Chapter Five
Tia
"You have a visitor," Lorna says, poking her head into my office a little after noon.
I blink at my screen and then at her, confused. "A visitor? I don't have anyone on my schedule today."
She just shrugs like that's not her problem. "You want me to send him back?"
"Who?"
"Lacy didn't give me his name," she says. "She just told me to tell you that you have an important visitor. Guess he's rich and wants to donate." Her eyes light up as soon as she says it, as if the prospect excites her. Truthfully, it does me, too. It takes a fortune to keep a nonprofit running. Even with Kingston and Evie's support, we don't have the resources to do nearly as much as we'd like for low-income students. "She said you'd take care of him."
I love my boss, really, I do. But a little heads up once in a while would be nice. My office is a natural disaster right now, not suitable for a meeting with a potential donor.
"Give me two minutes, and then bring him back," I mutter to Lorna, glancing at my messy desk. I quickly set about straightening it, shoving paperwork into drawers, dusting crumbs off the surface, and tucking the trash can out of sight. And then I run my hands through my hair, fluffing it a little.
There's nothing I can do about the Hearthstone t-shirt and faded jeans I wore today. Had I known I'd have a meeting with a potential donor, I would have dressed up, but today was supposed to be a data day, not a meeting day.
I'm almost finished applying a coat of lip gloss when Lorna appears in the doorway again. But it isn't her that my eyes lock on. It's the smug giant standing behind her in a faded blue Henley and jeans, grinning like the fucking devil.
The gloss clatters to the desk, my entire body surging with some unholy energy I don't even have a name for. It's some combination of desire, frustration, and excitement that's way, way too dangerous.
"You," I growl, glaring daggers at Briggs.
"Me," he says, that smirk growing. "Surprised to see me?"
As soon as he asks, I realize that I'm not all that surprised. I've spent most of the last few weeks looking over my shoulder, justwaiting for him to appear. I think part of me hoped he would. The other part prayed he wouldn't.
The man has me in knots. Every damn time he texts me, I get all twisted up again. At least once a day, I think about texting him back, just to tell him to quit texting me. And then I think about texting him to ask why he's still texting me. I should have blocked his number when I blocked him on social media, but some sick sense of curiosity stopped me. Iwantedto know what he'd say next.
Turns out, he's a font of information. At least every other day, he texts me some random fact I'll absolutely never need to know—like what to do if a bear attacks, or how cheese was discovered, or where the first official hockey game was played.
Sometimes, when I least expect it, he texts the things that keep me up at night. Like his text yesterday telling me that he dreams about the sound I made when he kissed me at Sophie and Harlan's wedding. It's those texts that keep my mind spinning.
Surely there are thousands of women out there willing to play whatever game this is to him. So, why me?
I haven't come up with a good answer to that question yet, and that worries me. When I was the target back in college, it made some sort of sick, twisted sense.
Kingston had just been drafted. Of course a bunch of disgusting college boys latched onto his sister, like winning a bet to sleep with her would give them some sort of legendary status. I wasn't a person to them, not really. I was just the thing meant to connect them to their hero.
This is different. Briggs knows Kingston. They aren't mortal enemies. They don't dislike each other. Brigg isn't a fanboy. He isn't a jerk of a college boy, either. And having spent time with Harlan, I can't imagine his brother being the kind of guy who'd turn anyone into a stupid bet. Harlan would never tolerate that shit from either of his brothers.
So…why me? Has Briggs decided to turn me into some project because I don't date hockey players? Surely his ego isn't that fragile…right?
I don't know, and not knowing is making me feral. So is the fact that a big part of me doesn't believe that's it at all. I saw the look on his face at the wedding. Whatever he wants from me, it isn't a good time. He doesn't want to have his ego stroked. It's bigger…deeper.
And that makes less sense than anything else because he doesn't know me. But it makes more sense than anything else, too. Because I don't know him either…and I still can't get him out of my head.
I'm in so much fucking trouble I'd laugh if it were even remotely funny.
"Uh, you two know each other?" Lorna asks, glancing between us.
"No," I lie.
"Absolutely," Briggs says at the same exact moment.
"O-kay then…" Lorna's brows furrow before she shakes her head. "I'm just going to leave you two to figure that out, then…"
