Page 2 of Open for Negotiation

Thank. God. I’m shocked he can’t see the relief all over my face.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I guess it was all such a whirlwind that it just slipped my mind you didn’t know yet. To be fair, it wasn’t just me.”

I try to push past him and into my cubicle, but he holds his arm out, blocking my path.

“You’re being modest and you're trying to act like it wasn't all because of you? You’re a rock star. Don't be modest. Own that shit. I would.”

“Oh.” I smile and look down at my feet. If there is one thing I have a hard time accepting, it’s praise. It makes me want to hide. “Yeah, I just didn’t want to act like it was me singlehandedly. It was all of us, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re the one who stood up there and made them fall for you. You used that Scarlett Hale charm.”

I clear my throat and shove my bag into the bottom drawer of my desk. “I wouldn’t say it was charm. I’d say it was the presentation that we all contributed to. I just presented it.”

“You’ll accept a compliment from me one day, Scarlett. I’ll make sure of it.” He reaches forward and pulls my chair out for me to sit and maybe it’s just my imagination, but I swear I feel him brush his fingers across the skin of the back of my neck.

I instantly move forward and away from his touch, real or imagined.

He's never made it a secret that he has a thing for me, but I just don't reciprocate. He's a nice guy and all, very cute with his blue eyes and black hair, but he's just not for me.

“You can try, but I don’t think the day will ever come that I’m not awkward when I hear them. That’s just me. I’ve always been this way. I think I always will be.”

“Like I said, I’m a persistent man. I’ll get you to accept them without blushing, although, I will miss that color in your cheeks.”

I sigh heavily and turn to face him, to tell him I just don’t feel the same way he does, but when I do, he has already walked away.

Since the day I started here at Fortress, Garrett has been my closest friend, coworker, what have you. He’s kept me sane in times of great stress, he’s been the voice of reason when I’m overthinking things, he’s been a giver of wonderful professional advice over the years.

What he hasn’t been, however, is a crush of mine.

While he’s never outright told me that he has feelings for me, it’s becoming increasingly obvious. We started off just like any other set of work pals. We had little inside jokes and would send funny GIFs to one another through instant messaging, and he’d always save me a place next to him during meetings. Then he started sitting closer, looking for reasons to touch me, and every time we speak now, it has flirtatious undertones on his part.

I know I need to tell him the truth, but the last thing I want to do is hurt him, in any way.

I sigh and spin back around to face my desktop and fire up my programs and interoffice instant messaging service, giving it a peruse to see who all is in the office, and absolutely not at all scrolling to Max’s name to see if his bubble is green.

It is.

He’s already here.

Fuck. I need coffee… with a little bourbon.

****

Thank God the kitchen is empty. I just want to make my coffee, get back to my desk, put in my earbuds, and listen to a true crime podcast like any normal person does on a Monday morning.

I open the drawer that resides in the corner of the counter and stare at the K-Cups for far too long before deciding on the strongest blend we have available to us, and pop it into the Keurig. I slide my coffee mug under the spout and press the big, silver button, bringing the machine hissing to life. There’s something about that sound and the strong scent of rich coffee filling my nose that allows me, for just a moment, to relax. I focus on the white noise with my eyes closed and try to ignore the fact that the minute my lids drop over my irises, Max’s face pops into my head.

Of course it does.

He’s been in my head since the moment I left his car Friday afternoon with the scent of him on my skin and bruises his fingerprints left on my hips.

Stop it, Scarlett. Don’t let him get under your skin. This has to stop.

The glorious beeping sound rings through the kitchen, telling me the coffee is done. That excitement doesn’t last long, however, because when the kitchen door opens behind me, I hear the telltale sound of his deep, husky laugh, and suddenly I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Do I pretend I didn’t hear him come in? Do I turn around and face him head-on like the badass feminist I like to think I am? Yes. Fuck this. Don’t let a man keep you from being strong and independent. You’ve learned that lesson already. Use it as fuel.

I take a breath and turn around to say hello, but freeze when I see he’s not alone.

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