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“You sound like you’re stalking me,” I quip, giving her a feeble grin.
“You wish.” She steals another pretzel. “That’s what happens when you shut me out—I go all eagle-eye mode and watch your every move.”
“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.”
“You’re avoiding the question, Cori. Tell me who he is before I beat it out of you.”
She’s right, I’ve ignored her—and him—since my lunch break, choosing to focus on the files that are splayed across my desk instead of the hushed whispers and speculations that erupted throughout the office the moment Brody disappeared into Mr. Barrett’s office.
A closed-door meeting, and I didn’t know a damn thing about it. I’m Arnold Barrett’s own fucking assistant, and I didn’t know a thing about this meeting.
I’ve been here two years, and nothing has prepared me to know exactly what that could mean. Jesus, I’m normally the one scheduling those meetings, so what the hell is going on?
“Barrett didn’t tell me about the meeting,” I confess to Jenn like it’s the end of the world. Not only am I avoiding her question, I’m also whining like a schoolgirl over the fact that I’m out of the loop.
Jenn rolls her eyes, snatching the bag of pretzels from my hand. “Cori, so help me God...tell me who that stud muffin is right now or I’m going to shove every one of these pretzels down your—”
“He’s Jackson’s brother!” I hiss out emphatically, trying to keep my voice down. My gaze immediately scans the breakroom, making sure none of the other assistants overhear me as they come in and out of the room.
Jenn knows all the sordid details about Jackson’s infidelity, and her eyes grow wide as she processes what I’ve just admitted. “Holy shit,” she whispers, idly popping another pretzel in her mouth as she stares blankly out the opened breakroom door across the room to where Mr. Barrett’s office door is still closed. “Your ex’s brother is smoking hot, Cori.”
Like I haven’t already realized that. “He didn’t always look like that,” I sigh. “That’s why I didn’t immediately recognize him when I saw him.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?” Jenn doesn’t even bother to look my way as she asks.
“God, I don’t even know. He went away to college on a hockey scholarship the year after Jackson and I got together, and I was still in high school then. I saw him sporadically throughout the years during holidays spent at Jackson’s parents’ house and whatnot, but he rarely attended those, too. It’s been at least four or five years since I’ve seen him, I’d say.” Just thinking about those holidays spent with the family I thought would be mine forever has my tone of voice shifting.
Jenn, ever the good friend, gives me a knowing glance and switches gears. “Did he always look like a visual depiction of sexual tension?” she asks with a faint upturn of the corners of her mouth.
I scoff, shaking my head. “The Brody Marsh I remember was always athletic, but he didn’t have the charisma or the confidence to pull off the sexy jock thing, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean the way he does now?” she says with a grin. “Because he sure as hell looks like a charismatic, sexy jock to me. But I hold out my final verdict until I can get a closer inspection, if you know what I mean.”
“He’s all yours, girlfriend,” I say in my best mocking voice, ho
lding my hands up in surrender. “I’ve had enough of the Marsh boys to last me a lifetime.”
Jenn’s eyes widen and she pulls her chair in closer, sitting up straight. “Hope you’ve got it in you for a little bit more of this Marsh boy, because he and Barrett are heading this way, girlfriend.”
I look up quickly and, sure enough, my boss is leading Brody toward the breakroom with an expectant expression on his face.
Shit, he’s going to want me to do something.
All I keep thinking is that Jenn’s got this all wrong by immediately assuming Brody is here for a job. Brody Marsh isn’t a lawyer; he’s a hockey player. At least, he was the last I’d heard. I remember Jackson being so ridiculously proud when his big brother got drafted to the NHL.
That means he must be here because of a legal case, which would make more sense. Jesus, is Arnold Barrett going to be his lawyer? Inwardly, I cringe at the thought of having to work alongside Brody, even in a professional capacity. He’s too close to my past, too much a part of the things that still cut through me like a knife...
Too gorgeous.
“Corinne, I’d like you to meet Brody Marsh,” Mr. Barrett announces, waving a hand as though putting me on display. “This is Corinne Hastings. She’s my assistant, Mr. Marsh. The best of the best.”
I’m not sure if anyone else can feel the tension in the room, but when I stand and meet Brody’s gaze, I’m convinced I could cut it with a knife. I make a split-second decision to play dumb, and I hold out my hand, hoping he’ll do the same. “Hello, Mr. Marsh.” I speak through a tight-lipped smile. “It’s good to meet you.”
Something dances across Brody’s features as he takes my hand, but I can’t read him clearly. The amusement in his eyes, however, is written there loud and clear. He shakes my hand easily. “You too, Ms. Hastings. The pleasure is all mine.”
You smug son of a bitch, I think. You’re enjoying this.
“We’ll be taking Mr. Marsh on as a client effective immediately, Corinne.” My boss sounds positively thrilled as he explains this to me, and all I can do is pull my hand away from Brody’s grip as gently as I can muster and smile at my boss, pretending to share in his enthusiasm at the prospect.
