Page 93 of Help Wanted

The next morning she went in to work and followed her normal routine. She started the coffeepot, and greeted the men before they went out to the shop.

She was busy, which made the day fly by. It was after three when Brady came in.

“Hey, how you doing?”

“Good,” she said, keeping her eyes on her screen.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

“I really have to get this in.”

“Look. At. Me.” The demand in his voice made her head jerk up. He smiled, but his eyes were hard and intent. He reminded her of a wolf.

“Yes?” she squeaked.

“Can we please talk this out? I know I must have scared the shit out of you when I started whaling on that guy. I lose it sometimes. That was one of those times. But I swear to you, I’m not so bad that I would ever hurt you, okay?”

“Sure. I know that.” She still couldn’t look at him.

“You’re not looking at me again. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull shit. Tell me, or I’m just going to sit on the edge of your desk until you do. And I’m going to eat your candy stash from your second drawer while I wait.”

“Fine.” She reached out to stop him from touching her candy. “I just—I wish you hadn’t had to see me throw up.”

After the incident, Brady had taken her outside until the police came. It was a good thing too, because she’d tossed her lunch in the bushes in front of the building. He’d held her hair and gone back inside to get her a paper towel.

The confession of her humiliation was met with laughter. She glared at him and he did a fair job of trying to get himself together.

“Sorry. Here I thought I’d freaked you out, and you’re worried about me seeing you throw up.”

Yes. Did he need to repeat it?

“Sweetie, I was in the military. Between injuries, drinking too much, or being scared out of our wits, vomiting was pretty much a daily occurrence. I don’t think any less of you because of it.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his little speech. She nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You have to stop thanking me. You’ve thanked me six-hundred-and-twenty-four times.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s maybe six-hundred twenty-one at the most.” It felt better to joke about it.

“I’m going to hug you, and we’re going to call it good. Then I’m going to ask you for a favor, but you shouldn’t feel obligated because I saved your life or anything.”

Again she chuckled as he wrapped her in his big arms. It was completely friendly. His hands stayed where they belonged.

“I want you to know I have a girlfriend now, which is why I’m not using my gallantry to weasel my way into your bed.”

“A girlfriend? Really?” She stepped back when he released her.

“It’s new. I’ll probably fuck it up, but I like her. She’s a doctor.”

“Get out.”