Page 30 of Just a Plot Twist
Why am I suddenly guilty about sending those to her? Not that I meant to send them. But what is happening?
“You’re…you’re welcome,” I manage. “Good. How’s your ankle?”
She exhales deeply. “Much better. The crutches are more of a precaution than a necessity.” But something crosses her face, a look that tells me she’s being overly dismissive of the situation.
“Good.” I’ve been saying “good” a lot. I’m not smooth around women, especially when I’ve inadvertently sent them flowers—and when she’sstanding in front of me with her shirt accidentally unbuttoned. I have to say something. Now.
“There’s a—"
“You going on the hike this Saturday?” She interrupts, moving to circle around to the side of her desk. Is she trying to increase the distance between us?
“It’s supposed to be super cool with a waterfall at the end and everything,” she continues. She pouts and then half of her mouth curves up in a smile. “I’ve been telling myself my ankle will be fully healed by then. The power of positive thinking!”
I hesitate, glancing down at her ankle. There’s no way she’s going to be hiking anytime soon.
She shifts her injured foot back behind her desk, as if to hide it from me. “It’s…unlikely. But I’m not going to dwell on that.” She presses her fingers against her temples and massages. “I’m going to heal myself with my mind.”
I can’t help the laugh that burbles up inside of me. Is she trying to convince herself?
But back to the button situation. I mean, this is a real issue. And while I can appreciate—greatly—a beautiful woman when I see one, I’m seeing more of her than she’s intending…more than she even knows. The longer this goes on, the worse it will be for her.
I point to her plunging, open neckline. “So, you’ve got—”
She gasps again, but this time, she’s looking behind me.
“Grandma! Grandpa. Hey!” She laughs, rests the crutches against the wall, and hobbles her way over to them, her arms swinging dramatically with the limp. “We’re having a party here now.”
An older couple walks in, her arm laced through his. She’s in a fashionable, spring dress with high heels and a designer bag. He’s wearing slacks and a short-sleeved button down with a silk pocket square.
Claire’s grandmother’s face pales as she takes in her granddaughter’s unbuttoned state. It’s like it’s in slow motion, because her eyes go to Claire’s obscenely plunging neckline, to the flowers, and, finally, to me.
And boy, are theytrainedon me.
Chapter 10
Claire
Great. My grandparents have the wrong idea.
Benson is here. And he’s sent me flowers—a gorgeous mix of daisies, hyacinths, and tulips. And their Claire can’t be distracted from the task at hand to be entertaining a man. I have my career to consider.
I manage to hobble to them without the crutches. It’s good practice for Saturday night. See? I’m healing up so fast.
But Grandma is scowling like there’s no tomorrow, and they’re both giving Benson the stink eye. They don’t even know he’s part of the Tate family and they’re already hating on him.
They’ve disapproved of every man I’ve gone out with—not that there have been that many.
But this whole thing looks bad. First, he sends me flowers and then he shows up at my office building?
And also? He keeps checking me out. What isthatall about?
Does he like me?
Maybe? Maybe not. I have terrible guy-dar.
Theoretically, it’s fine. He’s attractive and obviously kind. But he’s not my type because he’s eight years older than I am and has an ex-wife and two kids.
He’s, technically, sort of a Tate. And while I’m flattered, I can’t go there. He’s Sophie’s brother-in-law, for heaven’s sake, not to mention my grandparents would be devastated.
