Page 46 of The Relationship Clause

He lifts an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe me. It’s right at this moment that I realize how close we’re standing. How my chest is practically touching his. The way he’s boxing me in, both of his strong, solid arms on either side of me, resting on my dresser.

Owen’s eyes trace my face, and I think maybe he’s realizing how close we are too. Instead of backing off though, he moves in closer. His face is inches from mine, and it’s the closest I’ve come to getting an in-depth look at his bedroom lips. They are positively swoonworthy.

“Do you promise to pack and not lock me out of your room?” he asks, his voice kind of throaty and deep. Shoot. That’s exactly what I planned on doing. “Because you know if you do that, I’ll just climb in through your window.”

“I’ll lock it.”

“The latch is broken. I can see that from here.”

Double shoot. “Fine.”

Once again, I can almost feel his gaze caressing my skin. Finally, he leaves my room and I pack in peace.

CHAPTER 14

OWEN

It’s official. I’ve completely lost control of my life.

I’ve got a beautiful and totally off-limits woman living feet away from me, my mom thinks she’s my secretary, my dad thinks she’s my girlfriend, and, to make matters worse, she’s officially taking up space in my brain when I should be thinking of more important things. Like saving my company from the damages this mole is doing.

I spent a whole ten minutes of company time researching how much it would cost to have all the windows in Junie’s house replaced. One, because those things are old and are probably costing her a fortune in heating and cooling costs, and two, because I can’t stand the thought of her living in a home that anybody with half a brain cell could break into whenever they want.

Yeah, I know. It’s bad.

What’s also bad is the fact that Shane installed the code on our computers nearly a week ago to notify us if certain files have been opened, and so far, nothing. No alarms have been tripped, no discoveries have been made. Part of me hoped this would be the answer to all our problems. He’d add the code and, boom, the next day, we’d have our culprit.

But that’s not how these things go, apparently. Our mole is either being extra careful, or they know a lot more code than we assumed they would. At least Junie, Shane, and I were able to narrow our suspect pool down to six people. Four of them work upstairs with us, two work downstairs with Shane. I hate to think of any of them being the one leaking sensitive information. Shane and I vetted each and every one. We know and like these people. It’s hard not to take it personally.

To make matters worse, another article came out online yesterday that made it even more clear our tech was out there. After that, it was difficult to keep Shane from rampaging through the office, shaking down every single suspect until he forced a confession out of someone. Heck, it was difficult to keep myself from joining him.

But Junie reminded us we need to do this the right way in order for the law to be on our side.

“Okay, everyone, you know what time it is!”

I glance up from my desk to see Junie standing from hers. She’s holding her phone aloft, and I can already see the smiles start to creep up on my other employees’ faces.

Every Friday, I let my employees leave an hour early. I’m usually a stickler when it comes to work and a curmudgeon when it comes to anything fun, so I know it isn’t much, but it’s good for morale. And, to be honest, I could use a little morale boost.

Every Friday since Junie’s gotten here, at three o’clock, she jogs around the office, holding her phone over her head while “The Final Countdown” blares. Usually the last hour of Fridays are sluggish and drag on, but ever since she started doing this, it’s been different. It’s one of the most productive hours of the day.

She starts jogging, and the familiar tune breaks out. Kiera whoops and spins around in her seat. Anna’s head starts bobbing, all of the usual desperate guys are watching and nodding along with the music. It’s a good distraction, and I find myself smiling and doing the same.

Until Kiera catches me.

I wipe the smile off my face and duck down behind my computer, but it isn’t long before I get a text from my sister.

Kiera: Soooooo, how is the new neighbor situation going?

Owen: If by “new neighbor situation” you mean your best friend temporarily staying in my extra apartment until her place gets fixed up, then fine. That situation is going fine.

Kiera: Uh-huh.

Kiera: And how long is this going to continue?

Owen: Until she can get her furnace repaired, her floors and windows replaced, and her kitchen in working order again. Her place should be condemned. I’m hoping we can get her back in there in three weeks or less when it’s actually livable.

Kiera: That’s not what I meant.

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