Page 38 of Hale Yes
I give him a slight shake of my head.Not sure.
But my lab manager continues, her focus solely on the young woman in front of her. “I never fit in at home. Then I got bumped up a few years in middle school, so I was a lot younger than my high school classmates. I used makeup to try and make myself stand out, to fit in. I used colors that were way too bold for me, and looking back, I know now I looked pretty ridiculous, but I felt good about myself at the time. You, Jordie, have the self-confidence to choose not to primp yourself to the nines just to go to the grocery store. I love that about you, and it makes you so relatable to young girls who may be struggling with finding who they are… who they want to be. So just have fun with it. Pick some soft colors. Pick some wild colors. Whatever catches your eye, even if you might not wear that color yourself, it’s okay. It will appeal to someone out there and maybe give them the confidence they need to be themselves.” She shrugs. “Maybe even someone like me whose brain was bigger than her boobs in high school.”
Jordie giggles, and Phoenix reaches over to close my lower jaw, which I hadn’t realized had dropped open during that little speech. Nicolette Bell had confidence issues? That shocked me to my core. She’s fucking brilliant and a very beautiful woman, though I guess being a pre-teen in high school would have been difficult. But what the hell was that about her family? They have got to be utterly proud of her and her accomplishments. I find myself wanting to know more.
After that, Jordie seems to relax and do exactly as Nicolette requested. She has fun choosing colors for the eyeshadows and then the lipstick line, and I can feel my twin’s tension ebb away. I know this ad campaign is important to him as the headof marketing, but it seems like he’s wholly invested in a more profound way. And I don’t miss the way his eyes never leave Jordie after we head over to the studio for the photo shoot. I, on the other hand, keep darting glances at Nicolette, who is standing behind the photographer at Jordie’s request. The two seem to have bonded throughout the day, and I’m weirdly jealous of that. And that she asked Jordie and Phoenix to call her Nicolette, but I’m still calling her Dr. Bell… out loud anyway.
As I watch Nicolette joke around to make Jordie more comfortable, I’m becoming more and more intrigued by her. She’s smart and personable, and she was one hundred percent on the money with her makeup suggestions. Jordie looks both approachable and fierce in her black-and-purple Dragons uniform.
I have to root my feet to the ground to keep from walking over and pulling all the pins from Nicolette’s hair to see what she would look like with it down and wrapped around my fist.
Fuck me. I shift on my feet to accommodate the growing bulge behind the zipper of my black pants. Bending my lab manager over the closest flat surface while I bury my hands in those dark locks is the last thing I should be thinking about.
And yet I know that exact scenario will be playing in my mind later tonight when I’m alone in my bed.
For the next three weeks, I’m a rock of strength and determination at the lab. I work alongside Dr. Nicolette Bell while keeping my demeanor cool and detached.
What I do at night in my bed—and in the shower and once in the living room—is my own damn business.
The woman is a temptation without trying to be. I’m convinced this attraction is completely one-sided because she’s nothing if not professional. She’s absolutely brilliant, and her brain captivates me as much as her green eyes and those small curls that inevitably escape from her tight buns by the end of each workday. There are always a couple that frame her delicate face and sometimes one that coils against the nape of her neck.
What is happening to me? Why am I focusing on her stray hairs? I know the answer, but I’m doing my best to suppress it.
I stopped by my mom’s house after work today, and now I’m driving through Rice Village on my way home. It’s Friday, and I’m ready to relax and go for a swim. Until I see a figure that looks both familiar and foreign walking down the sidewalk. Familiar because I’ve memorized the curve of my lab manager’s hips when she walks and foreign because this woman is not wearing a bun. A riot of dark curls cascades down her back, and I can’t stop staring as I pass.
A horn honks, and I realize I’ve veered into the lane beside me. Jerking the wheel of my silver and black sports car, I whip into a parking space and watch her through my rearview mirror as she approaches. Yep, it’s definitely Dr. Nicolette Bell.
She stops in her tracks and looks around, her gorgeous curls bouncing around her shoulders as she swivels her head from side to side as if looking for something. Her gaze drops to her phone, and she frowns before searching the storefronts again.
She seems to be lost or something, and the sun will be setting soon. It would be wrong to not try and help. Right? Sighing at my transparent excuse, I exit my car and step up onto the busy sidewalk. The street is lined with shops and restaurants, the plate-glass windows emitting warm yellow lights that bathe passersby in softness.
Nicolette is looking at her phone again, giving me the chance to fully take her in. She’s wearing a red one-shoulder top and ablack pleated skirt that shows off her pale, creamy thighs. Her black patent leather Mary Janes have chunky heels that give her a couple inches of height, though she’s still a good six inches shorter than me.
She looks good… damn good.
Stay professional, Helix. You only stopped to see if she needs help. You’re a Good Samaritan. That’s it.
Yeah, that’s what I tell myself as I approach. “Dr. Bell?”
Her head jerks up and she blinks rapidly like she doesn’t recognize me at first. “Oh. Dr. Hale. Hi.” The August heat has a few beads of sweat pearling around her hairline, and she swipes them away with one palm.
“I was just passing by and thought I recognized you. Are you lost?”
She makes a huff of frustration and checks her phone again. “I’m looking for a Spanish restaurant called La Mariscada. The address Cruz gave me said it should be right here.”
First of all, who the fuck is Cruz? I’m irrationally angry at the thought she may be on a date. A muscle tics in my jaw, but I keep my tone even and conversational.
“Are you meeting someone?”
Nicolette nibbles on the corner of her lips, which are painted a darker shade than she normally wears to work. “No, I’m going to dinner by myself. It was a recommendation from a friend.”
That eases my tension slightly. “La Mariscada closed down a couple months ago,” I tell her, and she visibly deflates.
“Crap, I was looking forward to some Spanish food.”
I throw every bit of good sense I possess to the wind and say, “I know a good Spanish place. I can take you there.”
She looks surprised, which makes sense. We’ve never shared so much as a meal together in the month she’s worked at Hale Cosmetics. “Are you sure I’m not messing up your plans?”
