Page 11 of Persuading Liam

“For fuck’s sake, can I get a little privacy here?” I know the anger flaring in my words won’t fan the flames of their suspicion but it’s all I’ve got right now. “I’ve got work to do.”

Max looks at Elliot conspiratorially and I feel my entire body tighten in response to the coming barrage of ‘brotherly love.’ “I think you’re right. Maybe he has a little crush.”

“Little?” Elliot shoots back, talking loudly just to really drive the point home. “I’d say giant, judging by the twitch in his jaw.”

“You’re right,” Max agrees. “And the height of his shoulders suggests he isn’t quite sure what to do with a woman since he hasn’t had one in so long.”

Elliot tut-tuts. “Poor guy. I suppose we could give him a refresher.”

“For god’s sake,” I roar, standing up so fast my chair crashes into the wall behind me. “Get the fuck out of my office.”

Max and Elliot laugh, but it subsides quickly when I hear Gus reprimand them from the bar.

“There’s videos on the internet if you need some advice,” Elliot tosses me before he leaves my office and I very nearly hit him in the head with the stress ball that ended up on my desk one day. I strongly suspect Gus put it there after a heated conversation I had with Elliot that was almost overheard by customers.

I would never admit it to anyone, but I always use it.

Gus peeks her head in the door. “Doing okay?”

I inhale steadily so my voice sounds like I want it to. “Yes, if you don’t count the fact that I have two asshole brothers.”

“I never count that,” she says. She bends over, picks up the stress ball and tosses it back to me. “I don’t think throwing it is how it’s supposed to be used, but every man to himself.”

I catch it and collapse backwards in my chair when I’m finally, thankfully all alone.

Just like I like it.

7

MARLEY

Ipace the lobby, waiting for the cleaning crew to arrive the next day. I spent the day yesterday—after being scolded by Liam like a toddler—moving as many boxes as humanly possible. I collapsed face-first into my bed afterwards and slept through dinner.

At least Mr. Schuster is true to his word and an entire cleaning crew from Denver pile out of three vans right on time, unlike himself. In hours, they have the place sparkling. The floors and ceilings still need to be replaced and lots of renovation will be happening next week, but at least it isn’t as much of a health hazard as it was before they were here.

And after I heard a shriek from the bathroom, I’m glad I decided not to look in there before the crew came.

While they worked, I sat at my makeshift desk in the production room and started making a plan for what the newspaper might look like. I pulled old papers from the file cabinets to see what kind of news the Post used to cover and pulled the sections I liked and axed the ones I didn’t.

And even though I’m no graphic designer, I fiddled around with the header and updated it just enough for it to look fresh and old-timey all at the same time.

I head home around six after the last of the cleaning crew exits and walk the few blocks home. My heart slips into my throat as I climb the steps. Liam’s schedule at Redpoint is so unpredictable that I never know whether he’ll be home or not—which I suppose is normal for a brewery.

I don’t know why—especially after he scolded me for my mess yesterday—but I hope he’s home. I feel like I’ve barely gotten to see him, and I have no idea why, but I feel disappointed. I mean, sure he’s super easy on the eyes, but other than that, I barely know him.

Except for his flawless abs that I have now laid eyes on twice. Those, I know forward and backward because they have taken up residence in my brain and I’m fairly certain they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

I turn the key in the door and step in to find the apartment empty except for a hungry Steven who looks at me as if I had the nerve to starve him for eight solid hours.

“Hey, Steve-O,” I purr, patting him on the head.

He gives me an angry meow and chomps gently on my hand to tell me it’s not time for pets, but time for kibbles. “Yes, I know,” I tell him, setting my purse on the island before preparing Steve’s evening feast.

“How was your day?” I ask as I set the food and water down on the mat that has his name printed on it as if there’s a possibility it could be mistaken for anyone else’s feeding mat.

Ignoring me completely, he buries his face in the food bowl and I limp my way to my bedroom feeling every minute of today in my bones. My head hurts and as I strip out of my disgusting clothes, I realize my sinuses are full.

“Shit,” I whisper to no one. I’ve had a long history of sinus infections and my guess is that being at the Post while all the dirt and mold got kicked up today was not good for me. My bet is that tomorrow I’ll have a full-blown sore throat and cough and if I’m super lucky, swollen lymph nodes. At least there is nothing on the agenda tomorrow that dictates I need to be at the office.

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