“Yep. We got here an hour early. I felt like a cat burglar sneaking her in here.”
It makes me chuckle. “A cat burglar sneaking in a dog.”
When Ben laughs, it’s the most amazing sound. It’s deep and rich, and it comes from deep in his chest. I love it.
“Look.” I hesitate. “About what I said the other night—”
He holds up his hand and shakes his head simultaneously. “You’re right. You’ve got a job to do.”
“Oh.” I slump a little back into the chair.
“I propose we revisit”—he waves a hand between the two of us, back and forth—“whatever this is after you’ve finished up here at MFH.”
He said propose.Sure, I know the way he used it didn’t mean he wanted to marry me, but still…. The smile that comes over me is so big, it’s probably crazy-looking. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Yeah?” Ben leans over his desk, and I lean closer at the same time.
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Right.” He smiles, and I swear he’s blushing. “Well, I plan to help you as much as I can to expedite this situation. With that in mind, I’ve got some information for you.”
“Okay. What’ve you got?” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. Ben’s eyes move down and he freezes. “Ben?”
“Oh.” He shakes his head. “I had an interesting conversation with Lindsay this morning.”
“Lindsay?”
“She said…”
I listen to his story about Lindsay and her link to Clive. “But we determined that Clive didn’t write the file.”
“But I thinkshemay have. I also think she may be the one who turned him against me.”
“Why would she do that?”
He shakes his head slowly. “We started here around the same time. We’re on the same management level. She always seemed easygoing. I’ve enjoyed working with her. She’s got great ideas. Her social media plans are always spot-on.”
Reaching down, I pull out my laptop. I’ve scanned all the documents from the green folder onto my computer into spreadsheets, so now all I have to do is search for the information I need. “I told you the three main issues.” I look up at him. “I know who the lunch thief is.”
“Sam,” he says softly.
“You knew?”
“I saw him once. I assumed it was a onetime thing, but I guess not.” He shrugs. “He’s never stolen mine, but all I ever bring are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Oh, that’s sad. If I were his, I’d make sure he had something great for lunch.
Oh hells bells, what am I saying? My lunches are crappy too.
Getting back to the conversation, I ask, “He makes good money. Why would he do that?”
“I know he pays a ton in child support.”
I get that but… “Still. Nothing angers a staff more than someone taking lunches.”
“That’s true. He must’ve stolen our author’s lunch one too many times.”
“I wonder what Lindsay brings for lunch that’s so appealing.”
