Page 52 of Snake

Sitting on the aisle, Chase answered, “Another scotch’d be grand, sweetheart.”

That smile remained fixed in place. “Of course. And you, miss?”

Autumn intended to abstain until she was free of Chase. The last thing she needed was her defenses to weaken. “I’m fine—”

“She’ll have a glass of white wine,” Chase interrupted huffily.

Still focused on the attendant, Autumn shook her head. The attendant gave her a brisk nod. “I’ll be right back with your whiskey, sir,” she said and made her escape.

Chase turned to Autumn. “Are you gonna be like this the whole trip?”

“Like myself? I assume so, yes.” She took a calculated risk and asked, “What is it you’re expecting of me?”

He stared at her like he’d never seen her species before. “That you’d take that stick out your cute little ass at some point and have fun! I’m starting to think you’re not capable of fun. I sure as hell’ve never seen it.”

Autumn closed her laptop and checked her watch. She had been trapped with Chase since his car had picked her up this morning. With the drive, the wait at the airport, the first flight, the rush to make their connection, and half of this flight, they’d been together virtually nonstop for more than six hours. Ahead of them was the rest of the flight, another airport, collecting their rental car—which he insisted they share—and a two-hour drive to Signal Bend. It had been literal years since she’d been in continuous company with one person for so long, and she was already so tired of Chase’s company she could weep.

He was her boss. She loved her job—not today she didn’t, but in general she loved her job. Especially now, finally with enough power to develop whole programs and be in the room with the C-level brass when big decisions were made. She even finally had some sheen of her own.

MWGP was a major player in the region, and if she left her job, or got fired, and Chase decided to blackball her, he’d likely have some success. All these years, he’d stopped short (or she’d held him back) from crossing the line into harassment, so she had no evidence, no ammunition to use to defend herself if he did.

She supposed she could try to collect evidence on this trip, bring her defenses down some and see if he crossed over, figure out a way to record it when he did, but that was risky business. Off the top of her head she could think of a dozen things that could go very wrong and land her in big trouble.

There might be a viable argument that she’d brought this on herself a bit, trying to manage Chase by giving him small doses of what he wanted—dressing and wearing her hair the way he liked when she was in the office, for instance—so he’d stay out of the way of her work and support her advancement.

Even as she had the thought, she recognized it as the kind of self-blame women all too often defaulted to when a man was being a sexist jerk. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling, but she knew it for what it was.

She also could not shake the cringe of Chase’s attention, and she could not tolerate this constant barrage of schoolboy pouting and wheedling. The man was in his mid-forties, and he’d been huffing and pouting and acting out like this since she’d refused to let him feed her a strawberry.

So she turned to him now, brain running at full speed, trying to pick each word so it accomplished what she needed for this trip without risking what she needed for the rest of her life.

“This is a business trip, Chase. We’re colleagues. I enjoy my work, but I’m working. My focus is on doing that well. I have fun on my own time, when I can relax.”

A condescending smile curved his lips. “Oh, kiddo. At this rate, you’re going to burn out and melt down before you’re forty.” He reached out and pushed her hair behind her ear. Autumn was too surprised to shrink away from his touch. “I’d hate to see that,” he added in a murmur.

“Don’t touch me like that, Chase.” The word please was queued up, ready to end the sentence, but she bit down and didn’t let it loose. She was not asking.

His hand dropped away. “You say we’re colleagues, but you’re not very collegial.”

The flight attendant returned with his drink. Chase shifted to face forward again. He arranged his drink on his tray, got his AirPods out, and went back to Succession.

Unsure whether to be relieved or worried, Autumn opened her laptop and got back to work.

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

By the time they deplaned in St. Louis, Autumn had lost count of Chase’s drinks. His cheeks were flushed and he’d grown very friendly with every attractive young woman who paused in his path, but he was neither reeling nor slurring.

He kept putting his hand on Autumn’s back, ‘leading’ her in directions she was already headed, down the concourse, to the baggage claim, then to the rental car shuttle, and so on. Since she’d put him in a snit by insisting that they were working, not playing on this trip, and he was considerably more intoxicated now, she was back to managing him. She tried to be more subtle about resisting his touch, simply walking faster, away from his hand, or finding a reason to make more distance between them.

They bickered quietly at the car rental, when he tried to make himself the only driver. It was bad enough that she was stuck with him for the whole trip; she was not about to give him the power to strand her anywhere.

Also, there was no way he was driving right now. That, she said out loud. “No, Chase. You’ve been drinking all day, so I’m driving.” She set her license on the counter so the agent could note her details.

“I don’t ride shotgun with any woman,” Chase declared.

---