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I scan the area. Is she talking to me?
“Yes, I’m talking to you.”
I step forward. “I didn’t realize you knew I was here.”
She pivots to face me. “Of course, I knew you were there. I’m a woman. I learned early on in life I need to be aware of my surroundings at all times.”
I growl. “Has someone hurt you? Who is he? Where is he?”
She waves away my concern. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”
I notice she didn’t answer my question. I open my mouth to repeat my questions but realize – no matter how much I may wish otherwise – it’s technically none of my business. Unless she was harassed on the job.
“Has anyone sexually harassed you while you’ve been working for us?”
“No. And, if they had, you could have read about it in my personnel file as all harassment incidents are documented by HR.”
I roll my shoulders and decide to let this go. Lilac is not mine to take care of. She will never be mine to take care of. Even if she weren’t my employee, she wouldn’t be mine. Not considering the smorgasbord of men at her disposal. My hands fist at the thought.
“The macho man business is handled. Now, can you please answer my question as to why you are here?”
I shrug. “I came to check on the site.”
Her eyes narrow. “You came to check on the site on the day you knew I was here?”
I could lie and say it’s a coincidence, but I’d probably get a lecture about how coincidences aren’t real due to some subconscious thought. The woman has an opinion on everything, which is her prerogative, but she also has entirely too much knowledge on a variety of subjects. I’ll never win an argument with her.
“I wanted to observe your interaction with the local crew.”
She flinches. “And caught me reprimanding the foreman.”
“I…”
She squares her shoulders and speaks before I figure out what to say. “I will not tolerate men and their prejudice against women on the job site. I won’t hesitate to call someone out for their conduct if it is inappropriate. I have no plans to change my behavior in this regard. If you have an issue with it, I suggest you discuss it with HR.”
The woman is a goddess with her back held straight, her chin jutted out, and her eyes on fire. I want to fist her hair and claim her mouth – to hell with the consequences – but she’d probably knee me in the balls before verballing ripping me a new asshole.
I growl. “I don’t believe women should accept inappropriate male behavior.”
“Good. At least, we agree in this area. Now, if there isn’t anything else?”
She begins marching off before I have a chance to answer her question.
“But we do need to discuss one thing,” I holler after her.
“Which is?” She asks without turning around.
“Your inability to answer the phone—”
She twirls around and stomps toward me. “I have told you I am under no obligation to answer my phone during my personal time. If you continue to insist I do, I will notify HR.”
“I’m not referring to out of office hours. I tried reaching you before I arrived on site.”
She digs her phone out of her pocket and wakens the screen. “You called at five minutes past two. I was in a meeting from one o’clock until two-fifteen.”
“Then, you did hear your phone?”
“No. My phone is on silent during meetings. It’s rude to answer your phone during a meeting.”
