“Can we talk about this in my office?” Graham asks, exasperated.
“I thought this was your office?” Lincoln retorts, the smile on his face making it obvious he’s doing it just to rile his brother up.
“You two are hysterical,” I say, not able to wipe the grin off my face.
Lincoln walks in front of my desk and leans against the corner. “You were right, G. I should’ve remembered her.”
“You didn’t?” I say, my mouth dropping in faux shock. “How could you forget me? Don’t you remember the time you were chasing your sisters and I with a worm at the Farm and I fell and had to get stitches in my chin?”
“That was you? Wow, Mallory,” he whistles between his teeth. “I remember you as a little girl with braces. You’re . . . beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I offer, blushing at his compliment.
“Didn’t I hear you got engaged yesterday?” Graham interrupts, his arms crossed over his chest. His watch sparkles in the light as he almost glares at Lincoln. “And are getting married in a few weeks?”
“Congratulations,” I say, watching Lincoln’s ass as he lifts off my desk.
He turns to me and gives me a dazzling smile. “Thank you. I’m pretty jacked about it, to be honest. I gotta go get tuxes and all that shit and I don’t even hate it.”
“Because it means you get her,” I volunteer.
“Yeah.” He looks at the floor, his cheeks a touch flushed. “She really fucked up everything in my life,” he beams. “I’m going to be a daddy. I mean, I’m going to be responsible for another human, and while I’m not sure that’s a good idea, it’s happening and I’m looking forward to it. It’s crazy how fast shit changes.”
His entire face is lit up by his admission and I wonder who the lucky girl is. Not just because she wrapped up this handsome guy, but because he’s obviously head-over-heels for her. My heart tugs in admiration and jealousy because I’ve never had someone look at me like that. Ever. Maybe I pretended Eric did, but seeing it like this makes it apparent I haven’t.
“Let’s finish this in my office,” Graham says, disappearing inside the doors.
“Nice to see you again, Mal.” Lincoln gives me a peace sign and joins his brother, closing the door behind them.
I look around the room. I’m not sure if it was this boring from the get-go or if I was so busy yesterday that I didn’t notice. Or if Las Vegas would seem dull after the Landry’s left. I imagine the latter is the case.
They bring such an air of excitement to a room. When they walk in, everything seems to come to life. I can’t explain it, but damn it if I can’t feel it.
I wonder what they’re discussing on the other side of the door, if Graham is more like Lincoln when he isn’t in the role of CEO. I’ve imagined what Graham’s laugh sounds like and what kind of music he listens to. He’s so hard to predict. I wouldn’t know where to even start. I doubt I’ll ever know that much about him. It wasn’t on his stupid bullet-point list, but I can read between the lines.
His daily email, the list he promised he’d have for me to do each morning, is glowing in my inbox. Instead of attacking it first, I dig inside my bag. After a few seconds, a framed picture of me and Joy is on one corner of my desk, a shot from us hiking at Sandpiper Trail that always makes me smile. A white, freesia-scented candle sets next to my computer.
“There,” I say out loud, clicking on Graham’s email. “Now I can get to work.”
I’m poring over a set of files Graham left for me while I was gone for lunch, lost to the numbers and notes, when I hear him clear his throat. Jumping at the sound, I see him standing in the doorway, watching me.
“You scared me,” I gasp. He’s been running his hands through his hair, his tie slightly askew, and I know better than to look him in the eye. If there’s one thing about my new employer I know already, and there might just be the one thing, it’s that he can read my mind. I’m sure of it.
“How’s that coming along?” he asks.
“Good. I’m almost finished. I did find a few errors though in the coding, which I know wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing,” I say, quickly, “but I couldn’t help but note them. That’s what the green flags are on the side.”
His lips twist in amusement. “That’s interesting. I did that last night.” He seems to get lost in his thoughts for a second. “How many did you find?”
“Three? Want to see?”
He comes up behind me as I open the folder. My fingers stumble as I flip through the papers in search of the green flags. His cologne, subtle from the wear of the day, floats around me, teasing me. I gulp and try not to flinch as he reaches over my shoulder, his suit jacket brushing against me, as he points at the first flag.
“I was off by .002?” His breath is hot against my ear, sending an array of goosebumps across my flesh.
“Yes,” I say as evenly as I can as I flip to the next flag. “On this one, it was .003. Not much, but still incorrect.”
“I’m impressed.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t change position, just rests his palm flat against my desktop. Hovering over me, he completely dominates the space. There’s nothing I can say, nothing I can think, that’s not in his control. He knows this. His breathing is completely even, his tone completely cool. “How long did this take you?”
“An hour or so.”
“Can I ask you something, Mallory?”
“You’re the boss.”
“Do you like working here?”
“So far, yes, I do.”
“Do you think you’ll like working here in the future?”
I’m not sure what he’s getting at. It seems to be a loaded question, or a question that he’s using to lead me to another one, but I can’t think straight with him leaning over me like this. All I can think about is if I move, I’ll brush his arm. If I tilt my head back, my face will be inches from his. If I turn around, I’d be in his personal space.
“Is that a no?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Oh, no,” I stammer. “I mean, it’s not a no. I think I’ll like working here for a long time. I hope so, anyway.”
After a pause, he pushes off and stands. I’m afraid to look back. My eyes stay trained on a small indentation above the door ahead of me like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He sighs, but I don’t think I’m supposed to hear it.
“Good job with the file.” He comes around the front of my desk, his glasses in his hand. “I’m happy to have you on board. I don’t think I’ve said that.”
“You haven’t,” I say, testing his reaction with a grin. His lip quivers, but he doesn’t quite return it. “But it’s nice to hear.”
“How about this,” he says with a flurry, “With the circumstances what they were, we didn’t have time for an actual interview. What if we have an informal interview tomorrow. A working lunch, maybe?”
I grin nervously. “That might be a good idea.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never worked somewhere before where I felt so . . .”