At that moment, Clarissa bursts in the room like she ran the whole way. Like she was afraid I’d be in here murdering Holly.
She skids to a halt when she sees me looming over Holly and several other people skid to a halt behind her. It’s practically a pileup on the highway.
“Holly, are you alright?” Clarissa looks from Holly to me to Rodrigo and back to Holly. Then she widens her eyes significantly and jerks them in my direction.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She turns her chair—my chair!—to face the door and flashes one of those serene smiles of hers, the kind that makes strangers melt into puddles of goo. She tips her head to look around Clarissa at the other people who came too. “Hey, Stan. Jill. Dave! I haven’t seen you in so long. How is Gail?”
She greets each of the people like they’re old friends. Maybe they are, since her ex used to work in this building. Still, I’ve worked here for four years and barely recognize them.
This is not something I’d normally feel self-conscious about because I’m here to work, damn it, not socialize. And I don’t have the time or energy to keep track of a bunch of strangers.
“We’re doing a little informal survey here.” She unfolds her legs and stands.
Since I don’t move—why should I when this is my fucking office?—this puts her within arm’s reach again.
“You guys all know Dr. Ramsey, right?”
They all nod and make noises of acknowledgement.
Okay, they clearly all do know me. So now I feel like an ass.
I glower down at Holly. This is her fault.
“I have a question. Do Max’s badly fitting clothes, ridiculous beard, and general appearance make him look like a homeless person or not?”
As if to illustrate her point, she reaches up and plucks at the shoulder of my jacket.
Clarissa, Jill, and Rodrigo all nod and agree. One of the men—Stan, I think, who is starting to look familiar—gives a loud, “Yes. Hell, yes.”
Only Dave gives a shrug and says, “It’s not too bad.”
Stan just shakes his head. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement from a man wearing a short-sleeved shirt and clip-on tie.”
Rodrigo chuckles.
Holly shrugs her shoulders. “See? Five out of six people think you look homeless.”
“I do not look homeless,” I growl.
She just shakes her head, making a shooing gesture to the other people indicating she’s done with them and they start to leave. “At worst, you look homeless. At best—absolute best—maybe a young Hagrid.”
“Who the hell is Hagrid?” I ask.
Already on his way out, Dave turns back to say, “I think he’s over in Poultry Sciences.”
Holly rolls her eyes again. “Dave, you have three kids! You should know who Hagrid is!”
When she looks back at me, I can see the remnants of that sassy eye roll in her gaze. It feels wrong that she looks so fucking good when she’s annoyed.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s not emotionally healthy to be so attracted to someone who doesn’t like me.
Not that I’d ever have a chance with someone like her, even if she did like my personality. She could think I was made of puppies and rainbows and she still wouldn’t want to fuck me.
I am, in fact, two hundred percent sure of that.
Holly props her hands on her hips and says, “You can glare at me like that all you want. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Glare at you like what?”
