Brandon is the perfect picture of innocence. “See? I’m not a monster.”
I swipe the container unceremoniously to the floor then pick up the rusty chair. It swings into the open air, making Brandon duck.
“You can’t bludgeon me with a chair at work, Kate!”
I stall with the tetanus chair halfway out the door. “Does that mean I can bludgeon younotat work?”
Brandon puffs a laugh. “Always so bloodthirsty. What, punching me in the face wasn’t enough for you?” He rubs a hand over the slight bruise shadowing his square jaw.
I smile sweetly. “Surprisingly, no.”
I whip my hair over my shoulder and stalk down the hall. After depositing the chair in a supply closet, I make a mental note to tell the elderly facility manager, Rick, about it later.
I flick my gaze toward the curved glass conference room. The table is surrounded by soft, upholstered chairs with wheels and somewhat decent back support.
Before anyone can witness my theft, I dart in and grab one. I yank the two neighboring chairs closer to mask the gap and wheel the chair out of the room.
Brandon is again manspreading across the desk, but his green gaze is laser-focused as his fingers fly across the keyboard in his lap. He glances at my new chair, and his mouth quirks for a second before his attention snaps back to his work.
Even though it’s been six months, I’ve never truly witnessed the colleague side of Brandon before. Val and Brandon usually hole up in Val’s office, and I’ve never technically been assigned a task with him.
The pinch of his black eyebrows, the offset tightness of his mouth as he stares his task in the face…it’s kinda hot. Despite the lack of a necktie, Brandon could almost pass as an employed grown-up.
Almost.
I smooth my black pencil skirt over my backside and sit down. Using my forearm, I slide Brandon’s mess back ten inches, rufflethrough my work tote, and line up my office supplies on the edge of the desk. I pull the basket of protein bars Amantha left into line with them and smile.
It falters when I notice Brandon watching me.
“What?”
He grins, lifting up one of my supplies. “You gonna need a three-hole-punch while we’re here?”
I huff. “I don’t know. Maybe. What if I need to three-hole-punch something while I’m in here? Orsomeone?”
A deep belly laugh flies out of him, and I can’t ward off a minuscule smile.
“And the office snack basket stayshere.” He drags it back into its original position. “That way I can monitor if you’re actually eating my peace offering. Wouldn’t wanna get three-hole-punched ‘cause you get hangry.”
“Youbrought these?”
“What, you think some office fairy flies around with your favorite protein bars?”
Heat crawls up my neck, but I slip behind a neutral mask with a shrug.
The silence grates at me for about eight minutes before I crack. “Should I ask what you’re working on? Aren’t we supposed to be coordinating?”
Brandon’s fingers continue to fly across his keyboard. “Private grant application I found this morning. Besides, Kendra told me she emailed you the list of donor prospects, so I assume you’re emailing them to set up phone calls?”
He assumed right, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Besides, the heat in my cheeks has flamed again at how professional his tone is.
“You…found a grant?” I ask, cool as a cucumber.
His lips twitch as his eyes meet mine. “Iamcapable of research, Kate.”
“Shocking.”
He goes back to typing as we descend into silence. I retrieve my earbuds from my purse then select my favorite yoga playlist. Soothing music calms my jitters as the hours begin to pass.
