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It’s nice to connect to people, just for a second. Even nicer when they walk away. But the best part, I have to admit, was a little thrill and twinge I get when I think about Irving. Just knowing I have pictures of his fine, sculpted backside on my phone makes me feel a bit naughty.
I bet it really is perfect.
Chapter 6
IRVING
“Is that wheatgrass?”
She startles and spins around when she hears my voice, almost spilling the drink in her hand. Her wide, brown eyes get enormously big as she stares at me, and her fingers on her free hand flutter to a strand of shining, dark hair that she pushes nervously behind her ear.
“Excuse me? Are you talking to me?”
Team members walk around us on their way to the Wednesday investor call in the south conference room. Her eyes flicker toward them but she doesn’t try to break away.
“It just looks like wheatgrass,” I continue, trying to suppress a smile.
Why is she so nervous? I don’t think I am overbearing or harsh. In fact, I go out of my way to create a pleasant office environment. Still, something about her sudden fright triggers me to keep her here just a moment longer.
“I’m sorry about the project,” I shrug.
She searches my eyes, biting her lower lip in confusion. “The project?” she repeats.
“From yesterday?”
“Oh, right,” she sighs.
Watching her face is like watching a silent movie screen. Micro-expressions flicker across her features as she apparently rolls back through her memory of yesterday’s meeting. I wonder what her internal movie screen looks like. I wonder if, given enough time, I could decode her expressions and get an idea of what the inside of her mind is like.
“I know you were happy to be on the team,” I continue. “But it’s not moving forward. We will have to find you something else. Maybe in the meeting today?”
Her eyes go even wider, so much so that a thin line of white appears around the borders of her dark brown irises.
“Y-Yes!” she stammers. “Whatever you want, Mr. Galloway. Just let me know.”
I don’t know why, but she makes me want to smile. I feel like I’ve trapped a bird in my hands that’s just fluttering wildly, ready to fly off at any second. I lean in closer, close enough to get a whiff of her shampoo, or maybe that’s just how she smells. Green and lush. Grassy. She smells vibrant.
“We need to use some of that big brain of yours,” I murmur, probably too close to her ear to really be professional.
But she doesn’t pull away. Instead, there is that sharp, abbreviated intake of breath like a reverse sigh. A gasp that starts with a click at the back of her throat.
“Irving?” comes a voice.
I pivot slowly to see Veronica standing as rigid as a steel beam, her eyes flashing between us. Her nostrils are flared and her hair seems to sort of levitate away from her head. It kind of reminds me of the depiction of Medusa in movies. I wonder why I never thought of that before.
“The meeting?” she continues pointedly.
“Right!” Opal declares next to me. “Thank you, Mr. Galloway. I’m happy to do it.”
Opal hurries off, her hips swishing underneath her simple trousers. If I am not mistaken, I have seen this outfit many times. I think we saw it just last week as a matter of fact. A pink, long-sleeved blouse in a pointelle pattern and light brown trousers. Simple. Neat. Understated.
Veronica vibrates where she stands, like a giant church bell that has been rung. I simply hold out a hand toward the south wall.
“After you.”
With her lips in a tight line, she spins around and stalks off. The tightness of her skirt keeps her from taking long strides, and it’s almost funny to watch her try.
“Good morning, everybody,” I smile at the team, taking my place in the front corner of the room.
