The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(13)

But Matteo has other plans and interrupts me again. “Hey, looks like the hydraulic lift on your chair is broken. Be careful. I’m guessing a free fall wouldn’t be a good thing in your profession.” He motions to the pens and paper scattered on the desk. Kyle is doing some final inking on a panel; I bet he’s all prepared for our smaller team meeting this week and our bigger presentation next week, rumpled Goody Two-shoes. He’s probably got three options, all fully fleshed and ready to go to the execs if Andy gives the go-ahead in our internal green light. It’s the reminder that I need to get this little visit over with and go back home to work on my own stuff.

“Yeah, I’ve already done that once this week! It was epic.” Kyle laughs and proudly points to an almost-finished panel ruined by a stray marker stroke across the entire page. Boys. Thankfully they stop short of chest-bumping.

I sigh, throwing my keys onto my desk to break up the man party and return the focus to why we’re here. My bad luck holds out, and they slide between Simon’s wall and mine. Just great. I bend to retrieve them, knocking the stack of papers on my desk onto the floor in the process. My research for the article on the thirtieth anniversary of The Hooded Falcon scatters like a game of 52-card pickup, further complicated by the pile of crap Simon has under his desk. I must have left the pages for the article on the edge of my desk without remembering, unless Simon has been snooping. He doesn’t seem the type, but I had let it slip that I had a major idea. Maybe he got curious.

I frown at the rope, black hoodies, and clutter piled on the floor. Simon and Kyle must have been up to some sort of nerd mountain climbing for Pokémon GO, because who keeps this stuff under their desk? I sort through a small stack of dented cardboard, several wrapping-paper tubes, and duct tape. Murderers. That’s who keeps duct tape and hoodies under their desk. Or nerdy ninjas who say they’re learning parkour but are into team Pokémon bondage. My discovery of a pack of Magic cards, along with a pattern for homemade chain mail underneath the sweatshirts, seals the deal for me. Ninja Nerd City. I emerge from under my desk with a further understanding of just how far down the nerdom path my coworkers are. I remind myself to tease them mercilessly on Monday.

“I could look at it for you, maybe fix it.” Matteo squats, peering at Kyle’s chair with what I assume is a fake aura of professional capability.

“Cool.” Kyle jumps off the chair, and they start all sorts of pointing and prodding. I do not have time for some pissing contest where they pretend to understand how a hydraulic whatever-it-is works. I am about to inform them of this when Kyle crows with satisfaction. There is no way Matteo actually fixed something that fast. Kyle’s been fiddling with that chair for the better part of two months.

“Right on! I didn’t think of rotating the supports that way! Thanks, man.” This time when Kyle is back on his feet and shakes Matteo’s hand, he’s euphoric.

“No problem,” Matteo says, pulling out an honest-to-God handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his fingers.

Kyle turns and gives me a grin and double thumbs-up. “Seems like a keeper, MG.”

Everything’s so effed up that I sputter something incomprehensible while Mr. Herbal Tea, Fix-It Man himself, walks back to my side and peers down at me with the most infuriatingly benign look on his face.

“Sorry about the delay. Didn’t you want to look at something in the library?” Matteo asks. And dammit if there isn’t a smile lurking in his eyes. This man is thoroughly enjoying watching me sputter. This man has my head spinning so fast, I’m losing track of what I’m reacting to. In fact, he’s steering me toward the back of the office before I even realize that Kyle thinks OHT is my special someone.

I turn to defend my reputation, but OHT slides his arm around my shoulder and leans his lips near my ear. This maneuver is far more effective in stilling my protest than I’d like. My mind drops Kyle like a hot potato, and OHT’s proximity takes precedence. I’m trying to remember just when it was someone had last caused goose bumps to rise on my neck in such speedy fashion.

“I don’t want your coworkers to know I’m a cop, remember?” Matteo says in my ear. From Kyle’s perspective, I’m sure it looks like sweet nothings.

I give him a look that clearly says, “No duh, I’m not a dunce.”

With an adoring smile, he opens the door to the back hallway, ushers me through, and drops his arm from around my shoulder. The charade is up, and he steps a normal distance away from me, though I’m still calculating how long it’s been since someone has whispered in my ear. Six months? A year? Probably since I dated Ryan’s gaming pal for three months, before realizing he’d been vlogging all his dates with a “real hot comic chick” and uploading them on YouTube to gain followers. Complete with analysis of my physique, which superheroine had a rack like mine, and comparison pictures. Needless to say, it didn’t work out.

I catch a glimpse of Kyle. He’s grinning at me through the window in the door. It’s going to take months of normalcy to regain my carefully cultivated resident-badass, no-personal-details-in-the-office, no-bullshit persona. I want to prove I’m ready for the promotion to art director. No one respects a boss who has office dalliances on a Saturday.

I welcome the space between Matteo and me. It allows me to regain my wits. “Let’s go, Detective. The library is right through here.”