Page 35 of Chief-of-Security

“You don’t have to make me anything fancy.”

The glare she throws over her shoulder at me isn’t intimidating. Her resemblance to an angry squirrel is too adorable, but I shut my mouth anyway.

“Bullwinkle, you woke me up by scaring the shit out of me banging on the door like that. I’m making fucking coffee, and you’re gonna like it. Now, why are you here? And don’t say to wish me a happy birthday because I already told you it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a morning person. Got it.” I grab the back of her gaming chair and drag it over so I can talk to her. Sitting down seems like a good idea, easier to hide the way my dick twitches with interest every time her movement reveals that tempting inch of skin. My body remembers how she felt sprawled across my chest, but I distract myself from it by telling her what happened at the gym and about Margot.

“It got me thinking. Derek’s never done anything that’s actually inappropriate, right? He just makes people uncomfortable. It was the same with this douchey-faced kid I just dealt with at the gym. He’s always filming, but he could claim he was filming himself, and if anyone else was in the frame, it was unintentional.”

Frankie’s busy with her fancy coffee maker, the hiss of steam building on the side loud in her quiet apartment. “Yeah. When he cornered me at…” she swallows, “at the holiday party, that’s the only time he’s ever done anything. And even that was just a drunk dude talking. Anyone else, anyone who wasn’t me, would have just walked past him.” Her shoulders slump, and she rests her hands on the counter for a moment before shaking her head and opening the cupboard above her.

Rising up on her toes, she grabs at a bottle on the top shelf but only pushes it further back and out of reach. I’m out of the chair and at her side in a few strides, but she doesn’t notice, busy rooting around in a drawer. I grab the bottle and hold it out just as she pulls a pair of tongs out of the drawer, nearly hitting me in the face with them.

“Watch it, Rocky.” I grab hold of the tongs before they smack my face and grin down at her. “You could’ve asked me for help.” Unable to resist touching her, I tap her on the nose before setting the bottle down on the counter beside the espresso machine and stepping back.

“I have a system, you big moose. I’ve been this size since I was fourteen, I can manage.” She pours a spoonful from the bottle into a mug, but hesitates before pouring it into the second. “Do you like hazelnut?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I shrug. “Fancy coffee is fancy coffee, right?”

Frankie rolls her eyes at me, then points to the cupboard above my head. “I have vanilla, caramel, and peppermint if you’d rather have one of those.”

“Hazelnut is fine, Frankie.” I wait for her to meet my eye, which she finally does with another one of those cheek-puffing expressions. “You don’t need to go out of your way. I’m the one who woke you up, remember?”

She hesitates, then pours a spoonful of the liquid into the second mug without a word. I put the bottle back in the cupboard before leaning back against the edge of the counter, watching her. “So, back to the assholes. I’ve been thinking about it. We have two options. One—we can try to catch Derek in the act and get him fired.”

Frankie snaps her head toward me before quickly turning back to the milk she’s steaming. The only sound in the apartment is the hiss of steam and bubbling of the liquid in her hands. I don’t speak, letting the idea sink in. Finally, the hissing fades and she pulls the silver pitcher away and sets it on the counter. “We can’t. He’s an asshole, but he’s an irritatingly good programmer.”

A need to touch her fills me, so I shove my hands in my pockets to keep myself from doing something stupid. “Is he better than you?”

“Well, no.” Frankie pauses, pouring dark espresso into the mugs in front of her. “But we need him.”

I growl at her words. “Does he know things about the new software that no one else does? Is he really irreplaceable?” I push, because it irritates me that she’s willing to put up with someone like that. A tiny, annoying voice in the back of my mind keeps pointing out that she’s willing to give Derek, a certified prick, second, third, and fourth chances after the way he treats the women in the office. An even more annoying voice in my head whispers that no one has ever given me a second chance—that once they’re done with me, they’re done.

Frankie picks up a bright blue mug and hands it to me, stepping back quickly and glancing away. “No.” Her voice is soft, placating. Like she’s afraid I’m going to blow up at her.

Fuck, I’ve done it again. I take a deep breath so I don’t growl again. “Frankie.” She doesn’t look at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She sits on her chair, tucking her feet underneath her, the movement sending the chair turning. It only takes me one step to grab it and hold it still for her. I squat in front of the chair, careful of the mug in my free hand. “Just because he’s a good programmer, doesn’t mean he can get away with being a shithead.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I keep talking. “But I get it. I don’t think Mr. Sutton would hold it against you, but he’s not really the problem, is he?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t be that girl. The one who rocks the boat. Do you know how hard it is to be a female software developer? How hard it is to be a good female software developer?”

Closing her eyes, she takes a long sip of her coffee, smiling a little as she swallows.

And that’s the moment it hits me.

I’m not just protective of Frankie. I’m not doing this because she’s my friend and she needs help.

In the last few weeks, Frankie has nestled right there next to Liam as someone I would do anything for.

I’m a fucking goner for this woman. And she has no idea.

Twelve

Frankie

I can’t decide if having Julian here is making my coffee taste better or if I’m just so tired that the caffeine is hitting my system extra hard. My eyes still closed, I take another sip and lean back against the chair, enjoying the sweetness of the hazelnut flavoring and the creaminess of the milk.

I’d surprised myself by saying no to Julian. Unlike usual, I was clear-headed as he asked me to help him get Derek fired. The numbness that usually takes over when people make demands of me, the part of me that rolls over and agrees without stopping to ask the rest of me if that’s something we even want, is quiet. Like it knows that Julian is asking me because he actually wants to know what I want.

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