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“Like we have a choice?” I remarked.
“I know,” he repeated. “But it comes with a comp day of your choosing.”
I narrowed my eyes at him because we both knew that I couldn’t say no, with or without the comp day. It wasn’t like we were in a position to tell the damn state no. Plus, it was my job. I was the administrative assistant in this department, and its paperwork was my responsibility, and that included current paperwork and archived. The only issue was that our archived paperwork was housed in a storage room that was separate from the facility’s building. The logic was that if the facility caught on fire or had to be shut down, our legal documentation would still be safe. Granted, a lot of our stuff was computerized and all that, but for state and federal paperwork, we always housed the original documents with our original signatures and whatnot.
“I don’t need a comp day,” I grumbled as I locked my computer screen. “I just need a damn ride to the storage building.” The place was so big that we had six motorized carts that the mechanics often used to get around. “Also, the name of the asshole asking for all this crap. I want to make sure that the document copies are addressed to the attention of the sadist.”
“You’re a doll,” he lied. “I’ll make sure to get you that ride and-”
Just then, Landen’s voice cut into our conversation. “A ride where?” I had just stuck my facility keys into my pocket as Landen joined Waylon near my doorway.
“The storage building,” Waylon answered. “We need to send the state some paperwork from last year.”
“Lucky me,” I sighed, not caring if I was sounding like a spoiled brat.
“I can give you a ride out there,” Landen offered, and my head reared back in surprise.
I quickly shook off my surprise though. “No, it’s fine,” I told him. “I’m sure you’re busy. I can get one of the mechanics to take me. Hell, there might even be a free cart available, so that I can drive myself out there.”
“It’s not a problem,” he insisted. “I’ve got time.”
“Great,” Waylon said, then looked over at me and added, “Your comp day-”
“I don’t need a comp day,” I said as I walked towards him. “It’s my job, Waylon.”
“I know, kid,” he replied. “But that storage building is a goddamn mess, and I wouldn’t wish dealing with it on my worst enemy."
The biggest problem with the storage room was that it didn’t belong to me; it was used by every department in the facility. Some of us were more organized than others, so even though my files were stored properly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone else had moved my crap around to make room for their stuff.
“I’ll live,” I assured Waylon. Then looking over at Landen, I added, “I’ve got this, you can go back to doing whatever you were doing.”
His silver eyes hardened. “And I already told you that I had some free time,” he replied, and I knew that refusing his offer again would make Waylon suspicious.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “I appreciate it.”
“I’ll go get one of the carts,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
As Landen took off to procure one of the motor carts, Waylon said, “Don’t forget your flashlight.”
“Crap,” I muttered.
While there was lighting in the storage building, all the storage boxes were high enough to cast huge shadows and create dark corners. Some stacks of boxes were stacked precariously high, so if I ever went missing, everyone was to check the storage room first.
Going to grab my flashlight, Waylon took off to let me do my thing. After grabbing it, I made my way downstairs and towards the Maintenance Department’s main outdoor entrance. The place was very big on security, so there weren’t many entrances or exits into the place.
When I made it outside, Landen was pulling up in one of the carts, and I found myself letting out a deep sigh.
*****
Landen~
Without a word, Skylar got into the cart, then I drove us out towards the storage building. My original plan had been to call her this evening and apologize for being a dick yesterday. However, driving her out to the storage building had given me the perfect chance to clear the air.
“I can help with the boxes-”
“No need,” she quickly replied, cutting me off. “Like I told Waylon, it’s my job. Now, while it might not be my favorite part of my job, it’s still my job.”
The rest of the ride was made in silence because I knew when a woman was just waiting to spit nails at a man. Even though I’d never had a wife in the picture, I’d been around plenty of women to know when to tread carefully. Besides, my father had pissed off my mother many times during my childhood, so I recognized the signs.
