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He grins. “I knew there was a rebel deep down inside that debutante package. Let’s go!” He waves an arm and his long legs start walking quickly down the hallway.
I hesitate, but then decide it’s okay to have a little fun. And I follow him.
Chapter 5
Brooks
Monday morning, I arrive at the office downtown dressed casually as usual. I’m going to cover up my clothes with my lab coat, anyway. Tan dress pants, long-sleeved Henley, and backwards baseball cap. My signature work look. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I dressed like this for work. She has high expectations of her children’s image. But work is my safe place … and the one place Diane Windell isn’t allowed. She doesn’t have clearance. I told her our lab is top secret, employees only … which is kind of true at least. But we’re designing medical implants … not nuclear weapons.
Vanderwin Technologies is the name Molly and I came up for our company. It combines our last names: Vanderbilt and Windell. Vanderwin has been successful in the last few years since getting FDA approval for our implants. But it’s not huge. We rent out the top floor of a three-story building, and, for now, the space suffices. Almost half of the space is for the lab where I design and test products. A quarter is Molly’s office, and the rest is an open office space for our half-dozen other employees. Glass separates each space to keep the areas bright and open. I love how I can see the dim, under-cabinet blue lights from the lab as soon as I step foot on the third floor. There’s only a thick glass door separating me from the office. I place my thumb on the security scanner and the door beeps, opening automatically.
The first thing I do is look toward Molly’s office. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a ballerina bun, leaving just her thick bangs hanging down. I can’t see her entire outfit, but she’s wearing something pink. She glances up, smiling at me before scribbling some notes on the pad in front of her and saying something to whoever she’s speaking with.
That smile. It instantly makes my morning brighter. I love working with Molly.
What could be better than working with your best friend? (Besides possibly kissing her).
Hope, a friend Molly met at tennis and one of our very first employees, smiles and greets me at the reception desk. Her friendly smile and bouncy blonde curls make her the picture-perfect receptionist. And she has the work ethic to boot. “Good morning, Mr. Windell!”
I tilt my head and shoot her a mock glare. She knows I hate being called Mr. Windell and does it just to annoy me.
“Good morning, Miss McCully.”
She chuckles, then the phone rings and she answers in her chipper voice, “Good morning! Vanderwin Technologies, Hope speaking.”
I continue walking and every employee I pass glances up at me from their desks with friendly smiles. I notice Layla, Molly’s other tennis friend-turned-medical-sales manager. Her dark hair is pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, and my steps slow when I see the goofy smirk on her face.
“What?” I ask, stopping next to her desk.
She shakes her head and busies herself typing on her computer. “Nothing.”
Okay … that was weird.
I walk toward the lab, stopping to scan my thumb print again at the door. It opens and I walk inside, hanging my Patagonia backpack on a peg and grabbing a clean white lab coat.
Pulling my laptop out of my satchel, I open the files I’ve been working on. Breast and glute implants got us started, but plastic surgery isn’t my end goal for Vanderwin Technologies. I glance at my designs for knee replacement surgeries and study it, seeing what I’m missing to make it even more functional. I’m lost in thought until I hear the lab door beep.
Molly walks in smiling, but she seems nervous. Things between me and Molly have always been comfortable and natural, so this isn’t normal.
“There’s my brilliant best friend!” she says, moving toward me and slapping my shoulder with one hand.
“Okay, let’s have it,” I swivel on my metal stool to look directly into her big blue eyes. “What do you need?”
“Need? Ha! What would make you think that?” She messes with the collar on her pink dress, her telltale sign of nervousness. “Did I mention you look dashing today?”
I quirk a brow and study her face. I know she’s trying to butter me up for whatever mysterious reason, but she’s not one to pay compliments to my physical appearance. There’s the slightest blush coloring her cheeks now, making me feel a tingle of satisfaction.
“Dashing, huh?”
She gulps slowly and looks down at her pointy-toed shoes before tilting her head back up to look at me.
“Just tell me,” I say.
“Okay, I need a favor.” Her chest moves up and down with a heavy sigh and I try not to notice. “But before I ask, I want you to know that it’s okay for you to say no. There’s no pressure at all. No hard feelings.”
“Okay.” I chuckle. “Just get on with it already.”
“I’d also like to remind you of all the English papers I helped you with back in college out of the kindness of my heart, without asking for anything in return.”
