Page 11

Raeann

N ow that I know what Micah’s car looks like, I swear I see it everywhere. On my morning jogs with Athena, when I happen to glance outside Pet Threads’s picture window. I even looked up the make and model. Mercedes G-Class.

By the time the following Wednesday rolls around, I’m on edge.

Not only is our date weighing on me, but so is the way he approached it.

Demanding I text him. Insinuating I would touch myself like he knew I would.

I should never have given in. Now I can’t have an O unless I think of him.

I even tried to think of my old trusty hotties.

Chris Hemsworth. The Miz. An older Justin Timberlake.

Nothing.

I end up shaky with the pent-up pressure until Micah Freeman’s voice hits my head. Then I launch like a rocket.

This morning, I stopped in the middle. I clenched the sheets, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the feelings to subside before I stalked off to the bathroom to get ready. Now, I’m only two-thirds present, and the other third is still thinking I’m broken.

And it’s all Micah Freeman’s fault.

“That doesn’t go in there.”

“Huh?”

A hand falls on mine, stopping me from shoving a black-and-gold dress from the middie line into a bag. It’s nine thirty in the morning, and I feel like I’ve worked all day already. Instead of lying out in her perfect sun-swathed bed, Athena is in here with me, at my feet.

“Girl, I love you, but you are causing chaos. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say curtly. Tab’s lip quirks, and she shakes her head. “What? I mean it. Absolutely nothing is wrong.” Other than my clit is broken and it’s never been broken and I don’t know how to fix it.

“You’re on edge, Rae-bae. You’re, like, in another dimension mirroring this one. You’re still here, but it’s like you don’t live here, you’re only visiting.”

“That was a lot of words with little substance.”

She shakes her head again. “Just call him. Text him. Something. Because you are driving me crazy.”

I think about playing coy, but it’s no use. Tab is my best friend, and she was a witness to most of what happened. The morning after, I fessed up about the credit card actually having my name on it, but instead of seeing all the crazy in this, she thinks it’s some sort of Cinderella story.

In my story, though, Cinderella saves herself. Something I’m already doing. I peer down at the orders for today laid out on our workbench. I don’t need him to save me.

“Even if you call him to give the credit card back, do it.”

“He might be a psychopath.”

“He’s freaking Micah Freeman. He’s wooing you the way he knows how.”

“Say the word, and I’ll end your suffering.” His words repeat in my head. He knew what was going to happen, and maybe that’s why I’m vehemently not behind getting in touch with him. Sure, I made a crazy video about him, but that doesn’t mean he can control my body like this.

“You’re in your head,” Tab chimes in.

She’s completely right. I should go upstairs right now, close the door, and prove to myself I can get off without thinking of him. Then I can put all this silly business behind me. Micah Freeman wooing me? Please.

A knock sounds on the main door. Tab and I peer at each other, and one of us looks more excited than I feel.

My stomach twists, but Tab practically races to the front.

She’s probably thinking the same thing I am, but goddamnit, I can’t get my feet to move.

My brain doesn’t connect with my physical legs like it used to, so I get out there five seconds later than she does.

Athena easily scrambles ahead of me, and by the time I peek around the corner, disappointment hits. Quickly, I try to switch the emotion. Not disappointment… Relief. That’s what I should be feeling.

“We’re closed,” Tab announces to the nice-looking early-twenty-something kid peering in the glass door.

“I’m Jace,” he announces.

“Cool, Jace,” she retorts, opening the front door a tad. “Sorry, we’re closed.”

“No, I’m Jace,” he says, undeterred. “Your new employee.”

Tab and I stare at each other, and I just shrug because I’ve been too burned-out to look at the website link Tab sent me, and by the expression on her face, I’d say it’s the same for her.

Somehow, he squeezes past Tab and walks into the store with his mouth open. “This is so cute,” he gushes. He spots me, and his gaze widens. “Miss Gorman, I saw you on TV and—” He’s interrupted when Athena moves between us and starts sniffing him. He gasps. “This is Athena. Hey, girl.”

He kneels down and starts petting her, and I like him already. Dog people are my people.

“Jace, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

“Oh.” He waves his hand. “Joey sent me.”

I shrug at Tab again because, Joey? Nope. Doesn’t ring any bells. Athena starts licking his face, so I’m one hundred percent sure he’s not going to murder us. “Can we keep him?”

He laughs. “You are just as adorable as your video…and so is she,” he says, petting Athena behind the ears. “No dress today? You always look so perfect in a dress.”

“So Joey?” Tab asks, more skeptical than I am.

“Mr. Freeman’s assistant.”

My stomach squeezes and my eyes flutter closed. Of course. We asked Micah about accountants and employees. But that was back before he ruined my self-care time and, subsequently, my life.

I start to cross my arms over my chest, but Tab pulls me into the back. “One sec, Jace, okay?”

“He said he emailed you guys,” he calls out as I stumble backward into our workbench.

“Don’t ruin this,” Tab chastises.

“ Me ? You didn’t trust him five seconds ago.”

“And you did because you think anyone who pets Athena is a good person, but let me tell you, that dog is an affection whore. She’s not sniffing anyone out.”

I gasp. “That’s not true and you know it!”

“The dirty delivery driver who asked me out one too many times?” she asks, eyes wide.

“He bribed her with treats!” I insist, remembering the day Tab shot him down with finality—because honestly, he deserved it—and then he ended up calling her an uptight bitch. Which is sort of the opposite of politely turning down requests for dates for a little over a month and a half.

Yeah, we haven’t seen him since.

Jace rounds the corner, and we both give him large smiles. He walks around the table, checking out the piles of pet clothes and unfilled mailers. “Are you putting orders together? Awesome.”

He stops at my station, double-checking the address on the label with the address on the pick slip and then getting the correct product to put in the mailer.

Okay, so I was a bit distracted.

Tab pulls me close, and we turn our backs.

She takes out her cell phone and goes into her email app.

She scrolls for a bit, but when that comes up empty, she checks the junk folder, and sure enough, there’s an email from a Joey, Executive Assistant to Mr. Micah Freeman.

It was sent yesterday, explaining that he’d vetted Jace Strong and recommended we hire him at a rate of level two of the enclosed rate sheet that he’s given us that has stepped hourly pay rates congruent with level of experience.

The experience is explicitly laid out and perfect for our store.

“This guy is a genie from a bottle.” Tab pulls up the attached résumé and Pet Threads employment application that I didn’t even know we had—and I’m pretty sure we didn’t until this Joey the Genie guy got involved. He’s right. Jace is perfect for the job. He worked at a pet store for several years.

Before I can stop Tab, she’s written Joey back with a one-line response. You are an angel.

His response is nearly immediate. Thank you.

“Micah did this,” Tab adds, putting her phone away.

It’s exactly where my mind has already been. When we turn around, Jace has finished packing five more packages. The way I was operating today, we would’ve been here all night getting these orders out.

Still, there’s an awkward squeeze of my stomach. This is another invasion. Micah hired someone for us. Or had someone else hire someone for us, which seems even worse. When I echo my thoughts to Tab, she shrugs. “He didn’t hire him yet. Today is a tryout day.”

“Let’s get real, we’re hiring him,” I whisper as Jace seals another package and places it on the pile with the completed packages without having been asked. So far, this guy seems like a godsend.

“Call him,” Tab says. “Or text him. But texting is a cop out and you know it.”

“Agreed,” Jace says. “Calling says you’re more invested. Anyone can text.”

I grin at Tab. “Text it is.”

“Ooh, dude just got friend-zoned,” Jace remarks without even taking his eyes off his task. “Harsh.”

I press my lips together and stare at him. He continues to work while I have an existential crisis.

I turn on my heel, and as I head out into the main store for some privacy, Tab starts giving Jace a description of our day-to-day operations.

Pulling out my phone, I stare at the home screen. It’s a picture of me and Athena. My knuckles turn white the longer I hold on to the phone, and I really don’t know what to do.

When I let my mind relax and stop thinking so much, I end up pressing on his name and holding my phone up to my ear.

It rings twice, three times. I almost hang up, but then Micah answers, breathless. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” I ask, like I have any right to. “You’re…breathing heavy.” I flare my shirt as the image of Micah hovering over me, shirtless and sweaty, flashes through my mind.

“Workout session with the team.”

I don’t acknowledge what he’s said before I launch into my issue this morning. “You had your assistant hire someone for us?”

“They started today? Great. I’ve been assured that you’ll love them. They’ve been vetted.”

“I think you missed the part I’m hung up on. You had your assistant hire him? For us?”

“You never called me. Or texted.”

The noise in the background dampens, and I imagine Micah moving to a quieter area. A hallway maybe? A trophy room where he can look at all of his accomplishments?