“Just recently.” Alex’s face softens into an easy smile as he reaches to shake Sasha’s hand. “Hey. I’m Alex.”
“Sasha Nicholson,” she offers, shaking. “You work with Casey?”
“Yep.” When he looks at me, a smirk plays on his lips, half there and then gone. “She’s… a pleasure.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, silently challenging the weak attempt at a compliment. Apleasure? It’s been exactly a month since Alex started withBite the Hand,and in that time, I’m pretty sure I’ve been nothing short of a headache for him to work with.
It’s not that I’ve ever deliberately sabotaged him. I cordially reply to all his emails, file every expense report he sends my way. But I’m not that helpful, either—not the way I’m helpful to everyone else on the team—and Alex and I both know it. Just this morning, we got into a disagreement over payroll projections. I may have used the word “egregious,” and he may have used the phrase “penny-pinching.”
But the worst part about the whole thing—the most abhorrent, disgusting aspect of it all—is that Alex Harrison isgoodat his job, and it feels like he’s doing that to meon purpose.Picking at my insecurities, drawing them to the surface of my skin with all his sparkly ideas and pitches, his easygoing conversations with everyone but me, his casual mentions of knowing a guy who can totally help with that roadblock we just hit.
I’ve never been the type of person toknow a guy.
“Can I steal Casey?” Alex asks as the hand not holding his beer dips into the pocket of his slacks. “I’ve got an idea to run by her that we should get aligned on before a big meeting tomorrow.”
“What meeting?” I ask, and Alex lets me read him just long enough that I understand he’s telling mejust go with me, for once.
Dougie still looks like he’s trying to swallow a bar of soap. He clearly doesn’t like Alex, and that’s got to be his only redeeming quality. There’s history between them.
If I figure it out, maybe I can use it against them both.
“As long as you’re making me money,” Dougie concedes.
Alex gives him a tight smile and jerks a nod. He faces me with his body, eyebrows raised in question, and gestures with his beer toward a balcony that overlooks the Hudson River. I walk past the Yankees agents, managers, and bankrollers toward the sunlight whispering along the water. The balcony is broad and gold rimmed, and the warmth of the September evening bathes me as the air-conditioning dissipates.
Resting my elbows on the balcony’s ledge, I squint at the horizon. “What do we need to get aligned on?”
“Nothing.”
I frown and turn back to look at him.
He’s golden and hazy right now, the sun clinging to his frame like he’s a magnet for it, with messy black hair after a long day tugging at it and dark circles under his eyes. He’s calm now that he’s outside of work—no filler conversation, no bright grin.
What I’ve realized over the past four weeks is that Alex Harrison’s personality is like a charge. He makes people happier. Makes them feel more at ease. I’ve noticed it happen, again and again and again. Alex has an ability to endear people to him on their very first impression.
I have never related to someone less.
But for the first time since our elevator exchange the day he started, his focus on me feels singular, undiluted. Like this man istaking the full measure of me and expending no energy on a single other thought. It’s making my head spin, making my body react in a way I don’t want to be held responsible for. In fact, the way I’m physically drawn in only makes me more frustrated at the royal flush poker hand the universe dealt him. He’s attractiveandrichandcharismaticandsmart. With millions of adoring HR reps.
Where is the fatal flaw?
“If it wasn’t about work, what did you really want?” I ask.
“I saw Dougie…” Alex drifts off, looking at a spot above my head. He doesn’t say it—touch you—but I blush anyway, like I’m the one who did something wrong. “Thought you might need an out from that conversation.”
I think about saying,I didn’t,orI could have walked away on my own,or eventhank you.What comes out instead is “Why don’t you like him?”
Alex shoots me a flat look. “What gave you that impression?”
I take another sip of my drink, feel the crisp alcohol slide down my throat. “You seemed about as thrilled to see him as my boss is after his expense touchbase with the COO.”
Alex smirks. “Well, the COOisa nightmare. Did you hear about his ex-wife? Benny was giving me the scoop last week.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Alex rolls his eyes. It’s a gesture I’ve become distinctly familiar with, since he rolls his eyes at mea lot.“I dislike the subject.”
“Whydo you dislike the subject?”
