The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(58)
Plus, there wasn’t much I could do. Starr Media paid on salary, so no matter how many hours I worked, it didn’t mean I earned more. Hopefully Brogan gave out Christmas bonuses because I sure needed a Scrooge McMoneybags right about now.
Chapter Twenty
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #92
Sometimes a fling is just a fling.
At a quarter till seven I shut down my computer and grabbed my coat off the rack. December had brought a wet, bitter cold that seeped into my bones, chilling me to the core. I tied the belt tighter on my trench and started my ten block trek to Brogan’s condo.
I hadn’t spoken to him the rest of the day after the less-than-amicable exchange in his office. This was the first time that he’d been upset at me, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I got to his place. Were we supposed to ignore that I screwed up? Would he continue to be pissed? He hadn’t sent an email or message telling me not to come over, so I took that as a good sign. Plus, I had to go over anyway to walk Bruce.
It was strange to think that I didn’t go straight home after work anymore. Not that I was in any hurry to get back to my place. After the fire, it probably reeked of burned plastic (thanks, Zoey). And my roommate had to work overtime on her new project, anyway, so the company for dinner was appreciated. Nothing was sadder than eating ramen in an empty living room watching reruns of The Bachelor.
Luckily, tonight I didn’t have to. Anything Brogan cooked was bound to be eons better than whatever I could conjure up in my currently non-existent kitchen.
Plus, after twelve hours of nothing but conversations involving tweets, Cloud pictures, and the number of someone’s followers, I was ready for a much-needed reprieve.
On the surface, everything between us had been going great up until this morning. Getting to know him on a deeper level than joking about movies and funny requests from clients had proved more difficult. Any time I even hinted at asking more about his personal life and past, he’d shut down and mumble an I don’t know. I knew from the beginning Brogan was a private person, but I figured he’d open up with time…I hoped. It would be nice to know more than that his grandmother was Italian and liked to cook. In fact, that was pretty much all I knew. Which, after a few weeks of our relationship, didn’t bode well.
Bruce sat in the entryway wagging his tail when I walked through the door. Instead of jumping, he was now down to a scramble of paws that was a mix between tap and river dancing. I bent down and let him give me a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you too, boy. Jitters is going to be very jealous.”
“Hey there.” Brogan stood in the doorway to the living room, and my heart leaped into my throat as his gaze lazily traced over me. “That skirt has been driving me insane all day.” He strode over and skimmed his fingers along the curve of my hip.
Wait, wasn’t he super pissed at me this morning? Okay, so I guessed he was done being mad at me. Interesting how he could flip it like a switch. Was that what I was supposed to do, too?
“I’m surprised you noticed, after what happened earlier,” I said cautiously. How could he be so nonchalant after threatening my job if I screwed up again?
His lips pressed soft kisses along my neck. “Office stays at the office.”
“Ah.” That made sense, I guess. And yet, totally ignoring what happened this morning was impossible. “Right.”
My misgivings must have been etched on my face because his eyes searched mine and his hands cupped my cheeks. “Are you okay with this? At work I run everything by my specifications. Nothing is personal. I have to treat you like I’d treat every other employee. We both agreed.”
Now I just felt stupid. Of course he had to do that. I didn’t expect preferential treatment, but I didn’t know how to act outside the office after being chewed out. Guess it was something I just needed to get used to.
Because, even if it was in a limited capacity, Brogan was mine. His condo had turned into a safety net, a bright spot in long, strenuous days and worry-filled nights. A few hours with him was enough to recalibrate my system. “You’re right. Everything’s cool.”
His lips pulled into a smile. “Good, because dinner’s ready.”
I dropped my bag on the counter, and he swept me into a hug. His lips found mine, and my body melted into his. A deep heaviness settled into my muscles as every part of me ached to connect with him. When his tongue swept past my lips, blissful numbness overtook me. Okay, yes, I could definitely let this morning go. “Good, because I’m starving. I’m going to be kitchenless for a couple weeks, so might as well pack it in now.”
A crease formed between his brows. “What? Why?”
“My roommate caused a kitchen fire.” I waved my hand dismissively, like this was a common hiccup when living with roommates—which I guess it was when living with Zoey.
His hands cupped my shoulders and concern washed over his features. “Are you okay? Is it livable?”
“Yes, just a little…pungent. Really, it’s nothing out of the norm. Zoey catches fire to anything she tries to cook.”
“So you live with an arsonist?”
“She’s harmless unless given a pot or pan. Then all bets are off.”
“Remind me never to let her in my house.” He mashed his lips together and cleared his throat. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and he shuffled nervously from foot to foot. “If you ever need a place to stay, there’s always room here for you.”