When he hangs up the phone, he turns so that his shoulders lean against the wall, his hands are on the rail that lines the car, one ankle is crossed over the other, and his eyes right on me. “They’re working on it. They said it shouldn’t take much longer.”
“Red Vines?”
“Sustenance,” he says with a wink.
“Then you should have asked for Twizzlers.”
“Seriously? I’m trapped in an elevator with someone who loves Twizzlers? Just means more for me then. Hey, are you sure that wasn’t why you were fired because loving Twizzlers is one of those things that is hard to overlook.”
“Hardy-har-har,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Did you actually just say hardy-har-har?” He laughs.
“Yes. It’s been a shit day. I’m allowed to say whatever the hell I want.” But I smile and it feels so damn good after the day I’ve had.
I squat back down as gracefully as I can in my skirt to continue picking up the vomit of brown parcels that pretty much look identical at my feet. The packages that are supposed to be my ticket to making a difference in this place. My first step in working my way up the corporate ladder that apparently ends at the first rung for me.
“You know I could help you, right? It doesn’t make you any less capable if I do.”
“Mmm.” It’s all I say knowing I’m mad at him for not helping me and at the same time acknowledging I don’t want his help.
Or rather, maybe it’s that I don’t want his help because the more he talks, the more he makes me laugh, the more I’m forgetting he’s one of those who work here I’m not supposed to like.
The more I can pretend that he’s not as attractive as he really is.
“Mmm?” He repeats the sound I made back at me. “Is that a yes, you’ll accept my help now, or a no, you think I’m a bastard simply because I have a dick, type of sound?”
My eyes flash up to meet his from where he stands and amusement lights up his eyes, but his face remains completely impassive all but for the muscle feathering in his jaw.
And of course, now my mind is fixated on his dick.
“Cute.” I force the word out, just like I force myself to stop thinking of his particular package.
He shrugs. “You’re the one who was going to chew me out for helping. I’d rather keep my hands firmly attached than risk one being ripped off.” He holds his hands out and wiggles his fingers. “They do come in handy.”
“I’ve got it,” I huff out, mad at myself for not letting him help before the words are even out. “Thank you for offering though,” I add, more than willing to admit my bad mood isn’t his fault.
“You’re welcome.”
The silence returns followed by a clank somewhere above us that has me looking up at the ceiling and catching his eye.
“You can stop staring at me now,” I mutter as I grab another package and place it in the pile.
“I haven’t seen you around. Are you new to the company?”
“Nope. Worked here for ten months.”
“No shit.”
“Not surprising really.”
“Why do I feel like you’re constantly talking in riddles?”
“What floor were you heading to?” I ask, needing to jolt myself back to reality and stop this school girl crush that is blossoming.
“Fifteen.”
I snort. “Exactly.”
Mail girls don’t mix with executives here at Garters & Lace. That’s the first rule you learn when you start working here.
He squats down on his haunches so that he’s eye level with me. That gaze causing my pulse to race and the space around us to feel like it’s shrinking. “There’s those riddles again, Jules.”
2
Archer
“You have the most peculiar eyes?” I murmur and earn a startled shake of her head.
And they are peculiar as they narrow and look at me. Dark blue outlines her irises while a light gray fills their center. They are loaded with about as much distrust as there is curiosity.
She snorts.
It’s fucking adorable.
Almost as adorable as her in her black Doc Martens and sparkly tights beneath her peacoat. Not someone I would look twice at on a normal day—call me a dick for the admission—but there is something about her, something about the look in her eyes and the sarcasm in her voice that has me taking a second look.
Other than her reindeer antlers now thrown to the ground beside her packages.
Like the chocolate colored hair that is pulled up in a top knot. The full lips painted a pale pink and her eyes . . . they’re almost too big for her face but they are so stunning framed with thick, dark lashes that they pull you in.
“I’m not talking in riddles, you’re just not someone who notices a girl like me.”
I open my mouth to refute her but know damn well she’s right . . . and for the first time I hate it. But more than that, I hate hearing her opinion about Garters & Lace. About working here.
“I beg to differ,” I assert. “I know quite a lot about you. Prick. Asshole. Shitty ice. Fucking boss. Twizzlers. See? I know a lot more about you than you think I do.”
Don’t smile, Jules.
I dare you not to.
Ah, there it is. Those lips of hers turn up at the corners and soften the sadness on her face.
Her cheeks flush pink as she starts to pull her jacket off like claustrophobia has just hit. And, hell yes, I should be worried about her sudden moment of panic but I’m too busy noticing the roadmap of curves she just unearthed beneath the shapeless coat.
Wow.
One word. That’s all I have time to think as I take in the swell of her tits and the curve of her hips beneath the form fitting crazy Christmas sweater that makes me want to say ho-ho-ho.
Wow.
“Only because you’re forced to.” The hostility in her voice pulls me from staring too long and before I can ask what she means, the elevator car jerks.
We both jolt in reaction as she falls forward onto a package before grabbing onto the railing to catch her fall.
“Jesus,” she blurts as panic flickers through her eyes, her knuckles white as they grip tight.
“He is the reason for the season,” I say, trying to calm her some, but get a glare instead. And I hold it, so very curious about Jules Jilliland and her Docs. “Hey, if you’ve been fired, why are you still carrying packages?”
She grits her teeth and temper fires in her eyes. If you’d asked me five minutes ago if she was sexy, I would have told you she’s more the adorable type—button nose, full lips, innocent eyes—but that spark in her eyes and the set of her chin changes my opinion. She’s definitely sexy.
Who knew you had that in you, Jules?
“Because my boss told me even though I was fired for being late, if I deliver these packages, he’ll pay me through the rest of the week.”
“Ah.” I nod and purse my lips, already making a mental note to check with Barney in the mail room to see why he fired her. Jules pulls the hem of her sweater down on her hips and, of course, it makes the V of her cleavage that much deeper.
You’re just not someone who notices a girl like me