Page 105 of Altius
“But my family can be a lot—”
The ironic amusement in his gaze brought me up short.
“Right. And yours is a basket of puppies.” Mushing my pillow into a more comfortable shape, I asked, “What’s the latest with Roddy?”
“Chaz will announce his departure—not firing, mind you—on the afternoon of the thirty-first. He’s hoping the news will get buried by New Year’s.”
“Waiting so long seems risky. What if the shareholders go public first?”
Cal shrugged. “Then Chaz deserves it. Especially since he’s giving Heather the runaround. He won’t even appoint her as the interim VP.”
“Wow. That’s low.”
“Well, that’s Chaz for you. But enough about him.” Cal perched his round glasses on top of his sandy hair and leaned closer to the camera, staring at me with blatant expectation. “Don’t you have something to ask me?”
“Uh…” My mind was blank despite Cal asking variations of the same question for the past few days. I had nothing. “What are we going to do about the consulting offers?”
“Whatever you want. Now, try again.”
Rummaging through my fleeting memories, I ignored the besotted voice that kept calling me baby. Ducked the world’s most kissable lips. Made a sharp U-turn at the first devilish moan and tamped down the mortifying suspicion that I’d forced a pair of cold, elegant hands to fondle my sweaty breasts. Thus, I arrived at the only conclusion available to me—a shadowy point of no return.
I’d said something monumental to Cal, maybe even monumentally stupid, in the throes of my heat.
And I was too embarrassed to admit I couldn’t remember what it was.
“What time do you think you’ll be here tomorrow?” I asked quietly as I set my tea aside, hoping he’d take pity on me.
But Cal had no such inclinations. He just laughed—and reaffirmed that the five of them would arrive at noon sharp.
Emphasis on the sharp.
A few minutes after we hung up, the door to my room swung open. Rory came bounding in, holding my credit card, still wearing the flannel pajamas he’d been in all day, with an assortment of shiny bows stuck to his shirt and hair.
He dropped onto the bed and threw his arms around me.
“Thank you, thank you,” he said, holding me tight. “Knew I was your favorite.”
“You ordered the printer you wanted?”
“Yup.” After a final squeeze, he let go and returned my card. “Having it delivered to your place, though. Don’t trust it’ll be safe at the dorm during break.”
“Okay—but it can’t live there.”
“Not even in Kelsey’s studio?” he asked.
I gave him a flat stare over the rims of my glasses.
“Fine, fine. Whatever you say, boss.” He paused, peering out into the hallway, then gave me a sly poke in the arm. “You’ve still got an open-door policy, right?”
“Unless it changed without my knowing in the past thirty seconds,” I said, setting my credit card on the nightstand beside my tea.
“Good. Because there’s someone else who wants to talk to you.”
Rory gave me another quick hug, which seemed more encouraging than thankful, rushing out as quickly as he’d come—narrowly avoiding a collision with Jenna, who was lingering outside my door.
It was the closest she’d come to approaching me in ten years.
The once stick-thin bookworm with puffs of curly hair and a gap in her front teeth was now a willowy young woman with flawless light brown skin, a nose ring, exquisite eye makeup, and long burgundy micro braids. Her slouchy olive sweater and leggings were a far cry from her favorite butterfly and rainbow pajamas growing up.
