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He bowed slightly, tucking one hand to his stomach and the other to his back. “You’re welcome.”
My office phone ringing had me rounding the desk and meeting his eyes in question. He waved his permission.
“Brooks,” I answered shortly.
“Kline, Kline, Kline.” Wes tsked in my ear.
Jesus. I didn’t know if I had the energy for both of them.
“This really isn’t a good time, Wes.”
“It never is—”
True enough.
“But I think you’ll want to hear this,” he taunted.
Like a starving fish, I took the bait on the line without question.
“What?”
“We just interviewed a new employee—”
Goddamn, everyone was making it their fucking mission to annoy me today. New conquests from one and new hires from the next, I had no desire to hear any of it.
“Wes—”
“Pretty little thing. Can’t be more than five one, five two, but by God, she’s got a body on her.”
My stomach jumped with excitement and roiled with sick all at once. He sat silent on the line, just waiting.
“You saw her?”
“Nope, not me. She’s in with the GM now. He wanted me to call and look into her references while she’s in there, though, seeing as he liked the girl so much and didn’t want to waste time getting an offer together.”
The words burned my throat as I said them. “You’re a fucking moron if you don’t hire her.”
“No kidding.”
I’d never wanted to slit the throat of a friend before, but I guessed there was a time and circumstance for everything.
Thatch looked on as I worked hard to compose myself. Sure, I had a plan, but I had no idea how she’d react. I could very well still be royally screwed.
If that was the case, I still wanted the very best for her.
“Just…look out for her, okay?” My voice didn’t even sound like my own, and Thatch looked away. The big fucking ox couldn’t stand it either.
“You know I will, dude.”
I nodded at the phone, too choked up to speak, and when it made me think of her, a single tear broke through the last goddamn barrier.
“Girl, it’s pandemonium here! Where in the hell have you been? Do you even know what’s going on?!” Dean shouted into my ear, not even offering a simple “Hello” or “How are you?”
I yanked the phone away from my face, my mouth contorting in pain.
Jesus, he was worked up about something. I could picture him pacing, his body vibrating with the need to tell someone whatever gossip he’d grabbed ahold of. If there was one thing Dean was great for when I was at…yeah, that place I’d rather never speak of again, it was keeping his ear to the ground and getting the down and dirty scoop on everything.
“Give me a minute, Dean. I’m trying to hear you over my ruptured eardrum.” I sat down at my new desk, in my new office.
Even though it was a great job with amazing benefits, and the salary alone had me blinking twice when my eyes scanned the contract, it still didn’t feel like home. I didn’t have that sense of relief I had hoped for. I just felt…numb. I felt like someone had picked me up from my apartment and dropped me off in the middle of nowhere, without a lick of instructions or reassurance.
But I knew I could step up to the challenge and rock this job. I had learned from the best, a man who had started building his multi-billion dollar empire when he was a nineteen-year-old college student at Harvard.
Fuck you very much, Kline Brooks.
“Georgia,” he said, ignoring my jab. “Listen. To. Me. Shit is crazy. I think everyone at Brooks Media is losing their ever-loving minds!”
Okay, that definitely caught my attention.
“W-what? Why?”
“Kline’s moods revolve around colossally awful and biggest dick around. And not in the good way.”
I blinked several times, attempting to process that information.
“Georgie? Hell-o? Are you still there?”
I swallowed past the shock. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Can you believe it? Kline Brooks, the man who rarely raises his voice and makes a point to be a gentleman, no matter what, has turned into the kind of guy his employees want to avoid at all costs. Talk about—”
I couldn’t take any more. The last thing I wanted to hear was about Kline and his bad moods.
“Dean, I can’t do this,” I chimed in before he could continue. The mere thought of Kline had my stomach cursing me for eating a sausage biscuit from McDonald’s for breakfast. “I just can’t listen to this. I love you. I miss you. But I can’t listen to anything related to Kline Brooks.”
“Oh. My. Gawd!” he exclaimed. “My spidey sense told me something was off with your rash departure, but I brushed it off, figuring maybe you just wanted to see tight asses in spandex all day. And, girlfriend, I didn’t blame you one bit for that. Hell, I would’ve done a whole lotta things—emphasis on dirty—that would’ve made them football boys blush to snag that job.”
