Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
He raises his eyebrows as if to say, nice of you to catch up.
I turn back to the door and try again. What am I doing? Zach has almost a foot on me and probably four stone. If he can’t open it, how am I meant to?
“Try again,” I say.
“I’ve tried,” he replies.
I look him in the eye. “Try again. Maybe I loosened it for you.”
He chuckles, but to my surprise, doesn’t argue. He just steps forward anyway. I can tell by the way he braces his other hand on the doorframe and the tightening tendons in his neck that he gives it everything.
We’re stuck.
“I’ll call Jen,” I say.
He sighs and I grab my phone from my pocket.
“You get on with your work and I’ll figure this out,” I say. The pounding in my chest is getting worse. I haven’t had a panic attack since…since Shane and I split, but I can feel one threatening.
Zach goes back to behind his desk and I text Jen. But she’s on her way to the blood lab and then has to pick up lunch for Dr. Newman. I fire off an email to the building maintenance emergency number and get a standard we’ll get back to you reply.
There’s nothing to do but wait.
“Help is on the way,” I say, taking a seat. I keep my legs over to the side, so I’m facing the door and not his desk. It would be weird to sit here, staring at him. It’s not weird to sit and stare at a door—no, not at all.
I glance around the room and realize that Dr. Cove—or Zach—has been using the whiteboard. He’s rubbed off most of what he’s put on there, but I can make out a couple of letters. There’s a capital B and a “sec.”
I narrow my eyes and lean forward. Is that the word woman?
He obviously sees me looking, and snaps his head around to follow my gaze. He jumps up and grabs the board rubber. “Just some research I’m doing,” he explains.
Okay, so it’s clearly not research. He’s not a good liar. What’s he so secretive about? Is he ranking his current bedmates in order?
I smile and nod at him.
He goes back to his computer and I gaze down at my phone, willing Jen to get herself back here ASAP or maintenance to arrive on the scene yesterday.
I can see Zach out of the corner of my eye. He’s squinting at his computer. Then he’s pouting. Then he fake smiles.
What the hell?
He meets my eye. “Research?” I suggest.
“For a friend,” he says, completely unconvincingly. “He’s a psych. A psychologist. He’s sent out these questionnaires, and I’m filling one out. As a favor. Except…he’s sent me the wrong one. He’s sent me the one for women.”
“Oh,” I say like everything makes sense. But nothing makes sense, but I’m not sure it needs to. He’s over-explaining.
“Yeah, it’s all about male-female interaction in the workplace,” he continues.
I glance at my phone to see if any of my lifelines have responded. No such luck.
“They’re asking how women know a work colleague is interested in them in a romantic way. I was just trying to put myself in a woman’s shoes and…” He trails off.
“You’re asking me how I’d know if a work colleague was interested in me in a romantic way?” Nothing he’s saying adds up. If I saw on paper what he’s just asked me, I’d assume he was cack-handedly coming on to me, which would be super-flattering and also very awkward because he’s my boss and I’m still…I’m still post-Shane. But there’s no way he’s this clumsy at making a pass at a woman. He’s full-on movie-star gorgeous. Surely looks like his come with a degree of…game?
His eyes flash wide. “No!” He sounds horrified. “I’m just wondering, in the abstract—my friend doing his research paper,” he corrects and his cheeks tinge pink with embarrassment. It’s one hundred percent adorable. “He’s interested in how a woman would know—never mind.”
From that reaction, it’s clear he’s not making a move on me. Considering this is the first time Zach has asked for my help, I want to comply. If this is what it means to be a good assistant in this situation, I’m ready to prove my worth.
“Let me think,” I say. This should be easy for me—I worked with my boyfriend for ten years. Surely, I’m the expert in this scenario. In the early days, Shane and I used to make out during the day, but that hadn’t happened for years before I left. Most of the time, work bled into our social time together rather than the other way around. But that’s not what Zach wants to hear. “I guess the guy would be very attentive. He’d probably seek out the woman’s opinion a lot—you know, as an excuse to spend time with her.”