Page 57 of The Relationship Clause

I take a step back for more breathing room. “Mr. Ferguson and I will be in Vail this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.”

Shane looks immediately interested, like a dog who’s caught on to a new and interesting scent. “Wait, what? Both of you? In Vail?” A devilish smile grows on his face.

“It’s not what you think,” I rush to say, though Mr. Ferguson remains curiously quiet on the subject. “Anyway, um, we’ll both be gone, and I know we were thinking that might be when the mole would try to gain access to sensitive things on the computers. I was thinking about it, and I’m not sure that’ll be enough.”

Mr. Ferguson frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I think they’ve probably already gotten all the information they needed to steal. Why risk coming back? But what if we make it seem like they missed something? Or that you two have come up with an even better idea for the 3D printers?”

“You mean set a trap?” Shane says, looking interested.

“Exactly. We set a trap. We dangle a tasty treat in front of them that they won’t be able to resist going after. We can even give it a name so it sounds more official. Shane can do his magical coding stuff, and as soon as they go for the bait, boom! We’ve got them.”

Shane and Mr. Ferguson look at each other like they’ve stumbled upon buried treasure. “That’s brilliant,” Mr. Ferguson says.

Nose, nose, nose, nose.

“Seriously!” Shane’s smile grows until it fills his whole face. “Why didn’t we think of this before?”

“Could we have something ready by Thursday?” Mr. Ferguson asks.

“Dude. My mind is already going into coding mode. But what idea could we use for bait?”

“It doesn’t even have to be a real idea,” I say. “You could hint that you have a new idea. Hold a staff meeting this week and mention you guys have something big in the works. Something even bigger than your current project. That’s sure to tempt the mole to do some poking around.”

“Great idea.” Mr. Ferguson is standing from his desk now, energy in every movement.

“Yes, that’s perfect!” Shane says.

They slap hands, then start launching into ideas and technical talk. It’s as if they’ve forgotten I’m here, and I’m totally fine with that. Happiness floods my chest, and all the adrenaline and nervousness is gone, replaced by endorphins and the feeling that I can accomplish anything.

I’m about to slip out of the room and let them finish the meeting without me when Shane sees me, grabs my elbow lightly, wraps his arms around me, and spins me around, laughing. “You’re a genius,” he says as he plops me back down right in front of Mr. Ferguson.

Mr. Ferguson looks as if he might move in for a hug or something too, but alarms go off in my brain, and I take a big step back, holding my hand out to him instead.

The mood in the room instantly changes to hard-core awkwardness. I shake Mr. Ferguson’s hand while staring at his nose, and Shane hides a smirk as I move to the safety of the door again.

“Um, okay, well, glad I could help. I better get back to my desk. Byeeee!”

Back in my chair, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I did it. I survived my first interaction with Mr. Ferguson post-kiss. Now I need to make sure I survive the trip to Vail.

The rest of the week, I make sure I’m more reserved in my interactions with Mr. Ferguson. I’m not cold and distant like I was when I was upset with him before. Instead, I’m more professional. I keep my biggest smiles to myself, I keep my distance from him physically, I stare at his nose, and if any interaction can be completed with a text or an email, I do that instead of popping into his office like I normally would.

Mr. Ferguson and Shane set the bait and the trap—which we’ve decided to call Phase Three—for the mole, and I continue to surreptitiously investigate various employees with little success.

By Thursday afternoon, I feel like a slinky being pulled apart by two toddlers. My breaking point is near. It has required all my effort to be aloof with Mr. Ferguson and professional in all other aspects. I feel it, and Summer and Kiera feel it. I know this because they’ve sent me multiple text messages this week asking, “What’s wrong?” and “Are you okay?” even though I’ve told them repeatedly that I’M FINE.

I’m almost, almost, looking forward to this little vacation to Vail. Partly because it will be nice to have a vacation, but also because I’ve come up with a plan.

Yes, I know, another plan. I’m a planning machine, I tell you! A machine! Muahahaha!

Ahem.

Anyway, this plan should help the stress of the whole fake girlfriend thing go away, and it involves a public breakup in front of Owen’s—er, Mr. Ferguson’s—dad at the end of our trip. All I need to do is get Mr. Ferguson on board with it, but that’s a conversation for another time.

As soon as the clock strikes five on Thursday, I’m like Cinderella at the ball. Without another word to Mr. Ferguson, I hightail it out of the office. This evening, I need to pack, eat a healthy microwavable dinner, then relax in a bubble bath until bed. That’s my intent at least. The more likely scenario will probably involve putting the packing off every conceivable way until I finally stress-pack at midnight and fall into a fitful sleep shortly after.

I’m in the middle of the very important task of researching the different methods of packing when there’s a knock. A peek at my phone tells me it’s almost nine o’clock, and when I open the door, I’m surprised to see a casual Mr. Ferguson on the other side of it, pacing.

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