Page 16 of Crude Heir

I’m several paces in before I realize I’m still carrying my lunch bag. I stop and turn around, heading toward the break room, which is in the opposite direction. It’s nothing fancy, a plain ham and cheese sandwich, but I don’t want it to go to waste.

I earn enough here to afford something grander or to go to one of the restaurants in the tunnels, I prefer to pack my meal. This is a temp job, which can end at any moment. I’d rather save the money while I can, just in case. Besides, as muggy as it was this morning, it probably means the day is going to be horrible out.

I walk into the kitchenette, triggering the sensors which turn on the overhead lights. Opening the refrigerator door, I set my bag on the top shelf. It’s empty, except for an array of condiments, another reminder that most people are out today.

I consider making a pot of coffee, but it would likely go to waste. If ever there was a time I needed help to get going, it’s now. After staying up until the wee hours for two nights in a row,I need the caffeine boost to jump-start the morning. Instead, I turn to the cooler for a soft drink before heading to my desk. It’ll have to do.

As I near my office, the phone starts ringing. I quicken my steps and set my things down as I grab my phone.

“Hey, Nicole,” the familiar voice comes through the line. “It’s Mike again.”

“Hi.” I paste on a smile, the only way I can think of to try and keep the question out of my voice. Though I’m wondering what he could want.

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Oh…” I hesitate, pushing a stand of hair over my ear. “I—”

“There’s tacos in the kitchen up here, in case you’re interested.”

My shoulders relax. While it isn’t unusual to get word there’s food on one of the other floors, I’m not usually one to get a phone call. “Thanks.” I take a seat, intending to pass on the offer.

“Derrick was hungry and decided to order for everyone.”

“Derrick?” I run my teeth over my bottom lip.

“The director,” he clarifies. “Derrick Stockton.” He says it like he expects that any female in the company wouldn’t know the office hottie.

“I just…”I was biting my lip just thinking about him. “Didn’t think any of the managers would be in today.”

“Oh yeah,” he replies, understanding my supposed confusion. “Actually”—he lowers his voice—“he looks like he’s hung over or something. But he had a bad night.”

That sobers me up. Yes, from the sounds of it, he was going to have a long night. It seems silly that I’d want to check on him, but I do. “Okay, if there’s enough, I’ll head up.”

“There’s plenty of food. If there’s anyone else around, let them know,” he offers. “The messenger shows everyone as Away, so they may not be in yet.”

“It’s a little early for this department,” I confirm.

“All right. Then head up.”

“On my way.” I hang up and put my purse away before heading out to the elevator and going up to the next floor. I let myself in through the glass doors, and I’m met with the wonderful aroma of freshly made coffee.

Thank goodness someone took the initiative to turn on the coffee maker. It was a struggle to get out of bed at five a.m. to get to the office by my seven o’clock start time.

I round the corner to find a man at the counter. Derrick. Tall and broad shouldered, clad a black pullover and jeans instead of the button-down shirts and ties he’s been wearing lately. He glances over his shoulder at me.

“Morning.” His voice is even deeper than normal and rough, making my pulse flutter. Likely a result of him not getting much sleep.

My cheeks warm as I return his greeting. “Good morning. Did you, um, manage to get any rest last night?”

“Some,” he replies simply then turns to face me. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he goes back to pouring his coffee. “How about you?”

“Yes, I was exhausted.” The only reason I’m early is that there was hardly any traffic on the highway, likely due to the upcoming holiday weekend. My usual drive was cut down to nearly half the time.

I shift my weight awkwardly, hyperaware of his attention focused on me.

Being around Derrick makes me inexplicably nervous, stirring up thoughts I really shouldn’t be having about him, or anyone else I work with. Poor guy, he was probably hunched over his computer half the night trying to fix the system failures the West Coast had last night. Meanwhile I was having wildly inappropriate fantasies about him.

I clear my throat, aiming for a light, casual tone that doesn’t give away my inner turmoil. “Well, hopefully the technical issues are all resolved now, and we won’t have any more disruptions today.”

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