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Well, at least until recently.
The reminder of my first career misstep has resentment burning in my chest.
He steps away and walks toward the door to the lobby. “Come on. I’ll get the write-up for you.”
I debate if I should do as he says or be stubborn, but decide it would just give him the upper hand.
When I close the door behind me, he’s behind the waist-high counter, typing on the keyboard. My gaze settles on his hands moving over the keys. They’re large, and for a man making his living abusing his hands on a daily basis, they have a grace about them.
For a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of his banging on the keyboard in the room.
“So how long are you in town for?”
I sigh and look down at my boots. “I leave Christmas Day.”
“Getting your gifts and running?”
I look up at him, frowning. “Why does it matter to you?”
His eyes stay on the screen as he clicks a couple of times on the mouse, but he shrugs his shoulders. “It doesn’t. I just thought you’d stick around for your family’s Christmas dinner. I mean it’s been a while since you’ve been home for the holidays, right?”
I clasp my hands in front of me and shoot him a smile that I’d honed over the years when dealing with asshole men who thought I couldn’t hack it in the advertising industry. “I know this might come as a shock to you, Jake, but what you think is of no consequence in my world.”
He looks up from the monitor, and for a few moments we have a face-off.
When he looks away first, a dark glee fills me. But it’s short-lived when he says, “I apologize for prying.”
I shake my head as something suspiciously like shame floods my chest. “Look, by that time I’ll have been here for a few weeks. Far longer than I care or want to be. I have a life to get back to. As a matter of fact, I have things to get back to now.”
The printer next to him comes to life and spits out a sheet of paper. He slides it across the counter, his jaw set. When he looks at me again, those gray eyes are cold as stone. “Then, you should get back to it. You need a ride home?”
I open my mouth to correct him, but he holds up his hands. “Sorry. Your mom’s house. Far be it from me to assume you think of it as home.”
The man still knows me much better than he should.
“No. I’ll just walk.”
He sighs. “If it will make you feel better, I can have one of the guys take you.”
I pull down the beanie over my head and straighten my back. “No, I’m good.”
“Suit yourself. See ya, Gray.”
His tone is nonchalant, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. He crosses the cluttered room to the door leading out to the garage area. He shoves it open, not looking back as he stalks toward the car he was working on before I interrupted him. Bruce Springsteen singing about Santa coming to town filters in briefly before the door slams shut.
What the hell just happened?
With a sigh, I snatch up the paper and push out the front door, the frigid air surrounding me once again.
I don’t have the time or inclination to figure out the inner thoughts of Jake Henderson. I tried that once before, and all I ended up with was a broken heart and a healthy dose of commitment phobia.
My focus, as always, is work. I need to get back to the house so I can get to work on my newest campaign. I may have been passed over for this promotion, but it won’t happen again.
I shove my hands in my jacket pockets, wishing I’d remembered to bring gloves. Or had taken Jake up on his offer for a ride.
Are you crazy?
No, but I’m freaking cold.
