Page 65 of Joy to Noel
A devilish smile spreads across Liam’s face, and he leans an arm on the door frame above my head. “Rule three,” he says, “no stealing any of my clothes to wear.”
I give him a quizzical look. “What? I’ve never stolen any of your clothes.”
“This is a preemptive rule,” he says. “I’m telling you in advance that I couldn’t handle seeing you wear my clothes. If I leave a hoodie lying around, you keep your grabby little paws off.”
I give him a sultry smile. “Well, now you’re just giving me ideas.”
Liam growls, and says, “You’re adding it to the list. At least, I’m pretty confident your Type-A brain was planning to write down these rules. Are we signing an official contract? Should I be calling a notary?”
“Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time,” I tease in a low voice, and I see the spark in his eyes that’s a precursor to his lips finding mine. I cut him off before he can distract me. “Rule four: you have to keep talking to me.”
He backs away a touch, searching my expression. I clarify, “We’re starting a real relationship. This isnota physical fling. It’s pretty evident that both of us could easily spend all day making out, but you have to keep talking to me. Keep sharing more about yourself. I want to know you better. I wantyouto knowmebetter.”
Between the silent pause and the contemplative expression on his face, I know he’s seriously weighing my demand. He finally says, “Okay. I swear I’ll try. I might need a little help in the opening up department, but I’ll try. I promise.”
“Rule number whatever number we’re on: I’m gonna need you to resurrect that British accent,” I say, grasping his shirt and tugging him closer to me.
“Aren’t you demanding?” he murmurs, leaning in. I detect a hint of posh English as he adds, “Good thing you’re also irresistible, love.”
Before his lips can reach mine, there’s an alarming hiss as Hamlet’s paw aggressively swats at Liam’s ankle.
“All right, all right, we’ll feed you,” Liam says, giving Hamlet an evil glare. Hamlet glares right back.
“Let’s go, Hammie!” I call on my way to the kitchen, voice obnoxiously chipper.
Liam groans.
Chapter twenty-seven
Liam
Getting in the car to leave for work is an act of torture.
Last night, I distracted Madison while she made tacos, and then we wrote out a formal list of rules while we ate dinner. Then, she distracted me while I washed the dishes. After a brief pause from productivity to make out, we sat on the couch with our coordinating reMarkable tablets in hand, each working on our own projects.
I never thought that I would enjoy such a domestic scene.
Turns out, it was the best evening that I never imagined.
But it’s made it very hard to drive away from the cocoon of domestic bliss, even for nine to ten hours. Especially after we enjoyed coffee together following my run this morning.
We also enjoyed a few rushed kisses on my way out the door, which was the final nail in the torture coffin.
I spend the seven-minute drive to the factory focusing my thoughts and reviewing my to-do list for the day. Because it’s an important one. I have clearance from my superiors to make some key personnel moves, so I need to be locked in on work, not memories of Madison’s lips.
When I walk through the door, Amanda calls out, “Good morning, Mr. Park.”
“Morning,” I reply. “Could you have Beau come to my office as soon as he can?”
Amanda nods and picks up her phone, so I continue walking to my office without stopping. About fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and Beau appears.
“You wanted to see me?” he asks. I motion him to come in and close the door behind him. When he sits down across from me, I lean forward on the desk.
“Beau, I’m going to cut to the chase. It’s no secret that you’ve been a large part of this factory’s success. Mr. Wilson made his best attempt to sabotage the facility, but people like you kept it from completely folding. And you’ve been an integral part of getting things back on track these past few months,” I say. “Things have been in a holding pattern as we waited on further investigation into how Wilson was able to get so far without anyone noticing. But I’ve been given the green light to start making some necessary moves as we look to the future.”
Beau’s been nodding along, elbows leaning on his knees with his hands clasped. I can’t hold back a smile as I say, “The first move I requested was to shift you into the position of floor manager.” He sits up straighter, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “I know that all your experience has been with the machinery as head engineer, but you’ve shown that you can step up to the plate and lead the team. If you’d like the position, it’s yours—along with the pay raise and bonus structure.”
There’s a pause as Beau collects his emotions. The look of gratitude and pride on his face brings me a unique sense of pleasure—so often, I’m the one coming in and dismissing employees, eliminating positions, or altering job descriptions. It feels really good to be the one offering a promotion to someone so deserving.
