Butterflies in Honey (Growing Pains #3)(77)

Bob’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes got bigger than the world. Krista stared him down for a second, daring him to say something, then turned on her heel and walked away.

She’d made it about three strides when Sean said, “Krista, a word, please.”

The way he said it brooked no argument. Sean rarely exerted his full weight as a boss. Usually he would learn his employee’s style and talk to them in a way they could best understand. People thought he was a softy because of that reason. And he was, for the most part. Until someone crossed the line. Then his bending willow routine turned into a willow belt sculpted in steel. Krista thought of him like a rich man’s sword. Pretty, artfully done, intricate precision and detail, but if it needed to, it’d cut you in half.

He was the sword. Krista was the steel mace. At least today she was. Blunt and traumatizing was the way to get Bob out. She’d just done what was necessary.

Still, Sean was the boss. It had been the wrong day for a stress pressurized hangover.

She followed him with a grimace on her face. She was in trouble. She’d crossed the line. She’d yelled at the boss and a co-worker in the space of ten minutes. Sean didn’t take that kind of thing lightly.

It was definitely time for Krista to seriously entertain Dorito’s. More money and less Bob sounded good to her.

When they were about ten feet away from the others, but still in hearing range, Sean stopped and turned to her. He wanted her chastisement to be public. That was her punishment. Much worse than quiet research. She hated being disciplined in front of people, and he knew it. He was planning on using it, because it had to be done. The way she acted had to be called down.

She hated that she knew all this. Sometimes it was better to sulk into the face of misunderstanding.

Sean started the chastisement in a firm, low tone. “I give you a lot of freedom. I let you have the run of it most times. This weekend I have bent over backward to try and help you acclimate—“

Krista opened her mouth to argue but Sean held up one finger and said, “Don’t.”

There was such dominating force in his eyes and power in his body, Krista immediately froze. He was six feet of cold, hard muscle. He looked perilous, and despite herself, butterflies filled her stomach and her legs got tingly.

But she wasn’t scared for once. His dominating treatment wasn’t bringing dark memories to the surface. The realization of that astonished her. Because he was faster. She could run longer, but he was a faster sprinter. Unlike Jim, who only had a few quick steps, Krista would have to be well in front of Sean—well in front of him—to get away. Her usual fear didn’t surface, though. And it was because she knew Sean wouldn’t chase her. If she got scared because he got animated, he would let her run, then wait for her to return. He would stay right where he was, for hours if necessary, on a cold path in the park, because he trusted she would come back. When the fear rubbed off, and she found herself again, she would return. And ask to be held.

She knew that, because it had happened before. They’d gotten in a stupid argument, he’d moved his arm up to run his fingers through his hair in frustration, and she took that movement as the beginning of a strike, of a punch to her face. A vivid reminder of Jim’s mistreatment. Of being knocked out. Of not seeing through her left eye for a week.

She’d taken off running like a bird in flight.

Sean had watched her go, surprised and confused at first, and then deteriorating as he realized what was happening. Of why she was so adamant about pushing herself when running. Of why she never slacked off on the physical stuff. It was the first time he’d realized it, and it killed him. It rubbed at his soul. So he sat down where he stood and waited for her. He stayed there for three hours. She watched him from the trees for two before approaching him and falling into his lap in tears. She was sorry. So was he.

And now she knew he wouldn’t raise a hand to her, even in the worst of moods, which let her keep her anger at this miserable job and the dumb employees that plagued her life. It wasn’t all that nice of a settlement for being trustworthy, but she was human. What could she say?

“I realize our team isn’t melding all that well,” he went on, his eyes pinning her with controlled green fury. “I also realize I expect a lot from you. I know your limits and I know how to push you to get the best results. But I am still figuring out how to work with everyone else.”

Sean stopped and looked at her, letting the silence lengthen. Letting what he said sink in. Also proving he had control of the conversation, and making sure she knew it.

“Despite how it looks right now,” Sean went on, ignoring the heat in her eyes, “This is my team, and I have a good handle on it. I realize there is a lot of dissention, and most of it is aimed at you. I haven’t babied you or given you any extra credit for that because I didn’t think you would’ve appreciated it, but maybe I should have. Regardless, that is your problem with me. I don’t care how well we work together, or how long we’ve known each other, I will not tolerate you creating dissent on this team. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Sean’s eyes burned into her.

She thought: Meh. She said, “Crystal, sir.”

He looked at her a second longer to make sure she wasn’t going to start arguing again, and then turned away.

“Okay everyone, let’s get back to it,” he said, pushing his way to the ref.