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And he gave up on logic.
Mostly because she was lifting up on tiptoe, her lipstick-painted lips coming close to his.
He shoved her back and kept shoving her until she was out of his office.
Then he detached the talons, slammed the door, and flipped the lock.
He looked at the pile of papers on his desk. He looked at the clock, at the hour he’d come in just so he could catch up, so that he could take lunch, even maybe a rare, long one. He looked out the window at the woman who thought she could push him into something, just because she was related to the boss. He thought of HR and all they hadn’t done to support him. He thought of his boss and his promises to look out for Jeremy at promotion time. And then he thought of the promotion thathadcome, the additional responsibilities and a fancy title, but no additional money to go along with it.
That would probably wouldnevercome.
And…Christ.
He thought about what he wanted.
An answer he still didn’t have.
But what hedidknow?
Thatthiswasn’t it.
He tugged on the pull for the blinds, let them drop over the glass between them.
Then he went to his desk.
And he drafted his resignation email.
A moment after he hit send, Jeremy walked out of that building, and knewknewhe wouldn’t ever go back.
* * *
“Damn,” he said, taking a long sip of the coffee. “Honestly, I didn’t understand what all the hype was about.”
Melody grinned. “That’s because you hadn’t had it.”
“True enough.” He nodded at the plate full of pastries in front of them. “Please tell me that these live up to the hype, too?”
A chuckle. “Why don’t you try them yourself and find out?”
He picked up a homemade donut, took a big bite.
“Fuck,” he said through the mouthful. “You’re going to be responsible for making me fat.”
She started laughing, picking up her choice—a chocolate croissant.
She was just taking a bite when the front door opened, and he instinctively glanced up at the sound of the little bell tinkling.
And then froze, a huge bite of donut in his mouth, clumping together, gluing his teeth together, nearly making him choke when he inhaled rapidly.
He coughed, and Mel looked up. “Oh God, are you okay?”
She got up out of her chair, patted his back. “Do you want me to get you a glass of water?”
“No.” He coughed again. “I’m good,” he croaked.
“I know the baked goods are yummy,” she murmured, “but I feel it must be said that I didn’t advise you to inhale them.”
He managed to get the coughing under control, narrowed his eyes at her.
