Page 34 of Under Locke & Key
“Besides figuring out renovation, which again is my problem, I would like to visit a few escape rooms over the next few weeks in the area to get a feel for what they’re doing—what works and doesn’t and where there’s a gap in the market for specific ideas—that sort of thing. I’d appreciate it if you could come with me. Once we have a plan for where we’d like to go, I’d appreciate it if you could document our ideas, perhaps brainstorm some cool ways to integrate those with the software and app.”
Rachel nods. “So, when do you need me?”
Something traitorous inside my mind thinks of how soft and warm she was pressed against me, long dormant stirrings coming to life, and I have to take a sip of my own scalding tea—trying not to wince—before I can speak. It’s been so long since I’ve touched or been touched by anyone other than my loved ones.
“Tuesday? I’ve already monopolized the day off I promised. We could probably hit two or three rooms a week so we have time to debrief without having them all blend together. It might be best if I rope some other people in once we get closer to having something concrete so we can have a sounding board. You’re welcome to invite anyone along that you think might be able to help out. I’ll cover the costs.”
“That sounds great, even if it feels a little bit like spying.” She waits for me to sputter before she laughs at me. “Don’t worry. I’m not above spying. I have a few friends that I think might be helpful. One is another developer and he’s with a board game designer so they’d be perfect. My best friend is blunt as hell, so he’d be useful as well.” Rachel smiles as she mentions them, a softness to her, and I find I’m strangely nervous at the prospect of meeting the people that are meaningful to her.
“I’ll get in touch with them and see what works best. Maybe the end of the month or the beginning of next? May still gives us a good amount of time before the deadline,” she says.
“That would be great. I’ll probably drag my best friend Logan and his wife along. He’s a marketer and would be an asset when it comes to what might sound most appealing and easiest to sell.” I’ll just have to make sure Logan and Gabrielle are on their best behavior. The last thing I need is them meddling where they don’t belong.
“Perfect!”
“I’ll . . . I’ll pick you up Tuesday around ten?” It’s halting and I wonder if I’ll ever get good at talking to her, to anyone, and having it sound smooth.
“I’ll be ready.”
I down the rest of my drink, the herbal tea burning all the way down and rise, taking one last look at the space and her before I turn to leave.
“Bryce!” she calls out once my hand is on the door, ready to leave.
I twist around to look at her, a deep breath stuck between my ribs.
“Thanks for catching me.” Rachel’s smile is small but sweet, genuine.
“I’d say anytime but I really hope you don’t make a habit out of almost killing yourself. I’ll bring a ladder by. No more balancing acts, okay?” Our shared laugh spreads through me like sunlight and I’m a cat curled up in the beam. “I’ll see you soon, Rachel.”
“Soon,” she agrees.
Somehow I make it back to my car, and then home, and then onto the internet for the first local spot I can find to nab whatever tickets they have left for Tuesday. It’s not until later, with my tasks completed and my mind still abuzz with what happened at her apartment that I twist my ring off my finger and set it down onto my nightstand.
Ropingmy friends into this new endeavor was easier than I expected, or rather hoped, even though coordinating schedules for so many of us took the better part of the last month. We are solidly in May and the wait to see everyone and get their opinion has been difficult.
Heaven only knows how they’ll react to actually meeting Bryce in person now that they’ve been getting hints and asking questions about him for a couple weeks. Sebastian and Farren are excited to help out with the job, especially given how they both understand what leaving Lakin-Cole is like. Ángel on the other hand . . . Well, I’m not quite sure he’ll be able to keep his mouth shut. Everything from how my last job ended all the way through my relationship mishaps—he’s a landmine with a sensitive trigger. Multiple parts of my life are poised to collide tonight.
Taking a fortifying breath, I smooth my hands down my shirt and try to ignore how clammy my palms are. Bryce is on his way and after a few weeks of car rides and tentative escape room experiences, I feel like I’m ready to lose my mind. We haven’t gotten nearly enough done, and it’s been surprisingly difficult to scope out rival companies when their dates and times are all booked up. But I suppose that’s what we get for not planning as well as we could have. I’m still getting paid for the days I’m scheduled even though we haven’t been able to accomplish as much as we’d like. Sketching out some ideas in secret has filled the rest of the time and I can only hope that Bryce doesn’t get upset once I show them to him—given how premature they are.
Bryce has been apologetic, kind, and totally unaffected. The same can’t be said for me.
My clothes smell like him, the tiniest bit, traces from working so closely all month. My mind is filled with small, inconsequential things that shouldn’t matter but do. Like how he always opens doors for me, offering his hand when the terrain is uneven or there’s a significant step up or down as if he knows that I can be just the slightest bit clumsy. I can’t erase the way the brief impression of his hand against mine feels, especially not since he took off his wedding ring.
The tan line is still there, faint and fading daily, but somehow it feels significant that he removed it after our . . . mishap over my curtain fiasco. What a mess. He should’ve just let me fall on my ass. It would’ve saved me from knowing just how solid he is under those henleys and denim shirts. I need a stiff drink and a good orgasm, and since I’mnotgoing to get involved with my boss, both of those things will have to fall to me.
My phone buzzes in my hand, Bryce’s contact on the notification window.
Bryce
I’m downstairs. Do you need help with anything before we head out?
He’s taken to asking this every day, ever since he caught me and I lost my mind right along with my balance. It’s sweet. It’s unnecessary. It’s unfairly hot given that he’s just trying to do the right thing and I’ve taken him up on that offer already by letting him hang the curtain rods, his height making it a cake walk—withoutthe need of a ladder.
Don’t think about that now. You’re on the clock. Keep it in your pants.
I’m all good, thanks! Be right down.
Spring is in full swing, cherry blossoms have come and gone and branches with bright green leaves line the street. Colorful blooms spring up in the window boxes and front beddings. Businesses and homes alike seem to have embraced the longer and warmer days happily now that the clocks are set to a new time and the dark of winter is a distant memory. Floral wreaths decorate front doors and I’m tempted to get one myself for the downstairs door. But it feels so . . . domestic. I’ve never been one to decorate seasonally, or at all really. Dulaney just makes me feel like I can be different—more involved in life when I’m not chained to a desk for the majority of it.
