Page 75 of The Wedding Deal
It took her a second to realize he was referencing her comment about the coffee, and she laughed again. Not quite as hard, but there was a flicker of happiness that lasted a good five seconds before fading.
They made a quick stop in the kitchen, and after tasting the creamer—although he’d used significantly less than she had—he announced he liked it. “Ooh, crackers shaped like Texas! How cool are those?”
“Help yourself,” she said, and damn it, now she was thinking of Lance and that morning he’d complained all their budget must be going to crackers.
As she and Sean talked, though, she was glad she’d pushed for him. If he was even half as enthusiastic on the field as in the office, the Mustangs were in good hands.
They continued down the hall to his office, her stupidly happyclack, clack, clackmixing with Sean’s heavier footsteps. Her stomach crawled way up to her throat as they neared Lance’s office, only returning to where it belonged when he wasn’t inside.
Thank goodness.Their first interaction was going to be hard enough without someone else looking on, and she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure if she’deverbe ready. “Here you go. Right side, fourth door down from the kitchen, just to help you remember.”
“Ah, you’re assuming I can count to four,” Sean said, and she smiled. He really was charming. Not for her—and not just because she’d learned her lesson about dating coworkers and was going back to her no-football-guys decree—but she hoped they could be friends.
“If you need office supplies, let the receptionist know, and she’ll put in an order.”
“Thanks.”
“Charlotte.” It came from her right, his voice caressing her skin even as it scraped her raw.
Her heart beat too shallow and fast, and dizziness set in. She’d been better prepared for the inevitability of seeing him while seated in her office, where she would’ve had the desk between them. Since there wasn’t anything to shield herself with or create space, she made do with her arms, crossing them in front of her chest and hoping they’d hold her together.
Looking directly at him would be too painful, so she merely glanced in his direction. “Oh, good, you’re here. Coach Bryant was just getting settled in. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
Lance caught her arm instead of letting her stride by, the bastard. All her walls, and all the tape and glue she’d used to put herself together—mostly ice cream and tirades against men—all of it crumbled under his steady blue eyes.
“You haven’t returned any of my calls,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“Business?”
The line of his jaw tightened. “Damn it, Charlotte—”
She tugged her arm free and aimed a smile at Sean. “If you want to go into your office, Mr. Quaid will be in shortly. We just need to iron out a few details.”
“You’ll be okay?” he asked, his expression conflicted as he glanced from her to Lance. She appreciated how he was ready to step in if she needed him, even if it meant causing trouble with his new boss.
“I’m fine, I promise.”
Sean slowly backed into his office, but he left the door open, and she was suddenly aware of how many people were around, of all the windows and hallways, and all the eyes on them.
It was good. She would need to avoid places where they’d be alone for a while—forever if the vise squeezing her heart and lungs into a pancake of despair was any indicator. “Coach Bryant’s signed all the necessary paperwork and is ready to get started. I’ve emailed you anything I felt was urgent, so just email me back when you’ve read my messages and I’ll take it from there.”
Lance’s gaze bored into hers. “I don’t want the robot. I need you. The woman from the beach who wasn’t afraid to tell me when I was a jerk. And I was a jerk—more than that, I was every inch the asshole you accused me of being. I’m sorry that I jumped to all the wrong conclusions. Gavin told me that the press contacted his mom and she was the one who spilled the information. I should’ve never accused you, should’ve never gone through your phone, and I regret the way we left things.”
Breathe in, breathe out.She took a step away from him, working to rebuild the wall around her emotions, although the pulverized remains no longer fit into place very well. “I’m glad you got to the bottom of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”
“That’s it? You’re just going to walk away like nothing happened?” His voice echoed through the area.
She spun back to him. “You probably didn’t read the consensual romance in the workplace contract as thoroughly as you should’ve. It states that we’ll act professionally toward each other at all times, even if the relationship has ended.” To her dismay, her voice broke, and she worked to steady it. “Furthermore, we’ll respect the other person’s decision and agree not to engage in unprofessional or inappropriate efforts to resume the relationship or participate in other conduct toward the person that could violate section three of the handbook.”
“Trying to explain my side—trying to apologize—is inappropriate?”
“It is in the middle of the hallway with our coworkers looking on,” she gritted out, hoping that to everyone else they simply appeared to be having a business dispute.Yeah, fat chance.
“Fine. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“No, thank you.”
“Tomorrow.”
