Page 20 of Before We Were Us

“Um.” I lean back against the couch and am thankful that he isn’t as hammered as Jensen. “I wish I was.”

Suddenly he bursts out laughing and I can’t help but smile.

“I got ‘em,” he assures me before ending the call to the sound of him enjoying his friend’s situation far too much.

thirteen

. . .

Jensen

I walk inside the building that houses not only the entire operation of Webster Enterprises, but also several other businesses. The building is also owned by Brynn’s father; he rents out several floors.

Approaching the elevator, I look at the large plated sign next to them searching for the name I want.

The top floor makes sense. I tap the up button and wait for the doors to open.

A few women approach, standing at my side and I hear them whispering, but don’t look in their direction. I already feel like a fool and my entire focus is on the words rolling around in my head. Words I’ve rehearsed, changed, and rehearsed over and over trying to make it right.

The car arrives and I step inside tapping the number seven then I turn and lean back against the back wall as more people pile inside. As the doors slide shut and we start to ascend, my nerves kick up a notch and I do my best to maintain them.

We manage to stop four times before I finally arrive on the seventh floor and step out of the elevators. There’s marble flooring and pale gray walls with the words Webster Enterprises in chrome reflective lettering mounted on the wall behind a sprawling receptionist desk.

The two women look up simultaneously as I approach and offer me a smile.

“Can I help you?” the blonde closest to me asks.

“Yes, I’m here to see Brynnlee Webster.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, tapping on her keyboard.

I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. But calling her wasn’t an option. I needed to see her in person. “No, but I worked with her on a case recently and was hoping I could talk to her.” I grab a card out of the pocket of my jacket and pass it to her. “Can you tell her Detective Steele is here to see her?”

I should feel guilty using my position to get through to Brynn, but I don’t. After our last interaction I feel a face to face will be more effective. Though I'm not quite sure of everything I said to her on the phone, from what Connor told me, what I am sure of is that I made a fool of myself.

“There is a Detective Steele here to see you.” I don’t notice her even dialing the phone before she places it back on the receiver and stands from the desk.

“Right this way.” She rounds the desk and leads me down the long hallway. I take the opportunity to look around and am very impressed by the set up. Offices line the hall on both sides with nameplates on the doors. At the end of the hall is one very large office I assume belongs to her father.

The receptionist stops and lightly taps on a door. As I glance toward it I see Brynnlee Webster embossed in the plate. The woman pauses for only a moment before she turns the knob and pushes inside.

“Good morning,” she says with a smile before stepping aside motioning for me to enter.

When I do, my eyes instantly lock with Brynn’s as she sits behind her desk with a pile of paperwork before her.

As I move in deeper the door clicks shut behind me but I don’t look away from her.

She has her long dark hair pulled back and piled atop her head, a pen sticking in the mess of hair and a pair of glasses I’d never imagined her wearing. She’s beautiful and I smile, feeling that familiar pull in my chest that I manage to get every single time I’ve been near her.

“Feeling better?” she asks with a smirk and I continue to hold her stare. All the words I’ve rehearsed are gone. “After last night I would have guessed you’d be down and out for at least twenty-four hours.”

It’s then she stands and starts to walk around her desk. My pulse quickens and my throat grows tight. Damn if the woman isn’t wearing a skirt, showing off her gorgeous long legs and the hottest pair of heels I’ve ever seen. Her blouse is tucked in, but unbuttoned a few at the top and when she sits back on her desk it gapes slightly.

Black lacy bra, of course it had to be black.

Moving closer without words I crowd her, and she doesn’t move away.

“It’s been a week,” I say in explanation, as if she’d understand. Brynn raises a brow and stares back at me without words. “I don’t do well with a brush-off.”

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