Page 7 of Stay

“Hmmph. Alright.” He turns to leave and then stops. “Hey, who was that new client you had in here this morning?”

“Someone looking for a quick floor redesign.”

“She’s hot.”

“She’s taken,” I say through gritted teeth.

“She can always get taken again,” he shoots back. “I mean, goddamn, did you see the size of her ass? There’s room for two back there.”

My hands ball into fists and I lift off my seat so fast, there’s no hiding that I’m about to leap over my desk to throttle the man who signs my paychecks. But I stop myself from following through because I can’t afford to lose my job or go to jail for beating the shit out of my boss. This isn’t the first time Noah has talked like that about a client. It won’t be the last. He’s a player who’s filthy rich, and he always gets away with his bad behavior.

“You need to watch how you fucking talk about clients, Noah. You’re going to get a sexual harassment lawsuit one day.”

It’s moments like this when I hate myself for working here. The pay is incredible, but the management is fucking embarrassing. It’s why I started working on the side with my brother, Trey, redesigning the houses he flips with the love of his life, Erin.

And it’s the biggest reason I’ll be putting my resignation in right after the holidays. I can’t leave before then or I would. But I’m waiting with bated breath to hear back from one last project before I walk out these doors for good.

Noah puts his hands up and laughs. “I was just kidding.”

Fuck this asshole. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Nah. You’re on top of shit as always.”

I stare at him again, and something in me cringes. Noah looks rough. “You’ve got powdered sugar on your shirt.”

He looks down. “Oh shit.” He hastily brushes it off. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

The door shuts softly behind him, and I watch Noah stalk to the next office down from mine. I hate that we’re in glass fishbowls. I hate that I can’t strangle my boss because murder is wrong. I hate that the company feels like it’s gone downhill over the past year, and I don’t know why or if the reason is somehow my fault.

“What the fuck was that about?” Jaedyn asks, peeking in.

“Nothing.” I sign the coffee-stained papers and brush past him on my way out. If Jaedyn wants to press, he doesn’t. I drop the files on Tamara’s desk when I get to the lobby and head straight for the elevator.

•••

Two o’clock hits and I’m standing outside a building, waiting for Haley to show up.

When two fifteen hits, worry creeps in.

Two twenty-two and I’m about ready to leave.

“Sorry!” She runs towards me with a large bag hooked around her arm and two drinks in her hand. “I mis-judged the parking situation big time. I still haven’t gotten a permit yet, and had to find a spot on the street, which is a bitch, by the way.” She halts right in front of me, catching her breath. “I hope double mochas are still your thing.”

I stare at the drink she offers me. “And a filthy chai with extra cinnamon is still yours?” I hold out a cup to her, too.

We’ve both bought our favorites to give to each other.

This is trouble.

Haley stares at our drinks for a moment, then giggles. “Oh my gosh, Cole.” Her laughter is music to my ears. “Didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“I can’t forget,” I confess, not at all talking about her favorite drink. “And thanks.” We swap drinks and I take a sip of mine. I haven’t had a double iced mocha in years, but I’m not telling her that.

We both two-fist our overpriced beverages up to the third floor.

“Ta da!” Haley saunters into her clusterfuck of an office space.

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