Page 21 of Under Locke & Key

Roping my friends into this new endeavor was easier than I expected, or rather hoped, even though coordinating schedules for so many of us took the better part of the last month. We are solidly in May and the wait to see everyone and get their opinion has been difficult.

Heaven only knows how they’ll react to actually meeting Bryce in person now that they’ve been getting hints and asking questions about him for a couple weeks.

Sebastian and Farren are excited to help out with the job, especially given how they both understand what leaving Lakin-Cole is like.

ángel on the other hand . . . Well, I’m not quite sure he’ll be able to keep his mouth shut.

Everything from how my last job ended all the way through my relationship mishaps—he’s a landmine with a sensitive trigger.

Multiple parts of my life are poised to collide tonight.

Taking a fortifying breath, I smooth my hands down my shirt and try to ignore how clammy my palms are.

Bryce is on his way and after a few weeks of car rides and tentative escape room experiences, I feel like I’m ready to lose my mind.

We haven’t gotten nearly enough done, and it’s been surprisingly difficult to scope out rival companies when their dates and times are all booked up.

But I suppose that’s what we get for not planning as well as we could have.

I’m still getting paid for the days I’m scheduled even though we haven’t been able to accomplish as much as we’d like.

Sketching out some ideas in secret has filled the rest of the time and I can only hope that Bryce doesn’t get upset once I show them to him—given how premature they are.

Bryce has been apologetic, kind, and totally unaffected. The same can’t be said for me.

My clothes smell like him, the tiniest bit, traces from working so closely all month.

My mind is filled with small, inconsequential things that shouldn’t matter but do.

Like how he always opens doors for me, offering his hand when the terrain is uneven or there’s a significant step up or down as if he knows that I can be just the slightest bit clumsy.

I can’t erase the way the brief impression of his hand against mine feels, especially not since he took off his wedding ring.

The tan line is still there, faint and fading daily, but somehow it feels significant that he removed it after our .

. . mishap over my curtain fiasco. What a mess.

He should’ve just let me fall on my ass.

It would’ve saved me from knowing just how solid he is under those henleys and denim shirts.

I need a stiff drink and a good orgasm, and since I’m not going to get involved with my boss, both of those things will have to fall to me.

My phone buzzes in my hand, Bryce’s contact on the notification window.

Bryce

I’m downstairs. Do you need help with anything before we head out?

He’s taken to asking this every day, ever since he caught me and I lost my mind right along with my balance.

It’s sweet. It’s unnecessary. It’s unfairly hot given that he’s just trying to do the right thing and I’ve taken him up on that offer already by letting him hang the curtain rods, his height making it a cake walk— without the need of a ladder.

Don’t think about that now. You’re on the clock. Keep it in your pants.

I’m all good, thanks! Be right down.

Spring is in full swing, cherry blossoms have come and gone and branches with bright green leaves line the street.

Colorful blooms spring up in the window boxes and front beddings.

Businesses and homes alike seem to have embraced the longer and warmer days happily now that the clocks are set to a new time and the dark of winter is a distant memory.

Floral wreaths decorate front doors and I’m tempted to get one myself for the downstairs door.

But it feels so . . . domestic. I’ve never been one to decorate seasonally, or at all really.

Dulaney just makes me feel like I can be different—more involved in life when I’m not chained to a desk for the majority of it.

Bryce waits outside the car—because of course—he couldn’t just sit inside and honk like a normal guy and make it easier for me to forget how devastatingly attractive he is as a person.

Opening my door for me, he gives a smile that instantly has me flushing and I seriously need to get my shit together because I haven’t blushed over a guy since I was in middle school.

The closer we get to D.C. the tighter the knot in my stomach twists.

It’s barely been two full months. I shouldn’t be this filled with trepidation over returning to a city that’s been my home since I was eighteen.

Although it’s probably for that very reason—the over-familiarity, the feeling of failure so bad I had to leave—that has me crossing my arms across my abdomen as if I can physically restrain my feelings of unease.

“You okay?” Bryce asks, turning down the music that’s been thrumming in the background, too low for me to fully hear the lyrics but enough to keep the silence from being all-consuming.

He steals a glance my way and I grit my teeth through the stress of him doing that when the beltway is a fucking nightmare and even a second of distraction could result in him rear-ending one of the fools ahead of us that can’t drive to save their lives.

“Nervous, I guess.” It’s an understatement and I’m not sure how to put into words why I am.

It’s a mix of not being back since I left Lakin-Cole and all the strain that I was under—stress I hadn’t even noticed was slowly driving me to the brink until it was removed and I could breathe again.

It’s the knowledge that my parents have no idea that I’ve moved and besides my brief text messages with my mom I haven’t bothered to reach out and tell them.

It’s blowing ángel off and telling him I’m busy when in reality I just don’t want to have to talk about my attraction to Bryce and have it be a real thing.

It’s the fact that my friends will be joining me tonight and I have no idea how they’ll react, whether they’ll judge me for this choice or find me lacking somehow.

Mostly though I’m worried that Bryce will see more of me, learn more about my background, and realize that I’m white-knuckling my way through life—not nearly as confident or capable as I make myself out to be.

“There’s no need to be. Logan and Gabrielle are really nice.

He’s known me since we were in school, so if anyone has reason to be nervous it’s me.

He’s likely to embarrass me and I’m not sure whether his pointing out that I have no idea what I’m doing will make you want to quit while you’re ahead.

” His hands tighten on the steering wheel even though his voice is even—betraying the nerves under the surface.

Again, I’m surprised at his willingness to be honest and vulnerable. When compared to Riley’s half-truths and careful sentences that hid her deception, it’s unnerving. When put up against the veneer at Lakin-Cole, dressed up in HR language to cover the misogyny and bias, it’s almost unbelievable.

I sputter out a laugh before I respond. “It’s not your friends I’m worried about.

It’s mine. My best friend especially can be a bit .

. . nosy? I’m bracing myself for them to either embarrass me with stories no boss should hear, or for one of them to get all up in your business asking too many questions—likely of a personal nature. ”

We make eye contact again and the flip inside my stomach isn’t just from the fear of a fender bender.

Pulling into a parking garage close to the escape room in Glover Park, not too far from Georgetown and my old university, I can’t help but compare it with Dulaney.

Crossing the street causes a panic because D.C.

drivers don’t give a damn about pedestrians or cyclists, and the cyclists don’t care about people crossing either.

It doesn’t escape my notice that Bryce walks on the street side of the sidewalks, and his hand twitches, arm slightly outstretched behind me but careful not to touch—as if he wants to guide me or be able to push me out of the way of one of said crazy drivers should the need arise.

I’ve always prided myself on being independent—strong and capable, and ready to take on whatever and fuck anyone that gets in my way—but something about that gesture . . . I feel cherished instead of condescended.

By the time we make it to the escape room my cheeks are flushed from more than just the walk.

Our friends are already waiting in the lobby and the game master plasters on a huge smile when we finally join the group.

I want to greet ángel, and Sebastian and Farren, but the pink-haired, pierced employee launches into her spiel and the group’s attention is focused forward again.

“Welcome, welcome! I was just explaining to the others that we don’t actually lock you all in the room and you’re welcome to use the bathroom whenever needed.

Your room is all the way to the back of the hallway and to the right, the restroom is the door directly across from it. Now, are we ready to start?”

We give a series of nods and I take the time to peek at Logan and Gabrielle.

He’s not quite as tall as Bryce, though that’s not an easy bar to reach.

Curly brown hair that’s short on the sides and a bit swoopy on top.

He’s round cheeked, as if he never quite lost his baby face, and his blue eyes sparkle when he looks over at his wife.

Gabrielle is taller than me and Farren, with wild curls and a cheeky smile that contrasts stunningly with her dark skin.

They steal a glance at us in the back and as soon as our eyes catch we’re all quick to look away.