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And I did the only rational thing. I got the fuck out of there.
Like a coward, I called out of the office, working from home on Friday. Dean texted me to ask if I was okay, but I didn’t answer him. Saturday and Sunday were sunny, and I spent a few hours each day running outside in the cold, hoping to knock some sense of reality into me. I might have wanted Dean, but I couldn’t act on it. We worked together. Not to mention, we were competing against each other for the same promotion.
There was no way we could continue down this road. Only a dead end lay ahead.
Since it was Presidents’ Day, the office was closed Monday, so I went out with Kennedy, shopping at the King of Prussia mall for clothes I didn’t need. But it was successful in keeping my mind off Dean Hargrove and his godforsaken hands.
Tuesday couldn’t be avoided, so I trudged into the office, determined to keep it completely professional. I avoided any extra eye contact and didn’t walk past his desk unless absolutely necessary. And it worked.
At least, for a few days.
He’d become good at popping up when I least expected it, but I always found some excuse to wiggle away from him. Until Friday night, when I stayed late, finishing up all the work I’d missed, an unfortunate side effect of hiding away from Dean.
The office was empty save for me and my terrible mistake, who was currently stretching in his chair, his tie loosened, like he was planning to stay the night. Well, I wasn’t leaving untilafterhe left. This was one game I was determined to win.
“It’s six,” he said, absently swiveling back and forth in his chair, though he didn’t face me. “You need some help with something to get you out of here?”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll see you Monday.” I kept my focus down, refusing to look up when I heard the squeak of his chair as he rolled it to my desk. Then his arms were there, one on top of the other.
“If you’re planning on staying here a while, we could order dinner. You need to eat.”
My eyes went unseeing, as they had all week when I was forced to make up some lie. “I’m not hungry.”
“I could hear your stomach growling from over there.”
“Go home,” I told him, finally meeting his gaze. He smiled in return. The gall.
“I thought I’d keep you company.”
I frowned at his smacking gum. “I don’t want you to.”
“Then why don’t you be honest and tell me what you do want,” he said.
“I want you to leave me alone and go home.”
“Do you, though?”
“Stop,” I said, but when he tipped his head to the side like a begging dog, I had trouble keeping my mouth set in a straight line. “Go home.”
“See. Here’s the thing. I’ve been patient with you all week, but I’m tired of being ditched and avoided. We need to have a conversation.”
“Nope.” I closed my planner and shut down my computer. Whatever I didn’t finish, I could do at home. There was no way I was staying here to listen to this. “We don’t.”
I stood and grabbed my coat, but he was on me, snatching it from my hands.
“Hey!” I took it back, though he didn’t let go, starting a tug-of-war game.
“What are you so afraid of, huh?” he goaded.
I yanked on my coat in an attempt to get him to release it, but he barely moved. With a devious smile, he leaned over and pulled, forcing me forward. My heels didn’t help, and I skidded right into him, chest to chest, nose to nose.
“Since when do you run away from a fight?”
His heat, his scent, the fan of his breath across my lips, it was all so familiar, I nearly gave in. Instead, I closed my eyes, whispering, “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“What was that?”
I knew he heard me fine. He was only being an asshole. “I said, I don’t want to fight with you.”
