She's chewing another bite of food, not seeming one bit malicious, but I ask the nagging question anyway. "Why is that?"
She swallows and takes a sip of her drink. "Because my brother is amazing. But he's also very … " she lets the words trail off, as though she's searching for the least offensive way to describe him.
"He hovers too much?" I suggest, though I personally wouldn't have a clue how that felt.
No one has ever cared too much about me.
She grins. "I was going to say aggressive. He means well, but he tends to intimidate anyone else in my life. I'd be afraid that he would pay you a visit and expect a day-to-day progress report. I want him to know, without any uncertainty, that I'm capable. This is mine. I want to make it on my own and prove I deserve to be here without any doubt niggling in the back of my mind."
I should tell her the truth about my history with the Sterlings, but I like how she sees me: Strong. Confident. In control of my life.
She never knew the old me surrounded by self-doubt and loathing. She never saw the broken shell I stepped out of before I became this woman.
And I don't want her to see it.
"I should tell you that I'm dating Dale." Her eyes widen fractionally. "We haven't been together but a few days, but even if we'd been together for months, that wouldn't matter. This is your life, and if you wish to keep this to yourself, I support and understand that. As your employer, I have no right to disclose anything you don't want shared. Business is business and personal is personal. I can straddle that line with ease and finesse."
The relieved smile on her face spreads as the tension evaporates, her shoulders and body relaxing with the promise.
"So you're dating Dale?" she asks, her smile growing. "I like that. I like you. I'd love for you to become part of the circle."
My eyebrows go up in confusion. "Circle?"
Before she can answer, there's a knock at the door, and my assistant steps in, smiling briefly at Britt before eyeing me.
"Vivica Drivel is here to see you about a business transaction," she explains.
I nod as I stand. "Tell her I'll speak with her in the conference room."
She nods before ducking out.
Britt starts to stand, but I put a hand on her shoulder. "Finish your lunch. Then make sure you have all those recorded notes to hand out to everyone from today's meetings."
"I've already filed those notes and emailed them to everyone," she says, blinking up at me. "Was I supposed to wait?"
A slow grin crosses my lips. Though our backstories are very different, Britt is a younger version of myself before I was hardened to fit into this world full of sharks. I want to make sure she never loses that sweet smile she gives so freely.
"You did great. Impressively so. I sent an email with another list of tasks I need finished before you leave."
She nods and starts eating her sandwich faster, and I laugh under my breath before ducking out.
Vivica stands as I enter the conference room.
"Why here and not your office?" she asks, confused.
"Got a Sterling in my office," I say absently, my mind stirring over some of Britt's story.
What if Dane hadn't found her? She surely wouldn't be on this path now, and all that drive and brilliance might be wasting away.
"Dale Sterling?" Vivica asks as my thoughts muddle on.
"No," I say, distracted as I sit down.
"Well, I just stopped by to tell you of the progress … "
Her words rattle on, sounding distant as my own thoughts stay fixed on Britt. It's been a while since I reached for a pen and paper and started scribbling, but that's exactly what I'm doing right now, because an idea has struck hard and fast.
And for a change, it's something of substance. Something meaningful.
"I've lost you. I thought this was the most important thing in the world, and you're totally ignoring me," Vivica says, hovering over my shoulder to see what I'm doing.
"Can we do this some other time?" I ask, standing abruptly.
"Of course," she mutters as I head to my creativity and design room, walking past Frank.
And for the next three hours, I sit behind a different desk and just create, ignoring all my appointments, all my phone calls, and all my messages.
I feel inspired for the first time in I can't even remember how long.
Who would have thought it'd be a Sterling that inspired me? And not even the Sterling I'm obsessed with.
Chapter 20
HARLEY
Okay, so now I feel like an idiot as I stare at my phone. A thirteen-year-old idiot to be more precise.
I flip on my game station, pulling up Pirate Nights and Zombies, and then … check my phone again to see if a text has magically appeared.
No such luck.
I assumed after last night, Dale and I had something a little more concrete, which is stupid. Two dates does not a relationship make. And I'm a little mortified that I told Britt we were dating.
What if she casually brings it up? It wouldn't be done with malice, but out of excitement. What if he realizes I'm a stage-five clinger when it comes to him?
Still not doodling his name on my notebooks, so all is good for now.
I pop a cheese puff in my mouth as the game comes on. I don't want to play with the 'live' group I normally do, so I opt for single player instead. There's a shit-talking twelve-year-old in that group that is better at running his mouth than slicing up zombies.
Very distracting.
And annoying.
Just as I slice a zombie's head off, my doorbell rings. I glance at the time, seeing it's just after seven, and stand to go to the door, wondering if Vivica forgot something.
I immediately regret swinging my door open when I see a smiling Dale on my stoop, his eyes raking over me as that grin grows.
Note to self: Dale Sterling doesn't bother calling. This is now twice he's just shown up to find me completely unaware with no warning.
I guess that's redundant, but you get the fucking point.
"Dale," I hiss, wishing I could shut the door in his face and dive to the bedroom to put my pretty on.
"Harley," he says, mocking the surprise in my tone.
I'm in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Not the cute sweatpants that girls wear in public to act like they're sexy when they're slouchy. Nope. These are the huge, baggy, I'm-going-to-need-some-room sweatpants with ketchup and mustard stains visible. And I think a soy sauce stain too.
The t-shirt hangs to my knees, and it's not cute either. Like, not at all. I'm fairly sure there's a hole in my armpit, if I'm being honest.
And my hair? Yeah. It's in a messy ball on my head, and not that messy ball women spend an hour on that looks sexy messy. Nope. Not me.
I discarded all my pretty when it didn't look like I'd be seeing Dale tonight. And in place of my pretty is a messy nightmare.
"Can I come in?" Dale asks, amused as I continue to gape at him like he'll disappear or my fairy godmother will show up to wave her wand over me and save the day.
Neither happen.
Damn fairy godmother.
"Why are you here?" I blurt out.
His eyebrows raise. "Because I wanted to see you. You'd already left the office, so I thought I'd come see if you were home."
"And you didn't think to call?"
At my question, his lips thin. I realize it sounds more like I don't want to see him than anything, so I add, "I look like shit, Dale. I'd rather have some warning before you show up so I can keep my pretty on."
His smile reforms, and he winks at me as he pushes his way in, his hands settling on my hips.
"I prefer to just show up. Sorry. Habit of mine."
"Duly noted," I grumble, refusing to glance in the mirror that will affirm my atrocious image.
This means I'll never get to be messy, because I'll have to stay pretty and stay on guard. He's like a ninja that can pop up at any time.
"Besides," he says, tugging me closer, "I prefer the dressed down version of you. It seems more real."
My heart does a little flip in my chest, and I grin like an idiot. Because, well, I am an idiot when I'm around Dale.
I'm still debating whether I like that or not, but I do know I like him. It still seems surreal that this is actually happening.
"I was going to see if you wanted to grab dinner, but … I'm good with staying in," he says, letting his eyes rake over me again.
Yeah. I still don't feel sexy.
"Staying in sounds more promising."
His smile only broadens, and he takes a step back as I shut and lock the door. For some reason, I'm twice as nervous with him being in my space.
Last night, he dropped me off, walked me to my door, and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. He went so far as to tell me if he kissed me, he wouldn't stop.
I had no problem with that. But he left anyway.
Now he's inside my house. My space. And there's totally a Pokemon poster in my foyer. Right next to a Lord of the Rings poster.
My interests are very varied.
He eyes them before lifting his gaze to a pirate doll that is in a case on the shelf.
"Eclectic," he says, smirking.
"Thirsty?" I ask, wanting him to not look at my wall decorations.
His eyes swing back to me. "I could use a drink. Water preferably."