Page 75 of All the Ugly Things
If I wanted to kiss her before, it was nothing to what I wanted to do to her now.
Next to me, my dad, in a thick and hoarse voice, said, “Go get Brandon. He’s still here, correct?”
Peeling my gaze off this woman and focusing on my dad was difficult. “Yeah.”
“Then go get him.”
I didn’t bother with the elevator. With employees leaving early on Fridays, it was always busy. I chose the space and seclusion of the stairwell, thundering down the two levels until I reached the sixth floor and headed straight to Brandon’s office. He never left early, most nights stayed late, so I wasn’t surprised to see the light on in his office and an earpiece tucked into his ear while he paced the room.
Like me, Brandon had a hard time sitting still.
Unlike me, his was due to years of anxiety from living in an abusive home life he left shortly before we met.
I waited at his doorway while he finished the call. Jenna, based on his dopey lovely grin. Also, he called her sweetheart.
“Hey,” he said, tapping a button on his phone. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
“Dad has someone in the conference room on eight he wants you to come meet.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
His brows furrowed, hands to his hips. “About what?”
“He’s looking to hire you some extra help for a part-time position next to Sandra. Is she here?”
He gaped at me like a fish. Opened and closed his mouth a handful of times before his brows rose on his forehead. “No. She’s already left for the weekend but let me make sure I’m clear on this. My assistant is getting an assistant?”
We hadn’t told him or anyone else of our plans. No one would argue with Dad anyway, but I didn’t blame him for being shocked. There was a reason for this, though. “Yup.”
“Since when?”
“Since Dad decided you work so damn slow you need more hands on deck.”
“Asshole,” he muttered. “Not Dad. You.”
“I know.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my pants and rocked on my heels. “So are you coming?”
“To give an interview I wasn’t aware was happening for a position I didn’t know I was hiring for?”
“Yup.”
His eyes narrowed right before he tossed the phone to his desk and shrugged. “Sure. Why the fuck not. Interested to find out what Dad’s doing now, anyway.”
I directed him toward the stairwell for privacy’s sake this time and opened the door. “Interview is for a Lilly Huntington.”
I hopped up three steps to give myself some space.
Five, four, three, two…suddenly, I wasn’t running from Brandon anymore but was thrown backward, back to the cement wall with one strong forearm braced against my chest and the scent of Brandon’s BLT sandwich from lunch inches from my face.
I waved my hand in the air between us. “Jesus. Lay off the bacon.”
“Tell me it’s not.”
“It is.”
“She’s—”
