Page 35 of Not Safe for Work

“You hate me, Rafe. Why do you care who deserves me?”

The corner of his mouth trends north. And it’s not exactly a smile, but it’s something that might exist close to one. I take a step back, overwhelmed by the force of the dimple that imprints on his cheek and the way his shirt stretches over his chest like it’s grateful to have been chosen from his suitcase this morning. He lifts the hem to wipe away a line of sweat, exposing a swath of golden skin, and I’m so close to passing out it’s pathetic.

Rafe moves closer, and even after a workout, he smells so good that I kind of want to lick him like a chocolate-dipped cone. Another step and my back hits the wall with an audible oof.

With his eyes shining like polished copper pennies, Rafe moves so close that nothing but atoms vibrate between us. I suck in a breath, my breasts ghosting against his chest with the barest brush. He plants his elbows on either side of my head, leaning so close it compresses the space in my windpipe until I’m breathing lead.

His head dips, his mouth a phantom against the shell of my ear.

“I do hate you, Tris. I hate you very much.”

My mouth parts. My thoughts are coated in mud. His head pulls back, and then he does it again. That lift of his lips that borders on the edge of… something.

After giving me a prolonged once-over that would corrupt a demon, he walks away, disappearing into the changing room.

My knees have become water, and I slide partway to the floor. With my heart galloping in my chest, I press my hand against it, knowing only one thing for sure: Rafe Gallagher is giving me some very mixed signals.

Chapter Ten

Once I’ve gathered the shreds of my tattered libido, I return to our room, relieved to find it empty. After an icy cold shower, I change into fresh workout clothes, donning a black tank top and shorts. The app says we’re focusing on team building today—oh joy—and will be heading to Blue Lagoon Adventure Park.

An hour later, I find myself bumping along in the vinyl seat of a yellow school bus that pulls into the parking lot. There, I spy a giant outdoor obstacle course made up of ropes and ladders, wooden walls, giant tires, muddy ponds, and bridges swinging from trees.

After hopping off the bus, I huddle with Gabrielle and Lan under the cool drops of the continuing drizzle. I can’t help but notice that my friends are standing a little closer than might be typical for a professional environment. I think of Rafe towering over me in the gym, our bodies so close I almost drowned in his heat.

Gabrielle turns away to speak with someone, and when Lan catches me watching them, she leans over and whispers in my ear. “The internship is still my priority, but nothing is saying I can’t have a little fun on the side, is there?”

“Obviously not,” I agree, willing myself not to look for Rafe in the crowd.

Most of WMC’s rising stars are in their late twenties and early thirties. I turned twenty-nine a few months ago, and the eternal question of what’s next is creeping up louder and louder. I’ve spent so many years focused on my career and avoiding long-term relationships, indulging in casual flings that are only about physical release, but how much longer can I keep this up?

What do I want? Marriage? Kids? That would mean I’d have to learn to trust someone with my heart again.

The executive team is also here, sitting under a large white tent, black sunglasses shielding their eyes and coffee mugs clutched in their hands. I assume they’re full of vodka.

From reading her book, I know Diane never married or had children, and I wonder why she made those choices. Does she regret any of it? Or is that question simply a product of my own internalized expectations?

Marriage might be nice—I like the idea of having a partner as my constant. Children have never been high on my list of priorities, but I suppose if I met the right person who I could see myself having kids with, I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

The instructor starts yelling out orders, dragging me from my thoughts. She tells us to convene in groups of four for today’s challenge.

While a mad scramble ensues, I notice Rafe across the parking lot. Our eyes meet, and something hot and jagged flares in my chest. I’m still reeling from this morning, and my thoughts are having trouble catching up.

Lan tugs me towards Gabrielle, who’s standing with Andy. We become a foursome, and I watch Rafe join a group with two men and one woman whose names I don’t know yet.

Andy presses a hand against the small of my back. He seems to be over the incident on the boat and clearly isn’t allowing Rafe to scare him off.

“Glad we’ll be working together,” he says with an uncomplicated and sincere grin, but I’m not sure how I feel about this anymore. The initial spark has dimmed, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Rafe.

Sure, okay. Let’s go with that.

My gaze drifts back to Rafe. Is he thinking about this morning, too? His thin grey T-shirt stretches against the lines of his chest and his shoulders, and I lick my lips without meaning to.

The instructor begins to explain today’s rules. We’re being judged on our teamwork, how we support our teammates and strategize, and, of course, how we keep up. Being a successful leader is about more than just mental stamina; it requires physical stamina, too.

The winning group will be awarded a private dinner with the executive team this evening. It’s a chance to impress and help secure a training spot at the end of the retreat. Lan is practically salivating at the notion, whispering strategies under her breath as she squints at the obstacles and then assesses each of us with a critical eye.

I’m not worried. I’m good at things like this. I crave physical activity as long as no one tries to make me dribble a basketball or spike a volleyball. My teammates all seem fit enough, and I like our odds.