Hudson considers it for a moment. When he looks up with an answer, he wears a smirk causing my stomach to clinch. “Tell her I’m a puppy intern.”
“Really?” A puppy intern? I exaggerate my eye roll and unlock the car door. “No.”
He shrugs, locking the doors. “We have to come to an agreement.”
“No, you need to stay in the car.”
He smiles, and I realize what I said. “Fine, I’ll stay in the car. Right here.”
“You’re parked right in front of the doors. People will notice if you stay here all day.” Panic sweeps over me. I’ll be the talk of the office. Everyone will ask what’s up with Amanda. It will be horrible. The Russian mob can just come shoot me.
“Take it or leave it.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go sightseeing? Visit Alcatraz?” Everyone loves the old prison, and we didn’t get to see it last week.
“Amanda,” he says staring into my eyes. Hudson’s hand cradles the edge of my face tenderly causing more tummy clinches and giving me a case of confusion. New Year’s Eve was hot and heavy but since then we’ve spent the last few days avoiding each other. I’m worried he regrets what happened between us, but I don’t know what to do about it. It’s not like I can walk up to him at breakfast one day and ask him how I was. Am I a horrible kisser? No one has complained before, but again it’s not something you tell. Is it?
His thumb bumps slightly on my cheekbones. “You are already more than a job to me. You need to let me keep you safe.”
“It’s my office building. I’llbesafe.” I press the unlock button on my side of the armrests.
Hudson sighs but doesn’t immediately lock me in. The car fills with sadness, but it’s a good sign he hasn’t locked the doors so I hurry to open the passenger side.
“I will text you if anyone even looks at me weirdly.”
He smiles shaking his head. “I’ll be here when you get out.”
“Don’t,” I say leaning back into the car. “Go see the sights. Enjoy the city. The guy can wake up in the hospital any day and then your vacation is over. Go enjoy yourself.”
“This has never been a vacation for me,” Hudson yells before I shut the door and run a few feet up to my office building, just in case he changes his mind and decides to come after me. I can’t imagine what my sixty-year-old boss would do if he saw me being chased by Hudson.
“Morning, Ms. Amrose,” Joe the security guard at our building waves in my direction as I walk past.
“Morning. Did you have a good break?”
See? I don’t know why Hudson worried. There’s a security guard right here. It doesn’t matter if he’s in his seventies and his only deadly weapon is a can of mace he carries in his back pocket. Joe’s still guarding the building. And doing a damn fine job if you ask me.
“Spent time out of town with family,” he replies. “And you?”
I stop at the edge of his desk and pause for a moment. “I stayed here, but it was good.”
He tips his head as the front door opens for another worker so I keep on walking. Not everyone in this office building received the full week off like my company gives us every year, but there is still a happiness with those here today. We appear lighter and excited for the future.
Or it’s only me.
I didn’t go home to see my family this holiday, and I saw someone get shot, but in a weird twist of fate you wouldn’t believe even if you read it in a book, I had a good Christmas and New Year.
It’s the first Monday in January and even though the sky’s cloudy with fog in the typical San Francisco morning, the office space is bright. Light shines in from the windows, creating rainbow patterns on the carpet.
“I left you something on your desk,” Stacy, the receptionist, yells in my direction as I walk by her desk.
Hopefully it’s the new pack of pens I ordered. The brightly colored pens are from Paper Mate with a felt tip and a huge variety of colors. I take my pens very seriously and thankfully my boss doesn’t watch the office-supply budget much.
I turn the corner to my row of cubicles — there’s a tiny office space to work in when I’m not meeting with puppies — and slide into my desk chair. My heart skips once. Then twice.
It’s not that I don’t notice the huge bouquet of bright red roses. It’s that I have to work hard at being indifferent so I don’t scream at the top of my lungs in excitement. I can’t remember the last time someone sent me flowers. Maybe high school on “send a flower” day when you could pay a buck and send a flower and a note to one of your friends. Bobby Gessup sent me a white carnation our senior year, but then ended up taking Samantha Blissfield to prom, so I’m not sure if it counts. Especially after we discovered he sent flowers to more than ten girls. He hedged his bets.
These roses are gorgeous. The bright red pedals smell like… well, roses, but I stick my nose in as far as possible and make sure to get a big whiff. They’re wonderful. Perfect.
