Page 27

chapter eighteen

Graham

I sat on the edge of my desk with my hands stuffed in my pockets, staring at Jillian up on the screen with City Hall behind her.

“I’m signing off for now, folks, but thanks for watching Channel Fourteen News!

We’ll keep you updated as more tornado recovery efforts roll out,” she said, her tone casual but confident as she ran one hand through her hair.

She’d been working against the breeze the entire time to keep her hair out of her eyes.

“Reporting live from City Hall, this has been Jillian Taylor with WWTV.”

The screen cut to commercial, and I reached for the remote to mute it, not wanting to hear what some loudmouth local car salesman had to say. I watched him erratically flail his arms between two Jeeps, though my mind was still stuck on Jill and the way she raked her hair with her fingers.

It drove me mad.

When I closed my eyes, I could remember the taste of her. The feel of her. I lay awake the night before replaying what happened between us, and I wouldn’t have believed it really happened if she hadn’t left her book at my house.

The way she moaned my name was very real. It still echoed in my head that Monday morning.

I was losing my fucking mind over that woman.

I’d wanted to call her. Her personal cell phone number was right there in the employee directory. I’d practically memorized it by now, having stared at it for so long. But God, calling or texting her would be stalkerish, sociopathic behavior, wouldn’t it?

Kind of like spending an hour searching for her on social media, only to discover she locked that shit down like Fort Knox. And who could blame her? There were weirdos out there.

Distracting myself by going for a walk through the halls seemed like it might be a good idea.

The old school building felt emptier now that we were no longer housing displaced Grissom Elementary students.

Some proof that kids recently occupied this building remained—a sticker peeling off the wall here, a forgotten lunchbox on a hook there.

It somehow made these empty hallways feel even lonelier.

I was nearing the WWTV studio when the front door of the building swung open, and Noah Sherman stepped inside with that usual, smug half-smile of his.

I wasn’t sure what he had to smile about.

Now that his buddy wasn’t running this place, we were under no obligation to paint him in a positive light.

Whatever positive coverage Silas promised him before he resigned was lost. Noah was going to have to actually impress his constituents, and I hoped like hell Meghan wouldn’t make that easy for him.

I spoke before he could. “Morning. Here to meet with Meghan?”

He wiped his feet on the entrance rug, holding a sleek, leather briefcase by his side. “That’s right,” he said. “In the conference room.”

“I’ll lead you to it.”

Noah was a local attorney at a law firm founded by his father or maybe his uncle.

I couldn’t remember. Either way, he was one of the “good ol’ boys” in Woodvale who never really had to work for anything.

I would know. We graduated high school together, and even back then, he argued his way out of every single consequence he faced.

I didn’t want to make small talk with him as we made our way through the empty WWTV studio to the conference room, but I didn’t want to appear rude. “How’s the campaign going?”

“Excellent.” Of course it was. I offered a polite nod, pretending to care. “How’s it feel to be in the hot seat now?”

“The hot seat?”

Noah lifted his briefcase to make a broad gesture around the studio.

“Yeah, this is your domain now, isn’t it?

Temporarily, anyway.” He smiled like this was just friendly conversation, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.

“You’re the one under the microscope now.

I’d be worried, after what they did to the last guy in your position. ”

“I’m not worried,” I said without hesitation. “Especially since I’m not stealing from the company or accepting bribes from my golf buddies.”

His smirk widened, like I’d just given him the perfect opening to say what he really wanted. “It’s a good thing you’re squeaky clean, then. Because I’m sure there are people just waiting to pounce if there’s even a speck of dirt. Gotta be careful.”

We’d just about reached the conference room where Meghan was already seated, jotting something down in a notebook.

I stopped just outside the door and turned to Noah, who shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other so he could shake mine.

“If there’s dirt to be found on anyone,” I said, gripping his hand firmly, “the woman in there is the one who’ll dig it up. Good luck.”

I walked away without giving him another look, having said all of that as if I hadn’t spent the weekend in bed with the morning news anchor.

Just then, Jillian stepped into the news studio followed by Olivia, both of them looking like they were on the brink of heat exhaustion.

They moved slowly, red-faced and panting.

Olivia was pulling her hair up into a clip, but my eyes were drawn to Jill’s legs stemming from her pink dress.

It was hard not to think about those legs wrapping around my waist when we—

“Dad?” Olivia said, fanning her face. “You’ve got to get the air conditioning in the news van fixed.”

I laughed, exchanging a quick grin with Jill before turning to my daughter. “I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about that.”

“I think she means it’s your responsibility to find someone who does,” Jill said, throwing a wink in my direction. The three of us stood at the center of the studio, with the news crew making their way around us to unpack their equipment. Marco gave me a polite nod as he passed.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “How’d it go at City Hall?”

Jill and Olivia exchanged looks like they had a secret, but Jill answered, “Couldn’t have gone better.

Olivia’s a huge help.” She bent one leg at the knee to slip off her heels, wobbling a little as she did.

On instinct, I offered her my arm, and she accepted it to steady herself.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up at my face.

Our eyes met for a second too long, and I wondered if we were both thinking about Friday night.

Olivia let out a melodramatic sigh, fanning herself again. “I’m thirsty. And starving.”

“How does a Caesar salad from Moretti’s sound?” I asked, and she tilted her head in interest. “That’s what I thought. I’ll order it in a few. Eat with me in my office?”

On Friday, she’d spent the entirety of her break with me. The most shocking part was that it was her idea. Olivia nodded, and it sort of felt like winning the lottery twice in a row.

Jill clutched her heels to her chest and looked over at Olivia. “They have the best salads in town, don’t they? Those house-made croutons…”

Before Olivia could speak up and agree, I cleared my throat. “I can order you one, too.”

“No, no,” Jill said, lifting a hand in a casual wave. “I brought my lunch today. But thank you.”

Olivia announced she needed to use the bathroom, hollering over her shoulder for me to hurry up and order the food on her way out. I watched her go before turning back to Jill, who was smiling up at me with a familiar glint in her eye.

She had no idea how much that I know what we’re both thinking about right now look killed me.

It nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs.

I wanted to flirt with her, to say something that would leave her equally breathless, but the studio was buzzing with people all around us.

And with Noah’s ominous threat fresh on my mind, I swallowed back everything I wanted to say.

Jill moved in closer, stealing a quick glance at the camera crew before leaning close to my ear. “Stop looking at me like you’ve seen me naked, Graham.”

Jill pulled back with a mischievous smile, raking her fingers through her hair as she turned to walk away. She tossed one last glance over her shoulder, still smirking like the tease she was, before disappearing around the corner toward her cubicle.

And somehow, I just knew that extra swing in her hips was for me.

***

I watched in amusement as Olivia scooted her leather chair backwards without standing up, pushing her feet against the floor until the seat was flush against the wall.

Eight feet away from my desk.

All because I had the audacity to eat “stinky shrimp” in front of her.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” I said, shaking my head as I twirled some of my fettuccine around my fork. “I’ve seen you eat seafood before.”

Balancing a Styrofoam container on her lap, she shook her head and tore open a packet of Caesar dressing. “Just because I like to eat it doesn’t mean I like to smell it.”

I chuckled. There was a minute or two of quiet while we both dug into our food, but then Olivia spoke again.

“So,” she said, licking some dressing off her thumb. “What’s the deal with Jill and Xander?”

My fork froze midair. “What do you mean?”

“I know they broke up recently, but they were a little flirty today,” she said, stabbing at her salad without looking up. “They seem like they make a good couple. The star news anchor and star newspaper reporter? It’s kind of perfect.”

I put down my fork and took a long sip of my drink, trying to appear casual. My stomach twisted into a knot, but I tried to sound calm when I said, “Well, for starters, Xander is not the star reporter. If anything, that’s Meghan.”

“Okay, whatever. I just wonder what happened between them.” She took a sip of her lemonade. “I’ll probably just ask Jill. She’s kind of an open book.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice cracking as I picked up my fork to stir my pasta again. My mind was filled with so many questions, I didn’t even know which one to ask first—or which one would be the least inappropriate. “So they were… flirting? What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m not saying you need to call HR on them or anything. It’s not like that. They just spoke in private for a little bit.”

“Ah.” I managed to force down a bite of shrimp, even though my meal didn’t seem very appetizing anymore. Olivia changed the subject, ranting about Caleb leaving their shared bathroom a mess that morning, but I had trouble focusing.

Olivia ate quickly, saying she had promised Richie she’d call him on her break.

She tossed her half-eaten salad in the trash, returned her chair to its original spot, and flew out of my office with a quick goodbye.

I sat there in silence, folding my hands with my elbows on the desk, replaying every moment of my night with Jill in my head.

How she laughed. How she listened to me ramble about my kids. How she opened up to me about her childhood in Tennessee.

How she whimpered my name.

I needed to get a fucking grip. As much as I wanted this connection with Jill to mean something, it didn’t. And it couldn’t. Because if I was really under a microscope like Noah said, the worst thing I could do was drag Jill into focus right along with me.