Butterflies in Honey (Growing Pains #3)(51)

“You’re young, Sean,” Georgie said with a grin and a shake of his head. “You don’t act it in business, but now it’s sure showin’. Wrong way to go, man! Even I knew that, and according to my wife, I do everything wrong.” Georgie clapped Sean on the back. “They don’t think like us, man—no offense, Krista, but I think you’ll agree. Once you wrong a woman, beware. They’ll skin you alive. Might cry over your pain and nurse you back to health after, but they’ll take you to the cleaners as sure as I’m standing here. You should have begged for forgiveness for being born before you showed up unannounced.”

“Wise man, Georgie,” Krista said. “But beware yourself. I don’t like hearing my personal business on the lips of strangers.”

Georgie put up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m no dummy. I see the way the winds are blowing. You have high powered friends. I’m not crossing those lines.”

The ref led everyone through the lobby, past the banquet halls, and into a courtyard out the side of the hotel. It was still technically indoors since there was a glass ceiling and partially glassed walls—it looked like a large greenhouse—but the floor was cobblestone. It was probably a place that held weddings in the heat—it had both air conditioning and sun.

Along the wall shared with the hotel were a row of tanks with a target off to the side of each. They were dunk tanks.

Krista felt a tingle go up her back. She’d just proved she was the least helpful when it came to throwing balls…it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was supposed to go in the tank.

Her pink bra might make a showing after all. It was the worst news all day—which was actually okay. Georgie had come around. So had Donald. People could know that her bra was pink if it meant they would also end up knowing she was legitimate.

Still, it sucked.

“Okay,” Sean said, forming a circle with the region. “I’ll do the dunk tank. It’s a bad position to be in, so I’ll take that responsibility.”

“Except that we need the points and Krista won’t get us any,” Bob scowled as he looked at the tanks.

Sean’s eyes got hard. “Krista will try her best, which is what I expect of all of you. I will do the tank.”

“’Cause she’s a girl?” Dean asked quietly. He wouldn’t meet Sean’s eyes.

“No, it’s not…”

“Damn it!” Krista said testily, talking over Sean. “Fine, I’ll do the dunk. I can’t throw as well as any of you—we all know this. I’ll miss the target. So I might as well get dunked. Everyone wants to throw crap at me anyway.”

Everyone nodded before Sean said, “I’m the VP, Krista, I’ll do the dunk. That’s final.” Sean sounded hostile. All the other men looked down with varying stages of unhappiness.

“Don’t be a ninny, Sean,” Krista replied in a huff, starting toward the tank. “You and Georgie have the best arms. I have no arm. We have $500 riding on this, remember? At least my bra is new. You all owe me a new shirt, though.”

Sean grabbed Krista’s arm and whipped her back. His eyes were burning and he was livid. “Krista, no. Young, hot girl is not what we are going for with you. You are a viable member of this team. You don’t need to be on display.”

Behind Sean, the rest of L.A.’s managers looked up with wide eyes. Sean rarely lost his cool, and he very rarely raised his voice. This time he was doing both, not to mention physically handling a co-worker. It wasn’t smart for a million reasons, least of all that she could sue and biggest of all that she could get weighted down in the past and have an episode.

Thankfully, though, Krista was locked firmly in the present. And she was held there by anger.

“You are forgetting yourself, Sean McAdams.” Her voice was ice. It cut through his haze like a razor blade. “As a viable member of this team, I can see that the best strategy for our group as a whole would be to swallow my pride and sit in that dunk tank. The other members of your team have identified, and pointed out, that fact. As our leader, I would hope you would put aside your personal interference and recognize that. And please get your hand off of my arm.”

Sean didn’t move for a beat, his eyes boring into hers. Finally, his hand loosened and let go, but his eyes were on fire. Krista stared at him a moment longer, then turned and walked to the tank. Her back was loose and she was partially smiling. She didn’t want anyone to think she wasn’t okay with the decision. It would suck, but so be it.

A guy helped her in to the warm, humid tank. She sat on the hard plastic seat hanging over clear water. Down the line the other guys were also getting helped in, with some not fitting onto the seat all that well. It looked like all the VPs were taking the seats. All the VPs and the girl.

Sean stared at Krista for a moment longer. She took that moment to say, “If you guys miss one single shot, I will personally kill you!”

Georgie saluted with a smile and Donald’s eyebrows dipped in concentration as they all got in line behind the next tank over. Knowing Donald, he actually thought she was serious. The other two snickered at her—bastards.

The ref rang the bell, and the first shots were taken. In front of Krista was a guy in his late thirties with obviously died black hair. Krista figured that since she had to sit the tank, it was okay for her to start talking smack.