I push the food around my plate with my fork.
“I said, don’t you like it?” Rebecca says as if repeating herself.
“Huh?” I look up in a daze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” I quickly shovel a mouthful in. “Of course I like it. This is my favorite.”
Daniel watches me. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Because you’ve hardly said two words since you got home.”
“Tired, I guess.” I shrug, not wanting to tell them the news that Elliot Miles licked my thigh in the sauna and wants sex with no strings and I’m not allowed to see anyone else and he has a big dick and this whole month is turning into a fucking disaster.
“Have you heard from Elliot?” Rebecca asks.
I shake my head. “No,” I lie. I’m embarrassed about his indecent proposal. I don’t want to have to explain the situation because, quite frankly, I don’t understand it myself.
“What about your online crush, Edgar?” Daniel asks.
“No.” I chew my food. “I haven’t spoken to him either.”
I’m lying up a storm here tonight.
Why wouldn’t I? When Edgar told me that it wasn’t a grand love affair and that it was just a horizontal crush-boy, he wasn’t lying. It’s not even a steamy affair . . . it’s a business transaction of seminal fluid.
“He’s an ass,” Daniel replies. “This is why you’re down.”
“I’m not down,” I huff. “Elliot Miles is nothing to me.”
Okay, maybe a little down.
When Elliot told me he wanted me, for a moment there it was exciting and new and a way to get myself out of this rut. Hell, putting ice down his pants was the highlight of my year. But now that I know that he sees me as a walking vagina . . . his crush has lost its shine.
And what’s worse, I’m actually considering it. I know it’s stupid, I know that he’s going to turn out to be an asshole and that I’m probably going to get fired, or hurt.
Worse still, both.
I remember back to the sauna, with him on his knees between my legs, and I get a flutter in my stomach, but he’s just so . . .
He makes me feel something, and even if it’s bad, it’s still a feeling.
I now realize I’ve been numb for years and that if I want to come back to being myself, maybe Elliot is a good stepping stone to get there.
I continue to eat in silence as Daniel and Beck talk about some new Pilates app they have downloaded.
My mind wanders off on a tangent again . . . I like Edgar. He’s sweet and intelligent and swoony but then I remember who he really is.
I don’t need a complication like Elliot Miles in my life. Far from it, I’m not a young girl blinded by lust with doe-in-the-headlight eyes. I don’t need my boss going down on me in the work sauna to feel alive.
I know better.
But . . . my boss going down on me in the work sauna . . . even that statement turns me on.
I’ve got fucking issues.
I’m finally just getting my shit together . . . I’ll be going backwards by falling into bed with someone as gorgeous and dominant as him.
It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
“You like him, don’t you?” Rebecca says as she directs the conversation back to me.
“Who?” I act dumb.
They both roll their eyes. “Elliot Miles.”
“I don’t know him, and why are you two going on about this all night?”
“Sorry.” Rebecca widens her eyes.
We continue eating.
“You’ve got your work Christmas party tomorrow night, haven’t you?” Beck asks to change the subject.
“Just drinks in the office. What have you guys got on?”
“I’m sleeping at Brett’s,” Rebecca answers.
“I’m going home to see my folks for a few days,” Daniel says. “My mum is a bit down.”
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“She had cancer this year and it’s taken its toll. I’m going home to help her wrap and prepare for Christmas Day. My father is useless.”
I smile as I put my hand over Daniel’s on the table. “You’re a good man, you know that?”
“Well, there’s only me this year-my sister’s deployed and won’t be home until February.”
“She’s in the navy, right?” I ask.
He nods proudly. “She’s a badass. Could totally kick my butt.”
We chuckle.
“You’re having Christmas Day lunch here for your brother and sister, right?”
I nod. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.”
“Not so much now?” Daniel asks.
“Ugh, I haven’t even thought about what I’m cooking. It’s all just too hard.”
“Well, I’m only going away for two days and then I’ll come back and help you prepare the food. I don’t leave to go home until Christmas Eve, and we could have most of it done before I go.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I smile.
“Babe, what else am I going to do? Being at home for more than two days drives me crazy and tomorrow is my last day at work. We can work out a few recipes over good wine.”
I smile, grateful for my new friend, and turn my attention to Rebecca. “What are you doing for Christmas Day again Beck?”
“I’ll be refereeing fights with my dysfunctional family.” She sighs.
We smile as she continues.
“You know, you would think that when your parents get divorced the shit show stops. But no . . . they get new fuckwit partners and you get to have a double shit show with whipped cream and extra topping.”
We all chuckle.
Daniel raises his glass and we both touch it with ours. “To Christmas, the ultimate shit show.”
“To Christmas.”
It’s just gone 11 a. m. and I sit down at my desk with a cup of coffee. My email pings.
Elliot Miles.
Hello Kathryn,
I’d like a meeting with the ITM team please.
All of you in my office in thirty minutes.
Elliot.
“Shoot.” I get up and walk into the office next to mine. “Bob, did you just get the email from Elliot?”
Bob looks up from his computer. “I haven’t checked, hang on.” He opens his email and scrunches up his nose. “Yep.” His eyes come back to me. “You think it’s about the internet crash last week?”
“Of course it is.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not in the mood for this today.”
Bob exhales heavily and then Joel pops his head around the doorjamb. “Did you two get the email?”
“Yep.”
We all stare at each other for a moment. When you get a private email invitation to Elliot Miles’s office, it isn’t for a tea party and cake.
You are about to get in deep shit.
“If he starts on me today, I’m telling him to stick it,” Bob snaps.
“Stick what, exactly,” Joel teases.
“His stupid fucking job up his stupid fucking ass,” Bob replies.
“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” Joel replies. “You know the drill, just let Kate do the talking.”
Bob nods in agreement.
Wimps.