She rolls her eyes. “It’s my job.”
“Sewing emergency?”
“No. That was because I’m nice.”
“Hm.”
“What? You don’t think I’m nice?”
“I don’t know.”
She gasps.
“I don’t know what I think. Except that half the things you do here could not possibly have been in your job description.”
“There wasn’t a job description.”
“Of course not. Dorothy probably hired you out of the back of her car.”
“Oh, sure. So, I’m cut-rate? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not at all. I’m saying you…”
The flush on her cheeks, the light in her eyes, and the way her brows crinkle up all coalesce into an urge. Before I know it, I’m up.
“Any more meetings today?”
“No.”
I look around, eyeing the blinds. They’re cordless, so they won’t do. No extension cords either. Another sweep of the room gives me nothing until my attention focuses on the coat closet, and then I recall hanging her jacket up this morning. A trench coat. Ignoring Rae’s protestations, I tug the belt from the loops, test it, and finally drop to my knees beside her.
When our eyes meet, I see understanding dawn, mix with consternation, and turn into that perfect, imbalanced blend of excitement and hesitation.
“Do you need to use the restroom?”
Hernois high, breathy.
“Good.” I bend, wrap the belt around her legs and the chair’s central axis, test that she can still turn, and then tie it off into an easy-to-remove, front-facing bow.
“I can’t work like this.”
“Sure you can.” I spin her forward to prove my point, stand up, and return to my desk, much, much calmer than before.
In fact, I feel absolutely amazing.
“What if I need something?”
“I’ll get it.”
“Oh, please, that’s not—”
“What do you need?”
“Well, nothing right now. But if I do.”
“It’ll be my problem.”
She huffs, glances around, and cranes down in an attempt to look at where I’ve literally tied her to the seat. “Anyone can see.”
