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He shrugs. “I guess I’m not very nostalgic.” He returns the mystery and pulls out another book, historical fiction. I watch him quietly, waiting for him to elaborate about why he doesn’t save mementos or have people over, but he doesn’t take the hint. I get the sense something about this line of conversation makes him want to retreat, but at least he doesn’t stop talking altogether. “What makes the other ones books for company?”
“Some are classics. Some are popular. There’s a good chance other people have read them so they’re good for conversation.”
“These aren’t good for conversation?” He returns the historical fiction book to the shelf.
“Some of them are. Some of them are just for me.” I join him at the bookshelf, looking over the titles I keep there.
“I don’t understand.”
I bite my lip while I search for the words I want. “Sometimes there’s a character, or a story, that just speaks to you. It’s like you can identify better with that character or that story than you can with things that are…” I glance at Chris and stop mid-sentence. “I just don’t like to dissect them.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and hug my arms to my chest. Now it’s his turn to wait for me to elaborate, but fortunately the printer stutters, saving me from further conversation.
I open the printer to find the source of the problem, letting out a deep breath when I realize it’s an easy fix. “It’s out of paper. Would you grab some from the cupboard? The one right in front of you.”
Chris bends and opens the cupboard in front of him, but instead of paper, he rises with another book. “I see you’re a closet romance fan. Michele Lenard. She must tell a good story. Everything in this cupboard is written by her.”
“What?” I feel the blood drain from my face as I realize what’s happening. “Not that cupboard. The next one over.” I hope he doesn’t hear the crack in my voice.
Chris returns the book and reaches for the next cupboard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like being a romance fan was something to hide.”
“Well, they definitely don’t say smart and well read.” I recover with an awkward laugh. “So, you can see why they’re in the cupboard.”
“Actually, I think they say you’ve got a passionate side.” He pins me with a sensual gaze, and I swear all the breath leaves my body.
He hands me the paper before I can process what just happened. I put it in the printer on autopilot, and it roars to life, spitting out the pages of the application we just completed.
“What are you going to do with this?” I hand him the final copy, eyes glued to the printout. He takes the papers, careful not to brush his fingers against mine. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“I’ll just hang onto it in case we ever need to reference it again.”
“I have the file saved.”
“I know. But I’m a paper guy, remember?”
“Do you even own a computer?” I finally find the strength to look at him.
“It’s bugging you that I came over without one and now I’m asking for printed copies, isn’t it?” He smirks.
“Well, for someone who understands the technical side of things, it is a little odd that you don’t seem to actually use any tech yourself.”
“As a matter of fact, I do own a computer.” He smiles. “I just don’t like to depend on them. Thanks for this.” He gestures toward the papers in his hand. “I’ll take off, let you get on with your weekend.”
“Oh, okay. Sure.”
“I knew you’d make a great scribe.” He winks. “See you around the office?”
“Yeah, sure.” I try to smile like I’m not baffled by that whole exchange, but the truth is I’ve never been so confused.
I glance at my phone. It’s the third time Harper has called today and the third time I’m ignoring the call. I feel bad about dodging my agent, especially knowing that she’s only trying to do what she thinks is best for my career. But I still haven’t made a decision about whether to give up my pen name and speak at the romance writer’s convention, and I don’t want to talk to Harper until I know my answer. If I talk to her before making up my mind, I’ll be opening the door for her to sway my decision, and I want to make up my mind without any outside influence.
Two months ago, heck even one month ago, I might have been tempted to reveal my identity. My children’s books hadn’t been picked up anywhere, and my career prospects were almost solely limited to writing romance novels. There hadn’t been much reason not to give up my pen name and truly focus on the stories and the industry that had given me a comfortable living. But then my friend Jen had introduced me to Charlie, and he had introduced me to the world of education. And I kind of like this world.
My phone beeps, signaling a new voicemail. I don’t have to listen to it to know that Harper wants an answer yesterday, and even though I owe her a response, or at the very least an acknowledgement that she called, I don’t have time for romance novels. Not today. Today is the formal kickoff for Engage, and Charlie is hosting a launch party at a restaurant near the office.
I have mixed feelings about attending the party. Obviously as an employee I need to make an appearance, and I’m looking forward to spending some time with my coworkers. But fun with my coworkers is not first and foremost in my mind. Chris is. And the idea that I’ll likely see him tonight has my stomach in knots.
I haven’t seen him since he left my house over two weeks ago, and since he said, “See you around the office,” when he left, I’d actually expected to see him around the office. That was silly, of course, because he doesn’t work there and has no reason to come by other than checking on his property. Either he’d made all the upgrades he wanted to for Charlie and his work was done or he’d come by when I wasn’t around. It looked like there were some new lights in the parking lot, but if that was Chris’s doing, I hadn’t run into him when they were installed, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I’m disappointed by that. Truth be told, I’m kind of offended by that, like he’s been avoiding me.
I check my watch. The party is about to start. I close my laptop and start to stow it in my bag then realize it’s probably safer here in the office than in my car. It’s unseasonably warm out for early March, so I already planned to leave my car and walk the two blocks to the restaurant in the fresh air. I’ll just pop back into the office to grab my laptop when I come back for my car. I grab my tote and head outside, and as I get closer to the restaurant, I realize the walk helped calm my nerves. But the heels I’m wearing don’t do any favors for my feet. Fortunately, my tote is large enough for the change of shoes I brought for the walk back.
