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It’s Drew, and unless I miss my guess, there’s fresh coffee somewhere in this room, too. The possibility is enough to get my eyes open.
“What time is it?” I ask, rolling toward him to stretch. He watches with pointed interest, and I remember too late that I’m not wearing pajamas. When I try to pull the covers back up, he yanks them away.
Cooper appears at the door, whistling when he sees me.
“That’s a sight I could get used to,” he says, his voice rich with appreciation.
“You and me both,” says Drew. “To answer your question, it’s early. Not even seven yet.”
“Then why the hell are you both already dressed?”
“We’re going downstairs to catch Mr. Greeley before he makes any more stupid accusations,” says Cooper, his face going carefully blank.
That’s right. Drew’s job is on the line. Cooper’s, too, though he’s been quick to gloss that over any time it’s come up in conversation the last twelve hours.
“We probably won’t be back up before call at eight,” says Drew. “Think you can manage to get to the conference level on your own?” The worry on his face isn’t for me, that much I know.
“I think I can handle it,” I say, sitting up and wrapping my arms around him before he can get up off the bed. Drew tolerates the hug for a second, breathing deep before he wraps his arms around me tight, squeezing me hard.
“It’s going to be all right,” I whisper.
“I’m not so sure,” he whispers back. “Cooper’s contract—”
“Enough about my contract,” says Cooper in normal tones. Drew fixes his eyes on the wall behind me.
“If I get you fired—”
“Pretty sure you weren’t the only one backstage that day,” says Cooper. I don’t like the blank look he’s holding onto like a mask, but I think I get it. Coop has a hard time letting other people in, and I suspect if his emotions are involved it’s that much harder for him to let go. It makes me wonder just what it is he’s holding back. And from whom.
If my heart thrills a little at the possibilities, at the implications… well, I stomp that bitch right back to her corner and tell her to shut it.
“Gotta run,” says Drew, squeezing me and kissing me softly. Coop comes over beside the bed to do the same.
“See you downstairs, Ross,” Coop says, making it a leer and wagging his eyebrows to make me smile.
“Not if I see you first, Lawson.”
Drew rolls his eyes, and the door clicks shut behind them as they go.
The shower is my third in twenty-four hours, but I revel in it anyway, taking note of every slight bruise and red fingertip-shaped mark on my body. They’ll fade before the day is out, but for now I wallow in the memories they bring. I’m finally forced to pull my clothes on as the clock ticks closer to eight. Halfway through drying my hair, my phone rings. I frown at the display.
“Mr. Heckman, good morning,” I say. The bank doesn’t open for another hour. I can’t imagine what would have him calling me now.
Then I remember the email I sent him so impulsively, changing my availability.
“Ms. Ross,” he says. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Pardon?”
“I have an email here claiming that you need to change your availability,” he says sternly. “Ring any bells?”
“I sent you an email about changing my schedule, yes,” I say slowly.
“Are flexible hours listed in the terms of your employment contract?”
I don’t exactly have a contract, unless he’s talking about the generic employee paperwork I signed when I started at the bank, so I don’t say anything.
“I can assure you, that is not a condition of your employment,” he continues. “I’m calling to inform you that your request for reduced hours has been denied. Now. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
