Page 21 of Falling for a Grumpy Hero

I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my face, doing a U-turn at the bike rack and heading back inside. Imaginary Luke was right. I was being a jackass and I had her number, being her employer and all. I just hadn’t used it until now.

When I got back to my office, I looked it up and called, but it only rang once before she rejected it, sending me straight to voicemail. So surprised this time that I didn’t really know what to do, I just growled at her answering machine.

“You can’t just run off in the middle of a Monday afternoon,” I snapped, but then I remembered why I’d actually called and backtracked. Running my fingers through my hair, I issued a half-hearted, muttered apology. “Also, I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. You did your job, and I should’ve appreciated that. So, yeah. That’s it. Yes. Goodbye.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, I hung up and buried my face in my hands. I turned back to my computer to try again to actually get some work done, but instead, I was feeling too out of sorts to focus so I got up. Again.

This time, I decided to hit up the break room. I rarely drank coffee from there given the likelihood of being sucked into a conversation with a coworker, but I was willing to accept that risk right now.

I opened my door, my gaze grazing across her desk and my head cocked. Is that… her school binder? Yep. That’s it.

I recognized it from helping her the other night, and I only remembered then that I’d asked her to bring it in today. I shouldn’t look through it, though. That would be crossing a boundary, right?

On the other hand, I really wanted to see it and she’d obviously brought it in for me to look at, so I abandoned my plan to grab a coffee and picked up the binder instead. I took it back to my office and closed myself in, sitting down behind my desk before I started flipping through her sketches.

Some of these, I’d caught glimpses of on Friday night, but there were so many more. Not only sketches but blueprints and plans she’d made for completely fictional rooms. What the hell? She should be pursuing architecture, not interior design.

She was too bright, too soft, and too expressive to be an engineer, but she would also have been good at that. Judging by the hand-drawn blueprints, she was excellent at math, but she was also too creative to be an engineer.

After a beat of just staring at a page in her binder, I decided that she would’ve made a fantastic, albeit eclectic, architect. Why isn’t she just doing that instead of taking night classes to get a certificate saying she can tell someone what couch to buy, or what trendy wallpaper to use?

Obviously, she was more than that. Her talents were bigger and her skills a lot more refined. Without even really thinking about it, I grabbed a pen—which I could find easily thanks to her organizational prowess—and started making notes about her sketches on the sticky notes she’d left on my desk.

Until now, I’d never used a sticky note before. I’d always just scribbled stuff on the corners of papers and forgotten about it.

By the time the sun was sinking low outside, I packed the binder with my stuff. But I wasn’t heading directly home. I had a stop to make first, and I was really hoping it wouldn’t blow up in my face again.

11

LILA

To: [email protected]

Subject: Out for the day

Dear Judith,

I trust this email finds you well. I think I’m coming down with something and I won’t be able to make it into the office today. I’ll be available on my phone and here if you urgently need to reach me.

Sorry about this.

Kind regards,

Lila

Before I could change my mind, I hit send and groaned as I leaned back against my couch. I inhaled deeply, looking out at the Atlantic sparkling under the sunshine outside. Did I just sign the death warrant on my new job?

Part of me expected a response to say that I didn’t need to call out because Ford had already fired me, but so far, so good. With every minute that passed without getting that news, I felt a little more optimistic that it would never come.

Optimism, however, didn’t equal naivety. Just so I’d be prepared if the worst happened, I logged into my bank account next, doing a quick round of mental math. I had just enough money to survive a single, aching month in this apartment before I ran out of funds to pay rent.

Another groan escaped me. That’s really not very long at all. God, I miss my savings.

Every penny I’d had saved had gone toward my relocation expenses, paying the Art Institute upfront, and putting down first and last month on this place. I reached for my mug, desperately needing an infusion of caffeine to my veins to help me think, but as soon as I wrapped my fingers around the porcelain, I knew I was dang out of luck.

The mug was empty.

A long time ago though, I’d made the decision to live every day to the fullest instead of constantly worrying when the tables were going to turn and my luck was going to run out. So instead of wallowing about the empty mug, I saw an opportunity to pour myself some fresh coffee and smiled.