Page 21 of Finding You
He immediately got mad. “Did he take advantage of you?” I could see him growing more and more angry. Normally this would annoy me—I hated when men tried to protect me—but with Declan it felt good, made me feel safe.
“Not exactly. He just quietly torpedoed my career in retaliation.”
“That bastard.”
I watched Declan’s face change as I told him my tale of woe. I could see the rage bubbling up inside him as I recounted working with Max and what had happened. I told him about his text messages, the creepy comments, and the time he grabbed my ass. Declan had no poker face, that was for sure. He picked up his beer glass, and it looked like he could smash it in his big, capable hands.
“So what’s the plan, killer? I know you have a plan.”
“I’m not sure yet. I am lying low and figuring things out. Taking some much needed time off in the process.”
“I don’t know you that well, but I know you are not one who gets knocked down and stays down. What can I do to help?”
I loved that he wanted to help me. I loved that he listened to my humiliating story and still called me killer. I had let myself and the rest of womankind down by not fighting harder for my job, for not going to HR the minute he propositioned me. I wasn’t feeling like a killer. I wasn’t feeling like my usual controlled and strategic self. I was feeling like a timid, pathetic mess.
I forced myself to look him in the eye. I was so embarrassed and humiliated, airing my shame in front of a quasi-stranger. “What I really need is a date for this gala. I can’t hide away in shame. I did nothing wrong, and I am going to go there and hold my head up high and receive my award for the hard work I accomplished.” I wasn’t going to give Burns & Glenn the satisfaction of erasing my hard work. It would also be an invaluable networking opportunity since I needed to line up a new job.
“Fuck yes, you are.”
“So will you be my date?”
“What? Me?”
“Come with me, pretend to be my boyfriend. I’ll get you a tux. You will look great in a tux,”—I winked for effect—“and we will go to a fancy party.”
He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He sat silently for a moment, clearly formulating his answer in his head.
“Why would you want to take me? I’m a fisherman, not some fancy corporate type.”
“Are you kidding me, Declan? You are the perfect date.” I gestured to him. “You are tall and built and uncomfortably handsome.”
He averted his gaze, and I detected a bit of a blush on his bearded face. It was really cute.
He waved his hand at me, embarrassed. “Objectifying me will get you nowhere, killer. I’ll help you find someone more suitable.”
I reached across the table and ignored the fizzle of electricity I felt when I touched his hand. “You are the only friend I have right now. And you are smart and interesting and tall. I just need someone to come as my date so I can hold my head up high and accept the award. I can't face it alone. I would be so proud to go with you.”
He finally met my gaze and smiled. “Wow. You really know how to compliment a guy.” He shrugged. “I’ll do it. Because you are my friend and I want to see the assholes who screwed you over and underestimated you.”
I beamed at him.
He stroked his beard. “I would be proud to be your fake trophy boyfriend for the night.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!!” I jumped out of my chair and crushed him in a hug. He patted my arm gently, and I took the moment to discreetly enjoy his intoxicatingly manly smell.
“I owe you. Whatever you want. I am in your debt,” I said. My mind was instantly filled with dirty thoughts. I meant what I said. I would do whatever he wanted. Maybe he wanted me to walk Ginger. Or maybe what he wanted involved nudity, and maybe some light spanking and hair pulling?
A girl could dream.
11
ASTRID
I was lyingon the couch in front of the fireplace devouring a regency romance from my aunt’s collection when I heard a knock on the door. I shuffled over, hoping it wasn’t a friendly neighborhood serial killer out for an evening stroll.
I peered through the door and saw Declan and Ginger standing there. Do I have enough time to go brush my hair and put on makeup? Probably not. Crap.
I opened the door. “Hi, guys.” Ginger pushed past me and sniffed judgmentally around the living room, finally curling up on the floor in front of the electric fireplace. “What’s up?”
