Harpreet is gaping at me, so I take advantage of her shocked silence to flee. I’m halfway to the door before she says, “Patrick’s computer keeps crashing when we run PowerPoint.”
“What?”
“It... as soon as we turn it on in presentation mode, it freezes and—” She shakes her head. “You know what, never mind. I’ll call Brady.”
My skin prickles at his name. “What for?”
Harpreet and Doug exchange a look.
“Because he’s our IT guy?” Harpreet sounds unsure.
I shrug. “We shouldn’t bother him with things like that.”
“With IT problems?” Doug says slowly.
“Have you tried Google? There has to be a forum somewhere with the answer.”
“Well, wecould,” Harpreet says. “But Brady would be—”
“Just try online first.” I glance at Patrick. Using the intern is a low blow, but I am not above it. “Check and see if you can find the answer online, okay?”
Patrick nods eagerly, but Harpreet scoffs. “What, did you guys have a fight or something?”
I spin back to her so fast I risk whiplash. “What? No. We...we shouldn’t take advantage of him because he’s available.” I resist the urge to check the time again, but I can feel the seconds ticking away. My hours with Brady are too short tonight already.
“But we pay him?” Harpreet says.
We do, but not enough. Not for the sleepless nights and the acid stomach and the disappointed look in your son’s eyes when you—
Fuck, no. That’s me.
“I have to go.” I do my best to save face by giving Patrick one last smile. “Thanks for the presentation. The podcast sounds great.”
“Oh, Nash—” Doug says, but I push past as if I don’t hear him.
My laptop is still in my office; otherwise I’d make a beeline for the door. But I don’t need to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary. Grab the computer, get the hell out.
Except the second I’m through my office door, my heart screeches to a halt as Brady swings around in my desk chair to face me, grinning like a silver-screen villain.
“Well, hello, Mr. O’Hara,” he says, twirling an invisible moustache. “So good of you to join us.”
Carefully, I close the office door. “What are you doing here?”
He’s still twirling. “I want to make you an offer. Trust me when I say you won’t refuse it.”
“Brady,” I growl. His spinning and twirling stop, but he gives me an unrepentant smile, instead.
“Thought I’d pop by.”
“What for?”
His eyebrows arch, and his voice drops to a rough purr. “I think you know.”
“Brady,” I sigh, sagging against the door.
He’s out of the chair in a second, but the playfulness has gone out of his face and his body. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong? Should I not have come?”
“I—”
