She doesn’t look like a woman going through a divorce with two little kids to support. She looks like the colleague Hunter’s about to make a fool of himself over, based on his wide smile and the way he jumps to his feet the second she struggles with the smart board—she should be able to figure it out on her own at this point.
“Not your fault,” he insists. “This is a garbage laptop. We need to get you a new one.”
If he keeps flirting with the new hire, I’m going to give her his laptop.
“Can we get started?” I ask, my fingers tapping impatiently on the table. “I have places to be.”
She and Hunter exchange a quick glance.
He’s such a dick, Lucie’s gaze says.
I’d never treat you like that, Lucie, his replies.
She starts to review the prizes, and Hunter is watching her, no doubt memorizing every flick of her hand, every smile and sigh—in the rare moments when he’s not staring at her rack, that is.
“I’m so impressed,” he says. “The prizes and the—”
“Show us how you’ll track it,” I snap. If Hunter wants to suck up to her, he can do it on his own time. Better yet, he can do it from someone else’s company.
Her gaze jerks to mine and it’s a visceral thrill, that spark of irritation in her eyes—as if she’s just marched across the room and grabbed me by the lapels. I have a sudden, sharp memory of her climbing up the ladder last weekend. I’d be better off if I could forget.
“We’ve created a software program,” she says, her jaw grinding as she progresses to the next slide. “It allows employees to connect their devices and shows their progress in a couple of ways—a graph charting what they’ve done and one showing where their team stands compared to others.”
The software looks like something Apple spent years developing. Something I know she herself didn’t create…she can barely figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi.
“Who authorized you to use a programmer for this?” I demand, though I already know exactly who did it. Harvard MBA, my ass. “We’re already short-staffed. I can’t have someone wasting hours on this shit.”
Mark and Debbie are both staring at me when it’s Hunter they should be appalled by. I’m not the one blatantly hitting on a low-level employee. I have the right to know what the actual costs of this are.
“I didn’t use one of your programmers,” she says between her teeth. “I had a friend help me.”
A friend did all this for her? Was he treated to a little Lucie-swimming-in-a-tank-top show before he agreed? My eyes catch on the green of her dress, on her bare legs. Something about her leaves me unable to focus and it’s really becoming a problem. “We’ll let you know,” I say, gathering my things and heading for the door.
I need out of the goddamn room so I can think clearly.
No, I need her out of my goddamn company. This is not sustainable.
The moment I get to my office, I call the one person who might be able to fix this situation.
“Look who remembered how to use a phone,” Harrison says as he picks up. “You finally ready to file for divorce?”
We’ve been friends for more than half my life, which means I get to ignore half of what he says. It’s possible I ignore more than half. “No, I was wondering if you’re hiring. I’ve got a temp employee. She’s doing good work, but only here for a few more weeks. I thought you might have an opening. Something in the business office or human resources?”
“Caleb,” he says with a laugh, “I’m at a firm of thirty people and you’ve got a company with what—five hundred? I think if one of us has the flexibility to make a position for someone, it’s you. I’m sure as hell not hiring some chick you’re desperate to be rid of.”
“I’m not desperate to be rid of her,” I lie. “She doesn’t do anything we need.”
“Again, if she doesn’t have a single skill you can find a use for at an enormous company, what skill is she going to have that we can use? You don’t want her and you’re trying to pawn her off on me. Unless this is about your hot neighbor.”
“What?”
He laughs. “We all know. Mark told Liam.”
Fuck. The fact that Lucie works at my company is something I really wanted to keep to myself. “Look, she’s a hard worker. It’s just…uncomfortable.”
“Maybe,” he says, “uncomfortable is exactly what you need.”