Page 6 of Tempt Me
Cooper rested his chin on his hand and covered his mouth. Was he laughing?
“Screw you. Cruelty to animals isn’t funny.”
“You have to admit,” my brother said, “getting kicked out of a community college culinary school for stealing a lobster is pretty damn funny. As is thinking you can help Jamila out of her PR slip-up. You might plan a good party, but you have zero public relations experience.”
“But—” I shot Cooper a pleading look.
He held up his hands. “Sorry, Natalie. Jay’s right. People go to school to learn the ins and outs of public relations. Leave it to the professionals.”
“But…” How could I have wanted my brother’s sympathy? It was the absolute worst.What I needed from him—or anyone—was a shred of confidence in my abilities. Apparently, the Synergy office was not the place to find it.
“Go home,” Jackson said. “Put your feet up. Eat some chocolate. Try some retail therapy. I’ll text you tonight to check on you, ’kay?”
I sucked in a breath through my nostrils and sighed it out. He was right. Who was I to help Jamila? I hadn’t even graduated from college. I still lived at home with my parents. In a suite with a luxurious, multi-jetted shower that was calling my name. “Okay.”
“Did you drive here?” Jackson asked.
“No, I—”
“Ask Paulina to give you a ride home. I’ll give her the rest of the day off.”
“Thanks. See you, Cooper.” I waved and trudged out of the office in my ridiculous flip-flops. Jamila stood on the other side of the door, one arm crossed over her stomach and her other hand wiping a tear from her cheek.
I abandoned all thoughts of a shower.
3
“Jamila?”
In the fifteen years I’d known her, I’d never seen her cry. Not when Jackson accidentally threw an elbow and smashed her nose on Thanksgiving, not when her app came in fourth place in that contest and she didn’t get the funding she deserved, and not after her weird hookup with Cooper, the one I wasn’t supposed to know about and (I was pretty sure) Jackson didn’t.
But outside my brother’s office, moisture glistened in her eyes.
“Oh, hey.” She blinked and sniffed, and she was diamond-hard Jamila Jallow again. I’d have thought I’d imagined the tear, but her mascara was the tiniest bit smudged in the corner.
“Are you okay?”
“Never better.” She drew herself up. “You going home?”
I hesitated for less than a second. “No. Are you staying here?”
“My admin said the press went away, so I’m going back to the office.”
“I’ll go with you.” The words burst from my mouth like machine-gun fire in one of Jackson’s video games.
She scrunched her forehead. “Why would you want to go all the way to Silicon Valley?”
Crap. I’d forgotten she worked down in Mountain View. It’d be a pain to get back home with no car, but it would be worth it to ensure she was okay. “I’ve never seen your office.” That was true. “I’m considering switching programs into software development.” That was a lie.
Her gaze pierced me. “From culinary school to programming is a significant change.”
“Oh, you know”—I waved a hand airily—“it’s in my blood.”
“Don’t.” The word was sharp like a firecracker. “You’re smart and capable of doing anything you want. Don’t hide your light under a bucket.”
She hadn’t forgotten about the Christmas party. She’d said almost those exact words then too, and then I’d done something truly idiotic.
“Jamila, I—”
