Page 10 of If I See You Again

David

B efore I knew it, I was back in Chicago to work on my big project. Malcolm and I had continued to send ideas back and forth via e-mail for a few weeks. It was refreshing to see a different perspective, and while I’d taken a wild leap of faith in hiring him, it was paying off.

Little bolts of lightning shot through my limbs as I sat on the plane. I’d packed up to stay this time, moving my life from North Carolina to Illinois for not only this project, but in hopes of something coming from the spark I’d felt with Malcolm.

While we’d spent time messaging each other over the last couple of months, any time I tried to make it less than professional, he shot me down.

Once we were together in person again, I wouldn’t let that happen.

There was a lot to learn about the nervous, jittery mess who was in charge of my advertising campaign.

Mr. Thomas met me at baggage claim, and a strange sense of disappointment set in that he was the one picking me up.

“How was your flight, Mr. Garrison? I hope you didn’t have any turbulence?”

I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t bad at all. Smooth all the way here.”

We waited for my bags, and he helped me to a car that was waiting outside. I didn’t need such accommodations, but I appreciated the effort, nonetheless. The car drove me to the swanky hotel I’d booked until I could find something a little more permanent.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Garrison?”

I gave Mr. Thomas a tight smile. “I would like to rest, but I think I’d like to have a conversation with Mr. Fisher about when we’ll sit down and get to work.”

He nodded. “I can see to that. Why don’t you go get some rest, and I’ll send him to you this evening?”

A small snort escaped as I tried not to laugh. It sounded like I was hiring an escort. If I had it my way, Malcolm and I would have some fun, but despite my best efforts, the wall he kept between us hadn’t budged an inch.

The room was nice, but it wasn’t a home. I took off my tie and dropped it on the bed before kicking off my shoes. My mind flashed to the last time I’d stayed in a hotel here in Chicago.

I’d never learned about Malcolm’s scar. Would he tell me about it this time?

I busied myself with putting away my things and ordered myself dinner through room service. I had just finished eating my delicious steak and asparagus when someone knocked on my door. My phone didn’t have any messages on it, so I hadn’t been expecting anyone.

Peering through the peephole, I spotted disheveled brown hair and piercing green eyes.

Surely Mr. Thomas had told Malcolm to contact me before sending him here, right?

But, knowing what I did about Malcolm Fisher, he’d been too nervous and had just come.

If he’d called ahead, he would have psyched himself out of it.

I swung the door open wide, and there stood the man I’d wanted to see since I’d left two months ago. Was it possible for him to look any better? I could easily devour him, if he’d let me. He still fidgeted, fingers pulling at the sleeves of his dress shirt as he stood before me.

“Mr. Garrison?”

I laughed. “None of that. It will always be David to you.”

The frown that marred Malcom’s face made my gut twist, and not in a good way. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, frustrated, or annoyed. The last thing I’d wanted to do was make him uncomfortable.

“David…” he sighed, looking up and down the hall before motioning for me to let him in the room. I stepped aside, giving him plenty of space. “I—I get where you’re coming from, but this is my job. I’m trying my best here.”

My fingers itched to reach out and grab him, to pull him to me and make him forget all about being professional, but he had a point. “What I’m trying to say is, there’s no need to be overly formal with me. We’re past that point.”

A faint blush spread across Malcolm’s cheeks as he looked around the room. Was he thinking the same thing I had earlier? Remembering the last time we were together in a hotel?

He cleared his throat as he walked over to the desk where I’d set up my laptop. He said nothing more about just how familiar we’d been as he sat down in front of the screen. I’d left part of the website up, and maybe it was worth seeing what he thought of the whole picture, not just the concept.

“Is this the website?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at me.

I moved closer, resting my hand on the desk next to him and leaning in close.

From this close, I could smell him. Malcolm was sweet, with a hint of orange and bergamot.

It was enough to make me want to bury my nose in his neck and inhale him.

Malcolm sucked in a sharp breath, maybe because of my proximity, but I closed the lid of the computer and turned the chair to face me.

“It is, but it’s not exactly ready yet. There are still a lot of bugs to work out.”

He nodded as we stared at one another. This shouldn’t be so awkward. We’d spent weeks texting and emailing. The idea of us being strangers, even if we hadn’t seen each other naked, was preposterous.

The longer we sat there not speaking, the more my skin crawled. This wasn’t the reunion I’d been hoping for. There had to be a way to make Malcolm comfortable around me again, to tear down his walls and piece together his small mysteries.

“Let’s go grab dinner,” I said, nodding to the door.

Malcolm swallowed. “I already ate.”

“Drinks then. Give me something. We can’t work together if you’re going to be cagey every time we meet.”

A small laugh left his throat, which was music to my ears.

“I’m not being cagey.”

“You are, and you need to loosen up. One drink, Malcolm. A drink and a talk. Nothing more. A professional meeting between colleagues.”

He looked conflicted, concern flashing behind his eyes as he quickly looked between the bed and me, his green eyes darkening for a moment as his pupils dilated, and he swallowed hard.

I hadn’t even mentioned anything about things being sexual, and his brain had gone right there.

Maybe there was hope for me to salvage this after all.