Page 42 of My Undead Heart
Ican’t believe I agreed to date Matt Haywood.Why would I do that?I can’t come up with a good explanation. Worse, it’s my own damn fault. I can’t back down or fall throughnow. That’s even more intimidating than admitting a tiny piece of me is scared shitless to go out with that beast of a man.
Dread, along with a little self-loathing, fill my mind during my Monday commute. The train ride unusually angst-inspiring as I make my way uptown. Our investors are flying in from LA for a presentation onProjectX this afternoon and dinner afterward, and there’s the sliver of fear that they won’t be satisfied with my work. I’ve poured so much of myself into this game over the past year—from conception to development—and I can only assume it’s the closest I’ll ever identify with parenthood. I’m so damn proud of my video game baby and I want others to acknowledge it’s perfect and wonderful, too.
My heeled boots click against the marble floor of our building, and I strip off my wool coat as the heat inside instantly kills the crisp cold from outdoors. Since the investors are in town, we all have to dress corporate casual this week. I don’t mind since it’s not an everyday thing. I look damn good in this outfit and these heels have magical powers. In them I feel fierce, and it helps that they add a good four inches to my stature.
It’s always entertaining to see who forgets or didn’t read their reminder email and shows up clad in faded denim. Jared and I actually have a running bet, and in my eight years with the company my record’s twelve for nineteen. If the new intern, Aarav, comes in wearing a pair of jeans and one of his ironic tees I’ll add another point to my bragging rights.
Straightening my pencil skirt in the elevator, I check to make sure none of the buttons are open on my blouse before I step off at the twelfth floor. I’ve almost forgotten about my stupidity from last night—almost—and decide to put the entire dating-my-hot-trainer-thing behind me for the rest of the day so I’ll stay focused. I’ve worked so long for this, a culmination of so many different puzzle pieces, and nothing can ruin it for me. Not even an overly attractive and infuriatingly nice man with an almost shared twisted sense of humor.Nope.
Starting up my computer, I check my email and go through my to-do list for the day.
“Hi, Mia. Ready to play with the big boys?” Nick stands at the opening of my cubicle.Nick the dick. Of course, he chooses now to stop by and chat. As if I need another reminder as to why dating is horrible for my health.
“Hey, Nick.”Go away,I have shit to do. Do I have to physically kick you in the nuts to get you to stay away? What did I ever see in you?All of these questions race through my mind and are suited to my feelings, but instead I go with something more socially acceptable. “What do you need?”
“I saw you come in. Thought maybe you’d like to grab a cup of coffee in the break room. You look ... really good.”
I was expecting a “When can we go over the budget,” or even “How was your weekend?” Instead, he’s so out of left field my mind has trouble processing, and for once I’m at a loss for words. “Uh ...”
He blows out a deep breath, straightens the frames of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and eyes me appreciatively. His lips tick up at the edges with his boyish smile. “I’m not gonna lie, in all my preteen Lois Lane days I never even imagined her as hot as you.”
Okay, we’re done. “Nick. There’s this thing called sexual harassment in the workplace. Don’t make me take a walk to HR.”
“God, it’s only a compliment.” His smile fades and he shakes his head as ifI’mthe one with a problem. “You used to appreciate things like that.”
Forcing my lips into a wide smile, I hold his stare. “Yeah, well, that was before I met your girlfriend. How’s she doing, by the way?”
His gaze drops to the industrial carpet and he kicks at it with the toe of his shiny leather shoes. “We ... uh ... broke up, actually.”
“Ah.” That actually explains a lot, but nothing I’m interested in exploring further. “Okay. Well, then, I should ...” I turn to go back to my computer but he cuts me off, stepping inside my workspace and holding my swivel chair motionless with one hand.
“Nick?” It’s sort of alarming how he’s staring at me. As if he’s going to try to kiss me or something. I flip through the different ways I can push him off of me if he does.
“Mia, I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Not expecting that.
“I care about you. I never meant to screw things up between us. I never meant for that to happen. But you’re so fucking perfect, and those tequila shooters didn’t help. I couldn’t stop what was happening between us and I realize now that I should have. Please tell me I still have a shot with you.”
A shot?What kind of crack did he smoke this morning?“You have a better chance of scoring a goal with your World Cup Soccer pinball machine. Nick, I don’t do cheaters.”
“I would never—”
“No. You would, ’cause you did already. With me. I don’t want to hear how I’m different or how you’ve learned your lesson. Save your breath. And please remove yourself from my office before I shove the heel of my shoe into your khaki pants.”
His doe eyes harden with my words and he steps back until he’s out of kicking reach. “Okay. Sure. I’ll go.” But he doesn’t. He stands there holding my stare as if he’s waiting for me to change my mind. I didn’t think he could be more of a dick, but I was wrong. “I think you’re making a big mistake,” he finally says.
“Bye, Nick!” I shout a little too loudly, and he glares before turning on his heel. He stomps toward his office, and I can’t help but add a little extra to insure he doesn’t decide to come back. “Be sure to use the cream or the itching only gets worse!” It’s immature, sure, but it brings me a sick sort of satisfaction when he drops his chin and scurries the rest of the distance before shutting his door with a slam.
Not thirty seconds pass before Jared’s at the entrance of my workspace, his hands on each side of the flimsy walls and blocking my escape.Gossip queen.I’m sure he was too busy listening through our shared wall to come save me. “So, Nick ...”
“Total fucking dick,” I growl and shake my head.
“He was right about one thing.” Jared’s eyes light with mischief and he steps over to my desk, leaning his hip against the top. “You’re rocking that outfit.Meow. Well done, Kitten. I wish I were straight so I could properly appreciate the conservative sexuality. Total nerd babe.”
When I don’t smile or laugh he pouts and pokes the tip of my nose with his finger, “What’s with the sour puss?”
I lean back into my chair, completely frustrated with myself. It’s not all Nick’s fault. He didn’t help, but it’s still the stupid bet with Matt. I exhale a harsh breath and groan before admitting what I know will only inflate Jared’s ego. “You were right ...”
