“Can you at least explain it to me? Can we talk about it?”
He sighs, a weary sound, and swipes his mouth with a napkin. “Take that pitying tone out of your voice, and I’ll explain. Briefly.”
“Deal.” I agree quickly, barely hiding my excitement.
“Curiosity killed the Kitty Cat.” The amused twitch of his lips transforms his entire face for the better.
“Being curious is my nature.”
“Being an asshole is mine.”
I shake my head. It’s not true and we both know it. But I don’t argue because I don’t want to stray off topic. “Dyslexia. When did you know?”
“Fourth grade. Spelling bee. There was lots of laughing coming my direction for hastily spelling the word dumb d-u-m.”
My heart aches for that embarrassed little boy, but I don’t show it. “Honest mistake, that’s how it’s spelled on the lollipops.”
“Exactly.” He gifts me with a warm smile that drops a moment later. “I can write, and I can spell, but it takes a lot of concentration to do either with any proficiency. Unlike you who puts her fingers on the keys and out it comes right the first time.”
“It’s not right the first time.”
He eyes me with suspicion.
“Not always,” I mumble.
He leans over our cozy table to tip my chin with his knuckle. “Don’t apologize for being an incredible writer.” He holds me there until I agree with a nod, and then he returns to moving his salad around his bowl with his fork. “I do my own work. I’ve always done my own work. But I’m not turning in a shoddy, half-assed piece while you turn in the equivalent of Shakespeare.”
“You can still do your own work, I’m offering to beta read. And make a few edits. Professionals do it all the time!”
“I’m not a professional.” He sips his water.
“Barrett—”
“Catarina. I don’t want you to do it for me. I’ve got this.”
I close my mouth when he uses my full name. It’s rare that he trots it out.
“I respect your right to improve on your own merit,” I say. Reluctantly.
“I don’t know what that means, but thanks.”
Beneath the table, I kick his shoe with the toe of mine. He sends me a smile, another wink, and then goes back to eating his lunch. I guess we’ll deal with the consequences when we return to the office.
I pull my purse into my lap and dig around for my cellphone, coming up empty.
“Looking for something?” he asks.
“Yes. My phone. I could’ve sworn I tossed it into my purse before we left.”
“You did. I have it.”
“When? Why?”
“I lifted it while we were in the elevator and put it on silent. I knew Mia would call. I didn’t want you to have to deal with her.”
Rage hits me like a runaway train. “Tell me you’re joking.”
He pulls my phone out of his pocket. I stand and snatch it, noticing several texts from Mia and three missed calls.
“Great. Just great.” I read the texts, my mind a tangle of panicked thoughts.
“I take it she’s mad,” he says, calm as ever.
“Of course she’s mad!” I earn more unwanted attention from nearby tables. “How dare you? This is my work!”
“You’ll be fine. I’m the one who’s in trouble.”
“Not now that I’ve ignored her and you’ve missed your deadline!”
A suited man rushes to our table. “Excuse me, folks, but does there seem to be a problem?”
“Yes...George,” I say after reading his name tag. The word “MANAGER” is under his name. It’s no surprise we’ve summoned him. Trouble shadows Barrett Fox’s wherever he goes. “But it’s my problem. You’ll be glad to know I’ll be dealing with it far away from your fine establishment.”
“I’ll behave myself,” Barrett promises George. Then to me, “See you at the office, sweetheart.”
“Don’t sweetheart me.” I march away, purse on my shoulder, head down as I peck a text to Mia letting her know I’m on my way.
Chapter 21
Catarina
Around four o’clock, Barrett walked into Mia’s office. I heard him knock and say her name. I stood up in time to watch over my privacy wall as she opened the door for him and he invited himself in. Then the door shut.
That was thirty minutes ago.
I passed by a few times, pretending to go to the restroom, then pretending to fill my coffee cup. I’ve now dropped all pretenses, taking to pacing back and forth in front of the slatted blinds covering her windows. I can make out the outline of their figures, but the angle of the blinds prevents me from seeing more.
Just as I gather my courage to knock on Mia’s door, it swings aside, and I’m greeted with a tall, handsome Barrett.
“Hey, Kitty Cat.”
“Hello, Catarina,” Mia says when Barrett steps aside. “Do you need something?”
“Um. No. I mean, yes. I was looking for Barrett.”
“She can’t stay away from me.” Mia laughs—a trilling, swoony sound before he accuses her with, “That’s your fault, by the way.”
“I’ll take credit for that,” she responds with a husky laugh. Was it me, or did she totally flutter her lashes? Unbelievable.
Her door shuts again, and I race after Barrett, who is meandering to his cubicle like he’s in less of a hurry than before.
“What happened?” I ask him.
“What do you think?” He shoves his laptop into his bag. Then a pen and notebook. Then the stapler. When he reaches for the tape dispenser, I grab his wrist.
“Were you...fired?”
“You’re so easy.” He places the tape dispenser and the stapler back on the desk. “No. I am not fired. I turned in my column and then sat down to talk with her.”
“What did you tell her?” Whatever he said must’ve been flooring. When I returned from lunch, Mia wasn’t happy with either of us. A minute ago she looked ready to dance a jig. When I texted her to explain, she texted back “talk later” and stayed in her office the remainder of the afternoon. I noticed she went to the ladies’ room, but I stopped short of chasing her in there to apologize for my insubordination.
“I told her everything.” He lays a hand on my jaw and bends his face very close to mine. I jerk my face away.
“We’re at the office, Fox.”
“My little rule-follower.” He lays his lips on mine. I push against his chest, but he finishes the kiss before releasing me.
“Everything,” I repeat. “What does that mean? Fox, what does that mean?”
“Breathe.” He rests one large hand on my shoulder. “I handled it. It’s fine.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t think I’d tell her about us, did you?”
I send a cautious glance to the left and right. No one is around.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks.
“I’m... I don’t know. Going home.”
“Want me to come with you?”