Page 46 of Branded
In concern.
“Smitty?” he asked.
I sucked in a breath, released it on a five-count, slowing the spinning.
He let me do that, didn’t push further, and because it was Oliver—and also, maybe because it was about Smitty—the coil unwound. It relaxed.
It disappeared.
“He thinks we’re meant for each other.”
Oliver sat back in his chair, both brows lifting high. “Man doesn’t mess around, does he?”
That had me chuckling, nerves creeping. “No, apparently not.” I pushed back my bangs. “I mean, I know it’s probably inappropriate or I should have checked with HR first.” More nerves. “Shit, I mean, is there some sort of fraternizing paperwork I need to be filing? I—I—we only kissed once but last night—” I clamped my teeth together before I blurted out what had happened on the phone the previous evening, but my gaze caught on the cookbook, and I felt my cheeks flare.
“Kailey?”
“Yeah?” I asked, seizing the book and shoving it into my desk drawer.
“No one cares if you date Smitty.”
My head shot up.
“So long as you’re both consenting adults and stuff doesn’t get weird if it doesn’t work out,” he said. “Then no one cares. Hell, Luc dates head counsel. I’m with Hazel. Marcel is with Pru, who’s in charge of development. Consent. Happy. No drama at work, and everyone’s cool, okay?”
Lungs feeling like they were in a vice, albeit one that was slowly releasing, I nodded. “Okay.”
“Now,” he said, lips beginning to turn up at the corners. “When are we going on a double date?”
A knock at the door drew my gaze several hours later.
I’d been in full focus mode for ages, so glancing up and blinking at whoever was knocking was like stepping out into the bright sunshine, and it took a hot minute for my eyes and brain to focus.
On Hazel.
She held a bag.
“I hate to interrupt the flow,” she said. “But it’s well past lunch and Oliver mentioned that he’d given you something new to work on.”
My brows pulled together.
Hazel smiled. “He also mentioned that you tend to be singularly focused when working on a new project.” She jiggled the bag, the paper crinkling. “So, here’s me singularly focusing you on a bit of sustenance before you get back into it.”
My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond to that.
It was thoughtful.
And really sweet.
Both of which were quintessentially Hazel.
But I was hard-pressed to remember a time when I’d experienced thoughtful and sweet.
Sharp, sharp words. Tiptoeing through a kitchen. A smack to the side of the head. Hair being pulled.
That was reality.
Not this.
