Page 2 of Jett

“It’s in this inbox, somewhere.” He’s clearly irritated, and I’m not surprised that he hasn’t yet found it.

His body brushes against mine as he shifts back slightly, our hands touching for the briefest of seconds. Every nerve in my body lights up like a firework. This man is all hard muscle, and my skin tingles where we touched. I’m not sure if he even noticed, but I’m too stunned to move. It reminds me of that time he comforted me, when he wrapped his arms around me and held me in my darkest moment.

Eliana would kill me if I told her about this.My best friend and roommate has been telling me to quit for over a year. She knows the full extent of my Jett-induced condition. Iwillleave. I have to. For my sanity, if nothing else. It just hasn’t happened yet. I’ve been grieving, unable to step out of my comfort zone and do something new. Take the next step. Up until a few months ago, it was sheer torture just to get out of bed and get myself to work.

I miss my mom so much, but I am slightly better now. I can make it to the office and back, sometimes without thinking about her during my workday. She still haunts me at night, and there are mornings when I wake up and think she’s still here.

It was really for my mom that I stayed on here. I needed this job, and Jett was really good about letting me have time off when I needed to be with her. He has his good moments, and he’s really not so bad.

Despite his arrogance, despite how infuriating he can be, I’ve seen glimpses of his heart. He adores his daughter, Brooke, and seeing him with her was enough to keep me tethered here, even when everything in me screamed to run.

“I’ve found it,” I whisper, pointing to the screen as Jett continues his conversation with his brother. I glance up at him as he bends down, his gaze flicks ever-so-quickly to my lips.

Oh my goodness.He really did that. It's too much, him being so close, looking at my lips. My heart leaps inside my ribcage and I spring up out of his chair, knocking the coffee cup over in my haste.

My insides deflate in dismay just as quickly as the dark liquid bleeds across the desk, seeping into the edges of his diary. “Shit.”

“Cari!” He lets out a frustrated cry, but there’s something else there, something weary. “What the hell?” He looks down at the spill, his expression blank, but I hear the disappointment in his voice loud and clear.

I can be such a klutz sometimes.

“I’m sorry.” I scramble to fix the mess, my fingers trembling as I burn with humiliation. I always turn into a quivering wreck in front of him. He's so mature, and so composed. I can't do anything right in his eyes. If only I were as cool and as glacial as Alicia. Heat tinges my cheeks like a pubescent teen and I'm horrified by what I’ve done. In my panic, I grab the edge of my dress and use it to frantically mop up the coffee.Brilliant move, Cari. Brilliant.

I glance up to see Jett staring at my exposed leg. He quickly clears his throat and looks away, not saying a word. He’s already back at his computer as the meeting with his father starts.

Paul Knight’s voice booms through the speakers, setting the tone for what I know is going to be a long, painful day for Jett.

And probably for me, too.

Chapter 2

JETT

My assistant can be a bit ditzy at times, but she's usually very efficient, and she's the reason I function as well as I do. She organizes and fixes things for me. I rely on her too much.

Then there are moments when she gets distracted. Her mom's passing six months ago hit her hard. I understand it, though. I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother.

I was right there by Cari’s side after her mother lost the fight for her life. I’d been awful to her. A huge deal I desperately needed was stalled at the last moment because she missed something, and I unleashed my fury. I should have picked up on what she missed because she was going through such a tough time. I had no idea that her mother was lying in the hospital sick with an infection which spiraled into sepsis and took her life. I rushed to the hospital only to see ?Cari fall apart.

I'm usually the last person to offer comfort, except to Brooke. But that day, I couldn't bear to watch Cari wrapping her arms around herself, as if she were trying to keep from falling apart. Tears streamed down her pale face, and I couldn't stand there and do nothing. I pulled her to me, and she melted against my chest. I hugged her tight and tucked her head under my chin. She was so small and fragile in my arms, and she broke into pieces while I held her.

That day is etched into my brain forever.

I don’t yell at her for fun. She probably thinks I do it more since her mom passed, but that's not what’s going on. There are moments where I see Cari drift off to another place. I know when it happens because I see grief crawling over her, winding its heavy vines and rooting her in sorrow. In those moments I try to do something,anything, to evoke an emotion other than the heartache and suffering she's feeling. It works, because I see it. I see how my words and my moods incite a spark back into her eyes. They make her react, give her a fire and animation that’s a million times better than her drifting around the office with a blank expression. I will take Cari’s anger any time over her bottomless misery.

So I do my best to elicit a reaction, because anything is better than seeing her heartbroken.

But she is a dichotomy. One moment she's a super-organized tower of efficiency who I'd be lost without. But some days I get theotherCari. Like the one who just tipped over my coffee cup and then mopped it up with her dress.

I didn't need to see her bare leg. Not as I'm about to start a meeting with my overbearing father. At times like this I need to be on my A game, and sometimes, Cari knocks me right off it.

I stare at the computer screen, at my father's cold face, and I listen. But my office smells of coffee, and it’s hard to focus.

“I don't like it,” my father says, pulling me back into the meeting. Thankfully, Zach is also on this one.

“What's not to like?” I try to mask my irritation. I caught the gist of what he was saying. Our father distrusts everyone and everything. Hell, I’m the same way, probably more like him than I’d care to admit. Alicia once said that, along with every other woman I’ve introduced to the old man.

“I don’t trust them, but that’s because I don’t know them.Yet.?Is that the time?” my father grumbles, glancing at the corner of the screen.

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