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"And what exactly doessheactually do here?" His eyes narrow to the woman in question, who is still watching our exchange with thinly veiled interest.
"Well, she…" I pause, not wanting to gossip about anyone, especially if it might put my job at risk. "She does a really great job keeping us relevant on social media. That's something we really weren't doing before Mr. Vandreth took over."
"Hmm," Cal says, thumbing over his phone screen. "Is this the gallery's Instagram?" I look over and confirm that he has it correct. "There are so many pictures of her on it, it could be mistaken for her personal account.”
"She's gotten a lot of followers for us, though," I reason, wincing when I notice he's scrolled to a particularly unattractive photo of me that she decided to post with the caption "grunt work". I'm wearing ripped jeans and one of my stained art t-shirts, standing on a ladder with my hands raised above my head to hang a piece of art. The photo is taken at the worst possible angle, accentuating my double chin and a roll of fat that attempts to peek out from under my raised t-shirt. My ass takes center stage in the photo, but makes sure not to miss any detail of my face. I'm sweating, not a stitch of makeup, and my features are screwed up in concentration. She got a great laugh out of posting that picture, even after making me beg her not to.
Cal makes a thoughtful sound, somewhere between interested and amused, as he pauses over the post.
Please tell me he didn't just take a screenshot of that post.
"She's blocking the art in nearly every photo!" Ezra exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief.
I won’t lie. There's a very petty part of me that is getting sick satisfaction out of someone else noticing how completely inept Cherith is. She gets paid a lot of money to do little more than primp and smile prettily when the compliments come rolling in about what a great job she did with each event. It's not that I need any recognition for it, I genuinely enjoy the work. But the fact that she's so terrible to me, while she's skating off my hard work, frankly sucks.
Not able to come up with any more words to her defense, especially after she embarrassed me in front of both of them, I just smile and give a light shrug.
"You should be running this place," Ezra says softly.
"Sounds like she already does," Cal mutters, scoffing as one of the caterers comes over to ask me a question.
There’s no big problem or emergency that I need to handle right away, but I take the opportunity to slip away. As much as I’ve enjoyed the banter and boost to my ego, standing between these two giants has all the air sucked out of the room and I could use some space before I manage to embarrass myself further.
"Well, gentlemen, this has been really nice, but I do need to get to work. Please excuse me." I reach my hand out to Cal. "It's truly an honor to meet you. I hope the rest of the exhibit is to your liking and that there are no more interruptions to your evening."
"As if you've done anything to apologize about. You are remarkable, Miss Heaton, and the pleasure has been all mine." This time, he kisses my hand. The moment his warm lips touch my skin, gooseflesh erupts at the point of contact and race up my arm. My nipples pebble and I stand there, dumbfounded and trying to remember what I was on my way to do.
Then, just in case I wasn't flustered enough, Ezra places a light kiss on my cheek. "We'll see you later, Beth. And if you get too busy to come back and chat with us some more, I'll see you in class." Why do I feel like he knows I’m escaping?
Oh god, class.My face heats instantly, and I cut my eyes back to Cal. "Will you be, um, joining us in class again?"Could I be more awkward?
He chuckles and I almost think I see his cheeks pinken a little. "No, that was just a one-time favor for a very good, veryoldfriend."
"No matter how old I get…"
Leaving them to their playful banter, I help the caterers with a small issue and then circulate the room. I spend the rest of the night staying busy, but keeping track of the two men in my peripherals. Ezra eventually leaves, giving me a small wave on his way out and mouthing, "see you in class." Since it's his exhibit, Cal stays until the last guest leaves and I can't avoid him anymore; especially when I notice him picking up random abandoned glasses, placing them on a tray.
"You know you don't have to do that," I say, reaching for the tray and passing it to one of the caterers.
"I don't mind," he says. "I noticed none of Barbie's funhouse stayed around to help." Mr. Vandreth, Cherith, and Becky left an hour ago to "go find some better drinks."
With a smile, I thank him. "It's honestly appreciated, but I promise it's not necessary. To tell the truth, this is actually my favorite part of the night." Cal’s brow crinkles in confusion, but before he can ask, the bartender gets my attention near the door.
Normally, I lock the door behind him. I can tell he doesn't want to stay, but also isn't necessarily comfortable leaving this large man in the building alone with me. He gives me a look as if to say,can I go or do I need to kick this guy out first?
My eyes cut towards Cal. Strangely, I'm not put off by his presence and the way he’s found a way to steal my attentionagain. Maybe I should be wary, or afraid even. But I'm not.
If I'm being totally honest with myself, it gives me a bit of a thrill to imagine a scenario where Cal would be interested in taking advantage of me. Bending me over the desk, and…
Gesturing with a wave of my hand, I quickly walk over to the door. “It’s okay, Brian. He’s a friend of Mr. Beckett, I’m all good here.”
Brian nods and shrugs a backpack onto his shoulder. I lock the door behind him, taking my time so I can try to dampen down the sudden onset of butterflies.
"He's really just going to leave you here with me?" Cal says, surprised. I think I detect a hint of irritation in his tone as well. It’s cute.
I laugh awkwardly. "I told him you were okay. Probably unlikely to assault me.”
“Probably unlikely?” he says incredulously, both alarmed and amused.
