Exploited
Page 3
I put my hand on his arm. His long-sleeved shirt was a soft cotton. High quality. He was dressing to impress. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t come in here very often. Maybe I should change that.”
Wow, that was beyond cheesy. I couldn’t help but wince. “Ugh, that was worse than your ‘Do you come here often,’ wasn’t it?”
His laugh was rich and deep. The kind that showed he meant it.
He got to his feet and held out his hand, which I took readily. No hesitation. I let him wrap his fingers around my much smaller ones. He squeezed. Only slightly, but I felt it. A slight tug and I was up again, all of my belongings back in my purse where they belonged.
My hero.
“Thanks.” I pushed my hair out of my face and smiled. He liked it. My too-big eyes and overly pronounced nose didn’t matter. His eyes were warm as he looked at me.
“My name’s Mason. Mason Kohler.” It was familiar. Like well-worn words on the tongue.
“Hi, Mason. I’m Hannah Whelan. Nice to meet you.”
The line inched forward. I didn’t need to glance at the time on my phone to know I was going to be late for work.
“Welcome to Nan’s. Our special this morning is a caramel latte with your choice of pastry,” the girl behind the counter said, not making eye contact with Mason.
I put my hand on his arm again. I was being forward. It was entirely out of character. “Let me get your order. Coffee, bagel, whatever. It’s on me. It’s the least I can do for helping me reload the Tardis.”
Mason chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hannah, are you for real? You like the Dandy Warhols and you make funny Doctor Who references? I may take you home and never let you leave,” he teased.
He said it roughly. Possessively. We’d only just met and he felt it.
I did too.
I dropped my voice to a whisper and leaned close, as if telling him a secret. A very important secret. “Wait until you see my collection of Lord of the Rings figurines. You’ll lose your mind.”
“Can I take your order, please?” the barista asked again, clearly not appreciating our witty banter.
“Oh, sorry. I’ll have the special and he’ll have—” I glanced up at my new friend.
“Coffee. Black,” he told the girl.
I made a face. “Black coffee? Really? I offer to buy you whatever you want and you get black coffee?”
Mason shrugged. “I’m a man of simple tastes.”
We moved off to the side to wait for our orders. It didn’t take long, unfortunately. Before I could say much else, the sour-faced barista handed us our coffees and took my money.
We walked outside together, our conversation light. Observations about the unnaturally long winter. Random comments regarding the traffic.
“It looks pretty bad out there this morning. I heard there’s a nasty accident causing gridlock,” Mason stated as we lingered on the sidewalk.
“Do you have far to go?” I asked him.
“I work in the city,” he responded vaguely.
“Oh. In the city,” I repeated.
Mason cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I just moved here from DC a few weeks ago. I was transferred. Anyway, I should probably get going.”
I wouldn’t act disappointed. Even though I was. “Oh, me too. I’m already late.” I nodded my head toward his coffee cup. “Enjoy your coffee. If you can enjoy something with no flavor,” I said with a laugh.
It had been a long time since I’d chitchatted. I thought I was doing a good job. I couldn’t really tell. Mason hadn’t made some ridiculous excuse to leave yet, so things must be going well.
Mason grinned. “I hope we do this again.”
I widened my eyes fractionally. “What? Dump my stuff on the floor and act like an idiot?”
Mason snorted. “No, the talking. And the coffee. But maybe for longer next time.”
Be cool. He likes indie bands and Doctor Who jokes; he doesn’t want needy and overly enthusiastic.
“Sure. If I see you around,” I replied offhandedly. But my smile was genuine. I meant it too.
“I usually stop in on my way to the office. This time every day,” Mason offered.
I tingled. But I somehow stayed cool. Years and years of not feeling much made it easy to play the game.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I raised an eyebrow.
Mason ran his thumb along the curve of the to-go cup, licking his lips, which were probably dry. He was a little bit nervous. Just like me. It made me feel less awkward.
“I’m trying to tell you that I’d like to see you again, Hannah Whelan. And that maybe I can buy you coffee tomorrow morning.” His eyes met mine and we were both smiling.
“That would be nice, Mason.” I said his name softly. Deliberately.
I turned on my heel and walked away, not allowing myself to stay any longer.
I knew when it was time to run.
Chapter 2
Hannah
I was almost thirty minutes late by the time I walked into Holt IT Solutions. Stan, the security guard who spent his days loitering in the lobby, barely looked up when I arrived. Like I said, I did well fading into the background.
I slipped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor. I was the only one inside. Everyone was already at their respective desks, going about their respective days.
When the doors finally opened on my floor, I got out and hurried to my desk. I kept my head down, my purse tucked against my side. No one looked up as I passed.
I sat down in my cubicle and nodded my head in greeting to Carl, the middle-aged man in the cubicle beside me. He didn’t acknowledge me. He never did. I didn’t take it personally. It never bothered me that he didn’t see me. I wasn’t someone he would pay much attention to.
I doubted he even remembered my name. I had been working there as an IT consultant for almost five years and I had barely shared a handful of words with most of the people around me.
They knew nothing about me.
But I knew everything about them.
I glanced at Carl, his head propped up by his hand, idly clicking his mouse as he stared blankly at his computer screen.
I knew he wasn’t working but instead looking up gym memberships and weight-loss supplements. This was after he had checked his social media accounts, hoping someone had commented on the picture he took of his dinner last night, just so he could feel as if someone gave a shit.
Wow, that was beyond cheesy. I couldn’t help but wince. “Ugh, that was worse than your ‘Do you come here often,’ wasn’t it?”
His laugh was rich and deep. The kind that showed he meant it.
He got to his feet and held out his hand, which I took readily. No hesitation. I let him wrap his fingers around my much smaller ones. He squeezed. Only slightly, but I felt it. A slight tug and I was up again, all of my belongings back in my purse where they belonged.
My hero.
“Thanks.” I pushed my hair out of my face and smiled. He liked it. My too-big eyes and overly pronounced nose didn’t matter. His eyes were warm as he looked at me.
“My name’s Mason. Mason Kohler.” It was familiar. Like well-worn words on the tongue.
“Hi, Mason. I’m Hannah Whelan. Nice to meet you.”
The line inched forward. I didn’t need to glance at the time on my phone to know I was going to be late for work.
“Welcome to Nan’s. Our special this morning is a caramel latte with your choice of pastry,” the girl behind the counter said, not making eye contact with Mason.
I put my hand on his arm again. I was being forward. It was entirely out of character. “Let me get your order. Coffee, bagel, whatever. It’s on me. It’s the least I can do for helping me reload the Tardis.”
Mason chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hannah, are you for real? You like the Dandy Warhols and you make funny Doctor Who references? I may take you home and never let you leave,” he teased.
He said it roughly. Possessively. We’d only just met and he felt it.
I did too.
I dropped my voice to a whisper and leaned close, as if telling him a secret. A very important secret. “Wait until you see my collection of Lord of the Rings figurines. You’ll lose your mind.”
“Can I take your order, please?” the barista asked again, clearly not appreciating our witty banter.
“Oh, sorry. I’ll have the special and he’ll have—” I glanced up at my new friend.
“Coffee. Black,” he told the girl.
I made a face. “Black coffee? Really? I offer to buy you whatever you want and you get black coffee?”
Mason shrugged. “I’m a man of simple tastes.”
We moved off to the side to wait for our orders. It didn’t take long, unfortunately. Before I could say much else, the sour-faced barista handed us our coffees and took my money.
We walked outside together, our conversation light. Observations about the unnaturally long winter. Random comments regarding the traffic.
“It looks pretty bad out there this morning. I heard there’s a nasty accident causing gridlock,” Mason stated as we lingered on the sidewalk.
“Do you have far to go?” I asked him.
“I work in the city,” he responded vaguely.
“Oh. In the city,” I repeated.
Mason cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I just moved here from DC a few weeks ago. I was transferred. Anyway, I should probably get going.”
I wouldn’t act disappointed. Even though I was. “Oh, me too. I’m already late.” I nodded my head toward his coffee cup. “Enjoy your coffee. If you can enjoy something with no flavor,” I said with a laugh.
It had been a long time since I’d chitchatted. I thought I was doing a good job. I couldn’t really tell. Mason hadn’t made some ridiculous excuse to leave yet, so things must be going well.
Mason grinned. “I hope we do this again.”
I widened my eyes fractionally. “What? Dump my stuff on the floor and act like an idiot?”
Mason snorted. “No, the talking. And the coffee. But maybe for longer next time.”
Be cool. He likes indie bands and Doctor Who jokes; he doesn’t want needy and overly enthusiastic.
“Sure. If I see you around,” I replied offhandedly. But my smile was genuine. I meant it too.
“I usually stop in on my way to the office. This time every day,” Mason offered.
I tingled. But I somehow stayed cool. Years and years of not feeling much made it easy to play the game.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I raised an eyebrow.
Mason ran his thumb along the curve of the to-go cup, licking his lips, which were probably dry. He was a little bit nervous. Just like me. It made me feel less awkward.
“I’m trying to tell you that I’d like to see you again, Hannah Whelan. And that maybe I can buy you coffee tomorrow morning.” His eyes met mine and we were both smiling.
“That would be nice, Mason.” I said his name softly. Deliberately.
I turned on my heel and walked away, not allowing myself to stay any longer.
I knew when it was time to run.
Chapter 2
Hannah
I was almost thirty minutes late by the time I walked into Holt IT Solutions. Stan, the security guard who spent his days loitering in the lobby, barely looked up when I arrived. Like I said, I did well fading into the background.
I slipped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor. I was the only one inside. Everyone was already at their respective desks, going about their respective days.
When the doors finally opened on my floor, I got out and hurried to my desk. I kept my head down, my purse tucked against my side. No one looked up as I passed.
I sat down in my cubicle and nodded my head in greeting to Carl, the middle-aged man in the cubicle beside me. He didn’t acknowledge me. He never did. I didn’t take it personally. It never bothered me that he didn’t see me. I wasn’t someone he would pay much attention to.
I doubted he even remembered my name. I had been working there as an IT consultant for almost five years and I had barely shared a handful of words with most of the people around me.
They knew nothing about me.
But I knew everything about them.
I glanced at Carl, his head propped up by his hand, idly clicking his mouse as he stared blankly at his computer screen.
I knew he wasn’t working but instead looking up gym memberships and weight-loss supplements. This was after he had checked his social media accounts, hoping someone had commented on the picture he took of his dinner last night, just so he could feel as if someone gave a shit.
