“Company picnic?” My throat goes tight. “Does that include me?”
“You’re with the company now. It’s out at Percy Priest. It’s an annual thing to coincide with Labor Day—you have Monday off, by the way.”
“Oh, yeah.” I wonder if I should visit Renée, make sure she’s doing okay, has enough money…
“So you going?”
“To the picnic?”
He laughs. “To AJ’s. After work tomorrow.”
“Oh, no.” I shake my head, and smile, looking down. “I’ll probably be up late tonight preparing for the meeting. By the end of the day, I’ll be ready to crash.”
“The offer’s open if you change your mind.” He steps to the door, but pauses to give me one last look, coupled with an eyebrow raise. “Think about it.”
I’m sure he’s trying to be nice, but it’s coming across as creepy. “Sure. Thanks.”
Once he’s gone, I hustle over and shut my door. The rest of the afternoon, I spend sorting through the files. Even if Taron said I don’t need to memorize them, I still want to spend a few minutes on each one, familiarizing myself with the basics.
I’m completely engrossed in my work when I hear a tapping on the glass. Looking up, I see Jerry standing outside holding his hands up. I look around and see the sun is setting. Shit, I worked straight through lunch. Another smile, a small wave, and he leaves. I stand and stretch, ready to call it a night.
A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s after six, and it appears everyone is gone. Jerry, Taron, Mr. Randall who I have not met—all of their lights are off. A lone envelope is in the mail box outside my door, and when I pick it up, I see it’s addressed to George Fletcher. My brow furrows, and I glance toward the opposite corner. I’m not surprised to see his light is still on.
Turning the business envelope over in my hands, I decide to check in before I go home. We do have a meeting together tomorrow with this new clien
t, and who knows? This could be important. I toss my blazer over my arm, grab my bag, and pick up the small file for Madagascar, leaving my door open as I cross the corridor.
I tap on his door lightly and wait. No noises come from inside, so I knock a little louder.
“Yes?” His voice is stern, but I don’t let it stop me.
“Sorry,” I speak as I open the door and enter, looking at the envelope. “I seem to have gotten someone’s mail by mistake.”
When my eyes land on his, it’s like a little earthquake that shakes me all the way to my core. His brow is furrowed like a storm brewing over his warm brown eyes, and an unlit cigarette dangles from his perfect fingers.
The inside of my lip slips between my teeth. I need to go on a date or something. I should not be responding to my new boss this way.
“Should I give this to you?” I hold out the missive, and his eyes go to it.
“There are at least four people between you and me. Give it to Sandra.” That voice.
“Are you always so angry, Mr. Fletcher? Or is it just me?” I’m being playful, but I’m instantly locked in his gaze again.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
He stands, rising to his full six-foot-who knows what. All I know is I’m down below him, where I’m sure he thinks I belong. “Give it to me.”
I step forward, holding it out to him, hating that my fingers tremble slightly. He snatches the letter, gives it a quick glance, then tosses it in the trash.
“But…” I move like I might catch it. “It might be important.”
“I don’t go by that name. My father retired six years ago. How important can it be?” He still isn’t smiling. He’s watching me like a predator, waiting to see what I’ll do next. Waiting to pounce. Everything about him feels dangerous and thrilling… which is very unprofessional.
“Well, goodnight.” I start to leave, and he takes a seat. At the door, I pause, thinking. “George?”
“No one calls me that.” His tone drops lower, and for some reason, it makes me feel naughty.
“Someone does.”