Not Quite Crazy
Page 14
And soda
How about juice?
A frown emoji preceded his response. I’m 15 not 5.
Rachel bought both.
Her phone pinged again. She looked at the message, not the sender.
Silver and gold, or gold and green?
She paused. Is this a trick question?
I’m planning the Christmas party.
Rachel scratched her head. What party? She hit “Send” before she realized it wasn’t Owen who was texting her.
No, it was Jason. The man who she’d thought about all day long at work and yet hadn’t seen or heard from once. To tell the truth, she was surprised and slightly disappointed he hadn’t made an excuse to talk to her. Even though it would have been a mistake to do so.
The company Christmas . . . excuse me, holiday party.
Rachel moved out of the way of a woman trying to get to a box of Dr Pepper and huddled over her phone. Wait, you run a billion dollar company and you don’t have someone else planning the Christmas party?
Long story, starting with my mother. I’ll tell you when we pick up your Christmas tree tomorrow night. So, silver and gold or gold and green?
“Oh, you’re smooth,” she muttered to herself.
Gold and green. Tomorrow is a bad idea.
He didn’t take long to reply.
My phone is about to die. Pick you up at seven. Dress warm, it’s supposed to snow.
Her fingers moved fast. I told you we can’t date.
He didn’t reply.
Jason!
Nothing.
I don’t believe for a minute your phone is dead.
Still nothing.
Jason!!!
Zillion-dollar-company CEO and he doesn’t have a charger? She tossed her phone into her purse and made her way to the checkout.
Chapter Seven
Rachel must have checked her messages a dozen times an hour, every hour, right up until she left the office the next day. Jason had her in the palm of his hand. If she made a personal appearance in his office on the premise of cancelling their tree-buying date, she’d create the very gossip she was trying to avoid. If she didn’t, he’d show up on her doorstep.
She practiced how she was going to blow him off in person and give him a little piece of her mind about ignoring the dozen answer your messages she’d left on his cell phone. That was until she closed the door leading in from the garage and was greeted by Owen.
“Hey.”
“Hey, back,” she said.
“We’re getting a tree today, right?”
Oh, shit.
“I moved the couch away from the window to make room.”
She followed Owen from the back door through the kitchen and into the living room. Sure enough, Owen had made room for a tree and had even pulled the vacuum out and cleaned in places that hadn’t seen attention since before they’d moved in.
“Looks like someone is excited.”
He smiled. “Mom would want us to get a tree and make the most of what is gonna suck without her.”
Rachel stared straight ahead as his words sank in. “Yeah, she would.”
“What time is Stranded Car Guy getting here with the truck?”
“Seven,” she said, absently.
“I’ll pop a pizza in the oven so we’re ready to go. He’s not coming for dinner, right?”
“No.” No, he wasn’t coming for dinner, and now she wasn’t going to be able to deliver her premeditated speech.
“Cool.” Owen disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her staring at the empty space in the living room.
She closed her eyes, huffed out a long-winded breath, and went upstairs to change.
Jason turned onto Rachel’s street, his hands gripping the wheel. Sixteen . . . she had texted him sixteen times telling him they couldn’t date. She scolded him for not returning her texts, accused him of ignoring her to get his way. He deserved her wrath and was in fact ignoring her texts. Now, if she’d started saying things he wanted to hear, perhaps his phone would have miraculously returned from cell phone hell. The fact that she didn’t outright tell him to stay away gave him comfort that she wouldn’t close the door in his face. It didn’t hurt that he was her boss, as she had pointed out many times. Not that he would hold that against her if she really wasn’t interested. But she was. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have flirted with him over the phone. That was his theory, and he was sticking with it until she proved otherwise.
He was thirty minutes early. An extension ladder rattled in the back of the truck, a hammer sat in the front seat, and hooks used to hang Christmas lights filled a bag from a local hardware store. Along with a timer and outdoor extension cord. He wasn’t about to see what damage she could do to her face with a ladder if a simple kitchen door gave her the shiner she’d come to work with on Monday. He’d wiggled the details out of Gerald and earned the man’s unwanted advice about interoffice relationships.
Gerald had worked with Jason’s father long before Jason finished college. He was filling in as the head of marketing and at the same time keeping the company broker management in line. Gerald had worked in just about every end of Fairchild Charters with the exception of the mailroom. Anytime they lost a senior manager, Gerald was the one they called on to help fill the seat. He said he enjoyed the diversity, and the truth was, once under his guidance, the levels he managed took care of themselves. The man was invaluable. He was also fast approaching retirement, something Jason didn’t want to think about.
Rachel’s driveway was empty, but lights inside the house gave him hope that she hadn’t stepped out for the night to avoid him.
He removed the ladder from the truck first and set it up on the west side of the house. He considered starting the job of getting the hooks up before telling her he was there but decided against it. It was better to gauge the barometer of her mood before testing his parameters.
In a warm down jacket, prepared for rain or possible snow, and blue jeans and boots instead of his office attire, Jason knocked on her door twice and stood back.
Owen opened the door, a piece of pizza in his hand. “You’re early.”
Heat from inside rushed out.
“I am. Thought I’d get those lights up for you guys before we get the tree.”
Owen looked beyond the threshold and toward the ladder. “Good idea. I’ll get the lights from the garage.”
He turned and left Jason standing in the doorway. Once Owen disappeared from view, Rachel stepped around the corner. She wore a beige sweater and blue jeans that hugged her hips, it was hard not to stare.
“So your phone is dead, huh?”
He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Yeah. I thought it was the battery, but then . . .” He opened his palm and made a noise indicating the thing had blown up.
“Uh-huh . . . right.”
She didn’t believe him.
She was smart like that.
“So, single strand or . . . ?” He turned back to the outside, closing the cell phone conversation.
“Are you always this stubborn?” She’d crossed to the doorway and stepped out on her welcome mat.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask my brothers.” Jason smiled at her, noticed her holding back.
She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “The only reason I’m agreeing to this is because Owen is excited about the stupid tree.”
Jason wasn’t opposed to using Owen to have his foot in Rachel’s door.
“Trees are important.”
She narrowed her eyes and shivered.
How about juice?
A frown emoji preceded his response. I’m 15 not 5.
Rachel bought both.
Her phone pinged again. She looked at the message, not the sender.
Silver and gold, or gold and green?
She paused. Is this a trick question?
I’m planning the Christmas party.
Rachel scratched her head. What party? She hit “Send” before she realized it wasn’t Owen who was texting her.
No, it was Jason. The man who she’d thought about all day long at work and yet hadn’t seen or heard from once. To tell the truth, she was surprised and slightly disappointed he hadn’t made an excuse to talk to her. Even though it would have been a mistake to do so.
The company Christmas . . . excuse me, holiday party.
Rachel moved out of the way of a woman trying to get to a box of Dr Pepper and huddled over her phone. Wait, you run a billion dollar company and you don’t have someone else planning the Christmas party?
Long story, starting with my mother. I’ll tell you when we pick up your Christmas tree tomorrow night. So, silver and gold or gold and green?
“Oh, you’re smooth,” she muttered to herself.
Gold and green. Tomorrow is a bad idea.
He didn’t take long to reply.
My phone is about to die. Pick you up at seven. Dress warm, it’s supposed to snow.
Her fingers moved fast. I told you we can’t date.
He didn’t reply.
Jason!
Nothing.
I don’t believe for a minute your phone is dead.
Still nothing.
Jason!!!
Zillion-dollar-company CEO and he doesn’t have a charger? She tossed her phone into her purse and made her way to the checkout.
Chapter Seven
Rachel must have checked her messages a dozen times an hour, every hour, right up until she left the office the next day. Jason had her in the palm of his hand. If she made a personal appearance in his office on the premise of cancelling their tree-buying date, she’d create the very gossip she was trying to avoid. If she didn’t, he’d show up on her doorstep.
She practiced how she was going to blow him off in person and give him a little piece of her mind about ignoring the dozen answer your messages she’d left on his cell phone. That was until she closed the door leading in from the garage and was greeted by Owen.
“Hey.”
“Hey, back,” she said.
“We’re getting a tree today, right?”
Oh, shit.
“I moved the couch away from the window to make room.”
She followed Owen from the back door through the kitchen and into the living room. Sure enough, Owen had made room for a tree and had even pulled the vacuum out and cleaned in places that hadn’t seen attention since before they’d moved in.
“Looks like someone is excited.”
He smiled. “Mom would want us to get a tree and make the most of what is gonna suck without her.”
Rachel stared straight ahead as his words sank in. “Yeah, she would.”
“What time is Stranded Car Guy getting here with the truck?”
“Seven,” she said, absently.
“I’ll pop a pizza in the oven so we’re ready to go. He’s not coming for dinner, right?”
“No.” No, he wasn’t coming for dinner, and now she wasn’t going to be able to deliver her premeditated speech.
“Cool.” Owen disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her staring at the empty space in the living room.
She closed her eyes, huffed out a long-winded breath, and went upstairs to change.
Jason turned onto Rachel’s street, his hands gripping the wheel. Sixteen . . . she had texted him sixteen times telling him they couldn’t date. She scolded him for not returning her texts, accused him of ignoring her to get his way. He deserved her wrath and was in fact ignoring her texts. Now, if she’d started saying things he wanted to hear, perhaps his phone would have miraculously returned from cell phone hell. The fact that she didn’t outright tell him to stay away gave him comfort that she wouldn’t close the door in his face. It didn’t hurt that he was her boss, as she had pointed out many times. Not that he would hold that against her if she really wasn’t interested. But she was. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have flirted with him over the phone. That was his theory, and he was sticking with it until she proved otherwise.
He was thirty minutes early. An extension ladder rattled in the back of the truck, a hammer sat in the front seat, and hooks used to hang Christmas lights filled a bag from a local hardware store. Along with a timer and outdoor extension cord. He wasn’t about to see what damage she could do to her face with a ladder if a simple kitchen door gave her the shiner she’d come to work with on Monday. He’d wiggled the details out of Gerald and earned the man’s unwanted advice about interoffice relationships.
Gerald had worked with Jason’s father long before Jason finished college. He was filling in as the head of marketing and at the same time keeping the company broker management in line. Gerald had worked in just about every end of Fairchild Charters with the exception of the mailroom. Anytime they lost a senior manager, Gerald was the one they called on to help fill the seat. He said he enjoyed the diversity, and the truth was, once under his guidance, the levels he managed took care of themselves. The man was invaluable. He was also fast approaching retirement, something Jason didn’t want to think about.
Rachel’s driveway was empty, but lights inside the house gave him hope that she hadn’t stepped out for the night to avoid him.
He removed the ladder from the truck first and set it up on the west side of the house. He considered starting the job of getting the hooks up before telling her he was there but decided against it. It was better to gauge the barometer of her mood before testing his parameters.
In a warm down jacket, prepared for rain or possible snow, and blue jeans and boots instead of his office attire, Jason knocked on her door twice and stood back.
Owen opened the door, a piece of pizza in his hand. “You’re early.”
Heat from inside rushed out.
“I am. Thought I’d get those lights up for you guys before we get the tree.”
Owen looked beyond the threshold and toward the ladder. “Good idea. I’ll get the lights from the garage.”
He turned and left Jason standing in the doorway. Once Owen disappeared from view, Rachel stepped around the corner. She wore a beige sweater and blue jeans that hugged her hips, it was hard not to stare.
“So your phone is dead, huh?”
He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Yeah. I thought it was the battery, but then . . .” He opened his palm and made a noise indicating the thing had blown up.
“Uh-huh . . . right.”
She didn’t believe him.
She was smart like that.
“So, single strand or . . . ?” He turned back to the outside, closing the cell phone conversation.
“Are you always this stubborn?” She’d crossed to the doorway and stepped out on her welcome mat.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask my brothers.” Jason smiled at her, noticed her holding back.
She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “The only reason I’m agreeing to this is because Owen is excited about the stupid tree.”
Jason wasn’t opposed to using Owen to have his foot in Rachel’s door.
“Trees are important.”
She narrowed her eyes and shivered.
