Page 9 of Open for Negotiation
Chapter 2
Scarlett
My heart is in my throat, pounding like I’ve just gone skydiving or bungee jumping, even hours after the encounter in the stairwell.
That’s what kissing Maxwell Duke is like.
A massive adrenaline rush that is terrifying from start to finish, but so addicting you can’t wait to do it again.
I’m distracted even now when I’m supposed to be paying attention to my friend. My mind begins to slip again, only to be shoved back when I nearly nick my finger instead of the food on my chopping board.
“Shit,” I sigh and use the back of my hand to wipe hair from my forehead. “I’m really, really bad at chopping things,” I laugh as I carefully slide my knife through the garlic clove I’m supposed to be mincing.
My laptop is placed a safe distance away on my counter with the camera facing me, and my best friend, Eden, is on the screen with her hair piled on her head in a messy, brown bun. There is flour on her cheek as well, so I guess she’s struggling as much as I am.
“You’re the one who picked this meal, you know? You are a sadist and a masochist, somehow. You wanted to struggle and you wanted to watch me struggle. Rude,” she says.
I point to the printed-out recipe I found online and emailed to her so we could cook together. “Look, it’s literally called Easy Chicken Parm. Easy, Eden.”
“Easy, my ass. Nothing is easy if it involves slicing and dicing tiny things into even tinier things with murder weapons.” She holds up the large butcher knife she’s using.
“Focus, Eden. We can do this and it'll be epically delicious, but first, let's take a little wine break.” I could use the alcohol.
“Wine or whine, because both could be applied right now?” She blows a piece of her hair out of her face and laughs.
“Both at the same time is good for me. I’m always down for a whining with wine session,” I reply.
We both step out of the camera view to get our glasses. I return with a crisp white wine, and Eden returns with her signature deep red wine.
“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass to the screen and I match her movements before we each drink. “You have that look about you.”
I lean my hip against the counter. “What do you mean? What kind of look?”
“The look that says you have something on your mind. I can see it on your face. Spill.”
I sigh heavily then bend at the waist, resting my arms on the counter then my head on my arms, like a child who doesn't want to do something he’s being told to do. “Oh, Eden... you have no idea.”
“That’s what I thought. Chug that drink, pour yourself another glass, and tell me everything while we ruin a Pinterest recipe.”
I tell her everything.
The flirting, the kissing in his office, what happened in his car after the meeting, my resignation, and then the stairwell... everything, all while chopping, cutting, and frying.
When I finally look back to the screen, she’s gaping at me in stunned silence.
“Have I rendered the great Eden Winters speechless or is my WiFi acting up?” I ask her.
“Give me a minute. I’m processing the fact that you fucked your boss in the front seat of his car, in the middle of the day, in a parking garage in downtown Atlanta.” She blinks rapidly then shakes her head. “And then you quit your job, well… almost quit until you fucked him again in the stairwell.”
“I did not! Clothes didn’t even come off… we just…” I cover my face with my hands. “Eden, I’m so confused.”
“I feel like I’m malfunctioning somehow because my brain can’t handle this.”
“You aren't the only one. I’m still processing it all.” I add some pasta to a pot of boiling water and give it a stir. “He asked me to go to dinner after we... nearly… you know… in the stairwell, but I said no.”
“What? Why would you say no?”
“I kept thinking about the implications, the potential blowback, and I guess it just brought back old memories. I just needed some time to think.”
