fuck just happened here.

Maverick shrugs, slips his hands in his pockets, and heads back into his office, leaving me alone with Sleeping Beauty.

“Are you okay?” My voice is thick, gravely, and I really need to pull myself together. Not only is this an employee, but by the looks of her, she can’t be more than twenty-five. And by the swan dive she took in the hallway, obviously she has some shit going on. Maybe she’s pregnant. Or maybe I’ve crossed enough lines and don’t need to be speculating on my secretary’s womb.

She blinks a few times and nods. “I’m sorry; that was very unprofessional of me.”

“It was.” It’s right there on the tip of my tongue…I’m so close to asking her what’s going on, but it’s none of my business. If she has panic attacks, low blood sugar, or you know, the other thing—that’s on her to manage on her own time. “If you can no longer perform your duties, I can contact Mrs. Monroe for a replacement.”

The flash of panic crossing her face makes me feel like a dick, but it’s better this way. For the both of us.

“No, I’m good.” She runs into her office, presumably grabbing her laptop, and I take off down the hall. She’ll either catch up or give me a reason to send her back to the nineteenth floor.

She can be their problem, not mine.