Page 155 of Fifty First Times (Sharing You 0.40)
And it’s not like there are only one or two people there waiting for us. There must be dozens crowded in the firm’s reception area: firefighters, building engineers, and of course, my coworkers. Including the group of assholes who didn’t hold the elevator for me.
“Dude,” one of them whispers, his eyes trailing down my bare legs.
Be brave, I tell myself. Brave, brave, brave, brave, brave. It’s almost like Russell can hear me because his fingers tighten around mine. He steps forward, moving so that he’s standing in front of me in an attempt to block me from the view of so many prying eyes.
Perhaps I’d have been able to keep it together if at that moment Kauffman hadn’t stepped forward, scowling. His eyes take in everything, lingering on me before shifting to Russell. “What is this?” he asks.
As though I’m not a human being. As though I’m not the intern who’s been working for him for the past several weeks.
Russell’s back tightens, the muscles pulling his spine rigid and straight. “Happy birthday, Dad,” he says, the words sharp.
Oh, fuck. My stomach revolts and I run. Bolting down a side hallway, I shove my way into the ladies’ room and slam the door closed behind me. There’s no lock and I press my back against the door, praying that no one followed me.
No luck. Naturally. There’s a tentative knock and I close my eyes, willing the tears to please, please wait. Just until I can get out of here. The knock sounds again and I hate the disappointment I feel when I recognize the voice and realize it’s not Russell.
“Come on, MacKenzie—I’m not leaving,” my friend Sarah says. With a sigh I crack open the door, making sure she’s alone before letting her in.
She looks me over and places her hands on my shoulders, eyes full of concern. “You okay?” she asks. I nod, not trusting myself to speak just yet.
“Good,” she says. With a pat on my shoulders she strolls over to the bank of sinks and hops up onto the counter so that she’s sitting, facing me. “Because that guy was really hot and I want all the details.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. Which Sarah of course knew because she’s been my friend since the first month of college. It’s one of the reasons I’d ended up applying here in the first place—because I’d already know someone and wouldn’t have to struggle through meeting new people.
“So?” she says, waving her hand in a let’s-hear-it motion. “Spill.”
I groan and sort through my clothes before pulling them on. “There’s nothing to tell,” I say, even as the evening replays itself over and over again in my head. The feel of his lips trailing along the back of my knee, his fingers dancing across my abdomen.
“MacKenzie,” she says, frowning. “Right now you’re holding your underwear rather than wearing it. I’d say there’s a story behind that.”
My cheeks blaze. “So we hooked up,” I mumble.
“With Kauffman’s son?”
I groan again. “I didn’t know he was Kauffman’s son at the time.” And then I remember what I said in the elevator and cringe. “I called his father an asshole.”
“Can’t fault you there—his father is an asshole. Though who knew such an asshole could produce something that hot?”
I frown at her, the expression somewhat losing some of its edge when I stumble trying to tug on my damp skirt.
“Come on, Kenzie,” she wheedles. “It’s just that you’ve never been the kind of girl to hook up with a random guy. You can’t fault me for wanting to know more.”
Closing my eyes, I stand and let my head fall back against the door. The thing of it is, I can still smell him, drifting up from the collar of his shirt. From my skin. I shake my head, trying to banish the memory.
“I liked him,” I say softly. “Which I know is stupid because we barely know each other. But . . .” I shrug, not knowing how to explain.
I hear Sarah hop down from the counter and walk toward me, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She takes my hands in hers. “It’ll be okay, Kenzie,” she says, suddenly serious. “You’ll either hear from him again, in which case, great, you can go out with him and see if there’s anything there. Or you won’t hear from him, in which case, he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you.”
“It’s not that easy,” I say, sighing. It’s never that easy when it comes to me and other guys. Especially one who makes me feel the way Russell did: alive. Sexy. Brave.
Desired. I think about his lips curving across my collarbone, the growl deep in his throat as he slowly unbuttoned my shirt. His heat.
Sarah tugs my hands until I look down at her. “It is that easy. You have to make men deserve you.”
I tell her the fear that’s been circling through my head ever since the elevator doors opened and I realized Russell is Kauffman’s son. “He hates his father and knew I was working for him. What if he just hooked up with me as some sort of power play against his dad?”
She pauses, thinking this over and frowning. “Then he’s just as big of an asshole as his father and doesn’t deserve you.”
My stomach twists at the thought. I don’t want Russell to be an asshole.
