Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Goes without saying.” In fact, if Blair had accused any other guy in this office—any actual guy—I’d have believed her first, and asked questions later. But Blair isn’t a woman coming forward. She’s a woman trying to sabotage another woman for reasons I’ve yet to uncover.
“Then what did you say to get her all riled up?” Ryan asks.
“Just that she was making serious allegations, and as such, we needed to follow the appropriate protocol, which doesn’t include firing someone without an investigation.”
“Screw protocol. We can’t have this kind of shit going on in our company, Jack. No way.”
“But Eric doesn’t even have—” A dick, I almost say, but catch myself just in time. “He doesn’t have access to her office.”
Not to mention the fact that at the time of the alleged exposure, “Eric” was busy getting soaped up in my shower after a rowdy after-work romp that may or may not have involved maple syrup.
“Clearly, he does,” Ryan says.
“I’m telling you, Ryan. She’s lying.”
Ryan lets out a frustrated breath. “Why the fuck would she do that?”
“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”
“Jesus, Jack.” Ryan hesitates; I can almost hear the damn wheels turning in his head. Then he says, “All right. Suspend the guy, pending investigation. That’s protocol. Then let legal do their thing. If the allegations are true, he’s out on his ass. Probably even facing charges.” Ryan sighs. “Look. I know I’ve been reluctant to admit we have problems in the office, but sexual harassment? That’s a zero-tolerance offense in my book.”
“We’re in agreement there.”
“What’s this Webb guy’s deal, anyway?” Ryan asks. “Blair says you vouched for him. Brought him in outside the usual channels.”
Technically Ryan brought “him” in the day he volunteered me to keep an eye on his sister, but no need to split hairs.
“Eric is not the bad guy here,” I say, keeping my voice measured. “Blair is up to something. I just need time to prove it.”
“Blair has been an excellent employee from the start. Opportunistic, sure. A little on the manipulative side. But I can’t see her lying about something like this.”
“You’ve been gone a while.”
“Three weeks is hardly a while, Jack.”
I shake my head. Isn’t it, though?
Three weeks ago, Ellie was my best friend’s little sister. A woman I crushed on from a distance, then did my best to avoid.
But somehow, between her first interview in that horrid fake ’stache and now, I’ve been swept up in her irresistible tide. I let my guard down.
I fell in love with her.
The realization hits me all at once, a sucker punch to the gut that nearly knocks the wind out of me.
I’m in love with Ellie Seyfried. With the sound of her laugh. With the way she closes her eyes and hums when she drinks strong coffee. With her singular devotion to cheese. With the way her brain works when she’s figuring out a tough research problem and the way she feels in my arms when I hold her close and the way she makes me want to be a better man.
For her.
Because a woman with Ellie’s heart and integrity and bone-deep commitment to making the world a kinder place deserves the best. I love watching her break through her own boundaries, and love standing beside her while she stands up for what she believes in.
Who she is, who she’s still becoming—they both inspire the hell out of me. I want in with Ellie, one hundred percent. I want to be there for every step of the adventure, no matter how hard things get. Now. Tomorrow. Always.
But thanks to my epic fumble Friday night, I’m not sure I’ll get that chance.
“I still don’t see Blair’s angle,” Ryan says, dragging me back to craptastic reality. “Odds are she’s telling the truth. Women don’t usually lie about this shit.”
“Well, this one is,” I say. After spending the better part of three weeks between Ellie’s thighs, or anticipating the next time I’d be between her thighs, or dreaming about the last time I’d been between her thighs, I’m pretty fucking certain “Eric Webb” is biologically incapable of exposing a dick to Blair or anyone else.
Not that I’m suicidal enough to share that tidbit with Ryan.
“I don’t have time for this,” Ryan continues. “Rictor and I are this close to locking down the Ian Fox account, and word is he’s got a couple of other guys from the team interested in what we have to say.”
“I know it’s bad timing—”
“Bad timing? No. Bad timing is when you come home a day early for spring break and walk in on your Dad banging his girlfriend on your favorite Star Wars sheets.”
“Dude.” I crack a smile, despite my dour mood. Ryan’s crazy. I love him like a brother, but hell, that boy needs some serious help. “Have you ever considered therapy? Just throwing it out there.”